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Chapter 705:

“This is for the investigation,” she said. “The legal work. The—” she stopped, held it out, “—the protection. Professional fees. Retainer for ongoing services p>

Easton didn’t move. Didn’t reach for the check.

“Look at me,” he said.

She did. And saw something that made her stomach tighten—coldness where there had been warmth. Distance where there had been intimacy.

“You think this is what I want?” His voice was soft. Dangerous. “You think—” he laughed, and it was terrible, broken, “—you think you can buy me? Buy what I feel? What I p>

“It’s not about buying.” June stepped back, putting space between them, needing the distance to maintain her composure. “It’s about boundaries. About—” she searched for words, found the ones she had prepared, “—about not owing. Not being owed. I won’t be a burden, Easton. I won’t let you risk yourself, your career, your p>

“Let me p>

The words cracked like a whip.

Easton moved. Three strides, and he was in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the anger he was barely controlling.

𝘔о𝗿е n𝗼𝘷е𝘭ѕ 𝗈𝗻

“You think you get to decide what I risk? What I give?” His hands found the counter behind her, caging her without touching, his body a wall she couldn’t escape. “You think—” his voice dropped, became something raw, something desperate, “—you think a check can make this professional? Can make me your lawyer instead of your p>

“Don’t.” June’s own voice was rising, panic breaking through her control. “Don’t say it. Don’t make this p>

“What? Real?” Easton leaned closer, close enough that his breath warmed her cheek, close enough that she could see the flecks of darker gray in his eyes, the particular intensity of a man who had finally reached his limit. “It’s already real, June. It was real the first time I saw you. Real when I held you in the hospital. Real when I—” he stopped, swallowed, “—when I watched you sleep, knowing I would do anything, anything, to keep you safe p>

The check was still in her hand. Crumpled now, her grip too tight, the paper warping between her fingers.

“That’s not—” she started.

“Love?” The word was bitter. “Devotion? The thing you’re so terrified of that you’d rather pay me than accept it p>

“I’m trying to protect you p>

“From what?” Easton’s hands left the counter. Found her face—gentle despite his fury, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones with a tenderness that broke something in her chest. “From caring? From choosing? From—” he stopped, let the silence stretch, let her see the pain she was causing, “—from being yours p>

June’s breath caught. Her heart hammered against her ribs, too fast, too loud, the particular panic of being seen too clearly, known too completely.

“I can’t—” she whispered. “I can’t be what you want. I can’t p>