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Chapter 828:
Easton opened the umbrella and tilted most of it over her, his own right shoulder quickly growing damp with snow. They walked side by side along the snow-covered pavement, the crunch of their boots the only sound between them. To keep her from slipping, Easton placed a hand on her arm — a steadying, warm presence through the wool of her coat.
“So,” he said, breaking the silence, his voice clear in the snowy night. “You really signed p>
June knew he meant the divorce papers. “Yes,” she answered softly. “This afternoon p>
Easton stopped and turned to face her. The streetlight moved in his eyes. “With no conditions p>
“I left with nothing,” June confirmed. “Not a dollar, not a share. Just my freedom p>
Something shifted in his expression — a brief, intensely focused gleam — before his voice returned to its usual gentleness. “You deserve better, June. You deserve everything p>
The wind gusted. June shivered and instinctively pressed closer to his side. Easton drew her in, shielding her from the wind with his body until they stood almost flush against each other.
“Your building,” he murmured against her hair.
June looked up. The doorman was visible through the glass doors. She knew she should step back.
She didn’t.
The revolving door deposited them in the marble lobby. Easton lowered the umbrella, his shoulder dusted with a thin layer of snow. He brushed the flakes from her coat with natural, unhurried ease.
𝖱e𝖺𝗱 o𝘯 а𝘯𝘺 𝗱e𝘷iс𝖾 o𝗇 ѕ.с𝘰𝗺
“Thank you for walking me back, Easton,” June said, her gaze settling on his reddened nose and damp shoulder. A small pang of guilt moved through her. “Your coat is soaked p>
Easton smiled. “It was my honor to walk with you in the snow. A little weather is nothing.” The words bordered on flirtatious, but his expression was so sincere that June found she couldn’t take offense.
She hesitated, then, out of politeness and a touch of genuine gratitude, offered, “There’s a coffee bar in the lounge. Would you like something hot while you wait for your driver p>
A flicker of triumph crossed Easton’s eyes before he masked it. “Would that be too much of an imposition?” he asked, with practiced reluctance.
“No, not at all,” June said. “Just coffee p>
The entire exchange — from the invitation to the acceptance — was watched without blinking by a man seated in the back of a black Rolls-Royce Phantom parked across the street.
Crawford Love had just ended a trans-oceanic video conference on a multi-hundred-million-dollar media acquisition. He had planned to call June afterward, to congratulate her on her freedom, and had even entertained the idea of engineering a chance encounter outside her building.
He hadn’t expected to arrive and find this.
June and Easton standing together in the falling snow, their posture as easy and intimate as old lovers. Crawford’s pupils contracted. He watched Easton wrap the scarf around her, watched their bodies press close, and felt jealousy coil through him like something venomous.
When June invited Easton through the door, the hand holding his phone tightened, his knuckles going white. Her contact information still glowed on the screen. He felt he was moments from crushing the device.