LOGINCarmenta Bloom’s life is the epitome of gilded misery, and she is no stranger to controversy. With wealth and glory as her inheritance, she has everything but the freedom to live on her own terms. When a scandal threatens her family’s ironclad reputation, Carmenta is cast into a prison of her own making under the watchful eye of her bodyguard, Perion. Perion is her captor in every sense. He moves mountains and pounds them to ground again. He controls her, isolates her, and refuses to allow any escape—except one she never anticipated: his presence begins to consume her. Perion isn’t who he claims to be. He isn’t just a hired hand—he’s tied to a powerful mafia syndicate, his motives shrouded in secrecy. To him, Carmenta is a key piece in a high-stakes war his syndicate is waging. As Carmenta’s fiery spirit challenges Perion’s icy resolve, the line between duty and love begins to blur. Perion starts to see the woman behind the façade, and Carmenta, despite her mistrust, feels drawn to the man she thinks is her protector. He begins to question everything—his loyalty and the woman who has somehow gotten under his skin. Torn between duty and desire, Perion must face the consequences of his lies, while Carmenta must decide if she’s willing to risk everything—her heart, her life, and her very soul—for the man who was never meant to protect her. As war closes in and trust crumbles, they must confront what they’ve both been running from or be destroyed by it.
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"Kamu sudah gosok gigi?"Aku terkejut mendengar pertanyaan Mas Haris, lelaki yang baru dua belas jam lalu menjadi suamiku. Resepsi baru saja selesai dan kini kami berdua tengah berada di kamar pengantin. Rasa deg deg an dan jantungku yang berdebar kencang seketika buyar mendengar pertanyaannya."Sudah Mas. Tadi setelah makan malam.""Hemm, gosok gigi lagi sana."Aku tertegun. Mas Haris memalingkan wajahnya yang tampan dari wajahku. Padahal kami tadi hampir saja…"Ayo cepat gosok gigi."Aku mengalah, turun dari kasur dan masuk ke kamar mandi. Di depan cermin wastafel, kutatap pantulan diriku, yang masih tampak cantik sisa sisa riasan pengantin. Kuraih sikat gigi dan mulai mengisinya dengan odol. Tak mau membuat Mas Haris menunggu lama, aku segera gosok gigi, memakai obat kumur dan memastikan aroma dari mulutmu wangi. Meski perasaan tak enak mulai menelusup mendapati perintahnya tadi.Keluar dari kamar mandi, aku tertegun mendapati lelaki yang baru saja sah menjadi suamiku ini sudah tertidur lelap. Dia berbaring miring menghadap ke pinggir, sehingga jika aku ikut berbaring di sebelahnya, maka dia akan memunggungiku. Aku menghela nafas, mengikat kembali kimono tidur dan mulai merebahkan diri.Haris Pradana, seorang dosen bergelar doktor di Universitas ternama di kotaku. Aku mengenalnya dari Mama, yang mulai khawatir melihat aku tak juga punya gandengan hingga berusia dua puluh enam tahun. Aku akhirnya pasrah dengan perjodohan ini ketika melihat latar belakang keluarganya yang tanpa cela. Berharap cinta akan tumbuh seiring pernikahan. Perbedaan usia yang cukup jauh, dua belas tahun, kuharap juga mampu membuat kami saling mengisi. Setelah tiga bulan menjajaki, akhirnya kami resmi menjadi suami istri hari ini.Dan kini, malam pertama yang kuharap tak terlupakan, nyatanya terlewat begitu saja. Tak ada ucapan romantis, atau pelukan mesra. Jangan lagi berharap kami melakukannya seperti kebanyakan pengantin baru lainnya. Dia kini tertidur sambil memunggungiku. Dengkur halus yang terdengar dari bibirnya, menjadi irama musik pengantar tidur untukku.