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Chapter 710:
June’s heart slammed against her ribs. Her hand flew to her phone, thumb hovering over the emergency contact—Easton, already programmed, already waiting.
“Don’t p>
The voice came from the figure, low, familiar, absolutely out of place.
“Easton p>
He turned. The neon from the billboard across the river caught his face, carving his cheekbones in blue and red, his eyes in shadow. He still wore his suit—charcoal and immaculate—but his tie was gone, the collar open, the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
“How did you—” June stopped. Her pulse was still racing, adrenaline making her fingertips cold, her breath shallow. “The security system p>
“The emergency code,” he said, his voice calm, cutting through her panic. “The one you gave me when you moved in.” He set the glass down on the marble coffee table, the amber liquid catching the light. “You said for emergencies only. After what I saw at the club tonight, I considered this an emergency p>
“That doesn’t give you the right to p>
“No.” He moved toward her—not fast, not threatening, but with the absolute certainty of a man who had already calculated every variable. “It doesn’t. But I needed to talk to you. And after tonight—” he stopped, three feet away, close enough that she could smell him, bourbon and something sharper, metallic, “—after what happened at the club, I didn’t trust the phone p>
𝗥eа𝘥 𝗐i𝘁ho𝘂𝗍 𝘪𝗇𝗍еrr𝘂𝘱𝘁𝘪оոѕ o𝘯
June’s jaw tightened. “Crawford p>
“He was there p>
“Of course he was.” She walked past him, toward the kitchen island, needing the distance, needing the barrier of marble between them. She reached for a glass, filled it with water from the tap, and drank without tasting it. “He’s always there. Always watching. Always p>
“June p>
She set the glass down. Harder than she intended. The sound cracked through the apartment.
Easton hadn’t moved. He stood where she had left him, his hands in his pockets, his posture deceptively relaxed. But she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his weight balanced on the balls of his feet—ready to move, ready to—
“I tore up your check,” he said.
“I know p>
“Not because I don’t need the money.” His voice was softer now, almost gentle. “Not because I’m offended by the gesture. But because—” he pulled his right hand from his pocket, and she saw it: a black USB drive, matte finish, no markings, “—because this isn’t about transaction. This never was p>
He crossed to the island. Set the drive on the marble between them. The metal made a small, precise sound against the stone.
“What’s on it p>
“The only way you’re going to get Apex Bio back p>
June’s hand froze halfway to the drive. She looked up at him—really looked—and saw the exhaustion he was hiding, the shadows under his eyes, the particular intensity of a man who had been working while she was drinking martinis with Vera.
“SEC scrutiny,” Easton said. “Richard’s people have filed three separate complaints. Any direct acquisition triggers automatic antitrust review. Six months minimum. Probably longer. By then, Richard will have liquidated the assets, buried the patents in shell companies, made the whole thing worthless p>