***"Nadya, kamu bikinin aku kopi? Ini tadi gelasnya sudah disterilin dulu belum?"Sapaan pagiku langsung berupa kalimat panjang. Mas Haris baru saja keluar kamar, dengan pakaian rapi, berkemeja biru muda dan celana panjang hitam."Itu gelasnya bersih Mas. Aku ambil dari rak piring."Mas Haris urung duduk di meja makan. Dia mengambil gelas kopinya dan tanpa kuduga, membuang isinya ke tempat cuci piring. Setelah membuang isinya, dia meletakkan gelas itu, dan mengambil gelas yang baru dari dalam rak piring. Dituangkan nya air panas dari termos ke dalam gelas, lalu di goncang goncang hingga merata. Setelah itu, Mas Haris membuang air dalam gelas dan memberikan gelas kosong itu padaku."Bikin lagi. Lain kali, semua perabotan makan untukku harus kamu steril lebih dulu. Kau mengerti?"Aku menelan ludah. Bukannya meminta maaf karena telah meninggalkanku tidur di malam pertama kami, aku justru mendapat tutorial mensteril alat makan.Tak mau membantah, aku melakukan apa yang dia perintahkan. Setelah meletakkan gelas kopi yang baru di atas meja, aku duduk di sebelahnya. Namun tiba-tiba, Mas Haris menggeser kursinya menjauh."Sebaiknya kau duduk agak jauh Nad. Emm, aku tak suka duduk terlalu dekat dengan orang yang baru ku kenal."Deg. Jantungku seakan berhenti berdetak. Kami memang belum lama mengenal, tapi kan, aku istrinya. Sebenarnya, siapa suamiku ini sesungguhnya? Seorang clean freak?Kulihat kini Mas Haris memandangi hidangan sarapan di atas meja. Kami memang langsung pindah ke rumah sendiri usai resepsi di gedung dan sedikit ramah tamah di rumah Mamaku semalam. Alasannya, Mas Haris tak punya banyak waktu libur. Pekerjaan telah menunggu. Aku harus rela mengubur anganku tentang bulan madu di tempat impian. Kupikir inilah resikonya menikah dengan lelaki Workaholic.Tiba-tiba kulihat Mas Haris mendorong piringnya yang bahkan sama sekali belum tersentuh isinya itu. Dia lalu menarik tempat roti dan mengambil selembar roti tawar, mengisinya dengan selai nanas dan memakannya tanpa bicara. Aku menatapnya dengan hati tak enak. Dia menolak makan pagi yang telah kubuat dengan susah payah sejak setelah subuh tadi."Lain kali tanya dulu aku mau makan apa. Jangan asal masak." Ujarnya sambil mendorong kursi ke belakang dan pergi begitu saja.Seperti inikah rasanya pengantin baru? Kemana rasa semanis madu yang harusnya kukecap hari ini?Selagi aku melamun sambil memandangi meja makan yang tak dia sentuh isinya, suara mobilnya pergi meninggalkan rumah terdengar. Aku menekan dada yang tiba-tiba terasa sesak. Ternyata, aku telah menikah dengan seorang asing, yang sama sekali tak kukenal.***Malam sudah merangkak naik ketika deru mobil Mas Haris memasuki halaman terdengar. Aku bergegas menuju pintu dan membukanya. Aku mendekat hendak meraih dan mencium tangannya, tapi Mas Haris justru mundur, dan menyembunyikan tangannya dibalik badan."Kamu udah cuci tangan belum? Habis pegang apa tadi?"Aku tertegun, menatap lelaki itu tak mengerti. Tanpa merasa bersalah, Mas Haris langsung masuk ke dalam kamar. Kecewa dan tersinggung berat akibat perlakuannya sejak kemarin malam hingga malam ini, aku mengejarnya ke dalam kamar."Mas! Kamu itu kenapa sih? Aku salah apa?" Ujarku sambil memegang tangannya.Diluar dugaanku, Mas Haris menyentak tangannya yang kupegang hingga aku terhuyung huyung. Kami bertatapan dan seketika aku bergidik melihat bara api di matanya.Aku, semakin merasa tak mengenalnya."Nadya, berani sekali kau menyentuhku! Sekarang kemasi barang-barangmu dan pulang ke rumah orang tuamu!"***Before everything. Before her touch ever claimed me. Before her name ever burned its mark into my ribs.It started with a glance. That’s all it ever takes, isn’t it? I first saw her behind her father’s shoulder. She dressed like she was born to be stared at. All gold and silk and danger, surrounded by men with last names older than the buildings they owned. It was a winter benefit—one of those grand, exhausting things where men in velvet coats paraded their wealth and whispered politics over aged scotch. I was standing beside my father, doing what I always did in those kinds of rooms: watching, calculating, remembering names I’d be expected to know by next week.She didn’t see me. Not that night. Not really. I was another Hidalgo in a black suit, carrying the weight of a name too heavy for most men’s shoulders.But I saw her.Carmenta Paradis. The girl the whispers warned you about. The one they said would devour you whole if you let her. I wasn’t afraid, though. I was fascinated. Not
I woke to silence.Not the kind that greets you at dawn, gentle and full of promise, but the kind that stings your eardrums. The kind that presses down on your chest like a stone you can’t lift. I didn’t know where I was at first. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar—stained white plaster, a flickering light bulb dangling like a ghost.There was a soft beeping. Machines. Somewhere, a nurse murmured to someone outside the door. I realized slowly: I was in the clinic.Then I remembered everything.And I wished I hadn’t woken up.I turned my head. My body ached as though I’d been beaten. My throat was raw, my eyes swollen. It felt like a hundred years had passed since I last breathed without pain.The door creaked open, and Signora stepped in, her shoulders hunched. She looked older than she had a day ago. In her hands was a bundle—Romero’s clothes, folded neatly, as if that would make them lighter to carry.“I didn’t want them to just throw these out,” she whispered, placing them on the
The sea did not give him back. By morning, I was still sitting by the shore, lips chapped from the wind, eyes raw from staring into the distance, searching for a boat that never returned. The sun had already risen twice since he left, and with it, my hope had slowly, cruelly bled into the tide.Romero was gone.No letters. No note tucked into the corner of our bed. No warning. Only that last look he gave me, that flicker of defiance mixed with sorrow, and then the sound of the engine drifting further and further into the dark.When the fishing boats began returning empty, I knew. I knew before they said anything. Before Eljo came again, soaking wet and stammering, "Carmen, we looked—God, we looked everywhere—but there's no sign of him or the boat." I was already shaking by then, teeth clenched to keep the scream from tearing out of my throat.I told myself he had docked somewhere else. That maybe he made it to another cove. That he had caught something so big he stayed longer to pull
I woke to the sound of a motor sputtering to life.The sheets beside me were cold. The sun hadn't fully risen, just a pale wash of light creeping through the cracks in our bamboo windows. I sat up, heart already kicking in my chest.No.I threw on my shawl, shoved my feet into slippers, and ran barefoot down the path toward the shore. My throat stung from the cold air, my arms prickled. When I reached the clearing, the worst fear curled into reality—Romero was on the boat.He stood barefoot on the hull, steadying the outriggers like it was a normal day. Like the sea didn’t kill men. Like he wasn’t a man with lungs that sometimes trembled and a heart that gave strange rhythms on cold nights.“Romero!” I shouted.He didn’t even flinch. Just cast a rope loose, calm as ever.“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”He looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes catching the morning light. “Fishing,” he said plainly, like he was saying the word breathing.I stormed into the shallows, skirt
Mornings came quietly now.The skies of the coastal province were often veiled in a pale blush of sun, soft like a promise never spoken aloud. The house I lived in—simple, square, and set beneath a canopy of trees—smelled of salt and ripe guava. I had started to find silence comforting again.But e
The cold stung my wrists, the metal biting into my skin as I blinked awake. I’d lost track of time in the dark—seconds, minutes, hours, they all blurred together here. The space around us smelled of rust and damp concrete, the kind of place that had never seen daylight.Across from me, Perion sat,
Monaco was drenched in luxury and light. But I didn’t notice any of it. The private wing of the airport was quiet, marble floors gleaming under the overhead lights, attendants whispering in polished French. It should have felt like safety—like a sanctuary carved out by wealth and distance. But I mo
Three days later, they brought my father into court in shackles.It wasn’t necessary. He wasn’t violent. But it made for better headlines.The marble halls of the courthouse were flooded with press, armed with their lenses and long-range microphones. Protesters screamed outside the gates while medi
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