Masuk“Afraid now, hmmm?” he asked with a lifted eyebrow. There was a mockery on his, oh so manly and deliciously curved red lips. “No, don't touch me! Remove your filthy hands from me or I will sue you!” she said frantically but all she received as a reply was his laughter. “What kind of crime am I committing now, my pretty soon-to-be stepmom? Tell me.” His voice was as sexy as hell and his lips were just an inch away from her lips. “Err, harassment,” she almost choke with her own saliva as she said so. Her mind was starting to deprive her of good reasons. “Harassment? Haha. No, my dear. There is no harassment for two consenting adults enjoying each other's arms and…” he did not finish his statement as his lips already claimed her lips which were open at the moment, in an attempt to retort to him. Dianthe was shocked to feel his lips graze hers and his tongue inside her mouth exploring therein taking all her sweetness. Just like before, her heart tumbled and her knees weakened, and automatically her arms encircled his neck as support. When his kiss deepened and became more aggressive, Dianthe could not deny anymore that his charm once more captured her innocent heart and her body could not deny the same.
Lihat lebih banyakJanu berjalan gontai menuju ruang kerjanya. Hari ini pun terasa berat. Sebagai guru muda di Sekolah Menengah Atas, tiap hari adalah tantangan baru baginya. Menghadapi tingkah pola murid-muridnya dan juga menyiapkan materi pelajaran setiap hari bukanlah persoalan gampang. Khususnya menjelang akhir semester genap seperti sekarang, ada banyak raport yang harus dia kerjakan.
Pria berkacamata itu duduk di kursinya dengan lesuh. Meja kerja yang berisi komputer dan alat-alat tulis tampak berantakan, semuanya diletakkan secara sembarangan. Sesaat pandangannya terlempar keluar jendela ruang kerja yang penuh buku itu, terutama buku pelajaran kimia. Lalu matanya terarah kepada tumpukan formulir di atas sudut kanan meja, formulir pendaftaran masuk universitas milik kelas 12 IPA 3 yang sudah setahun dia bina.
Ini adalah tahun pertama dia mendapat kesempatan menjadi wali kelas sejak resmi menjadi guru lima tahun yang lalu. Jari-jarinya yang lentik bergerak membuka satu per satu lembar formulir itu. Keningnya berkerut lantaran ada formulir yang kurang. Sekali lagi Janu memeriksa lembar demi lembar, tak kunjung dia temukan nama yang dia cari. "Mana Mika?" gumamnya bingung.
Seolah tak mau cepat menyerah, Janu memeriksa lembaran itu sekali lagi. Masih nihil. Hatinya mulai cemas. Kemungkinan yang terburuk mulai muncul di kepalanya.
Tiga bulan terakhir memang sikap Mika mendadak berubah. Padahal sejak kelas sepuluh, dia adalah salah satu siswa andalan yang cukup berprestasi. Selain dia jadi lebih murung, prestasinya juga turun cukup signifikan. Dia kerap absen, bahkan tak ikut kegiatan klub apapun. Beberapa kali Janu melihat Mika hanya duduk diam di pojokan, tak bicara, tak merespons.
Tepat pada saat itu, salah seorang murid kelas 12 yang dia kenal melintas di depan pintu ruang kerjanya. Murid perempuan itu berpakaian kasual, tampaknya sedang datang untuk mengembalikan buku-buku yang dia pinjam dari perpustakaan sebab di pelukannya dia membawa beberapa buku. Janu segera berlari keluar menghampiri.
"Bapak mau tanya, apa kamu pernah ngeliat Mika sejak kelulusan?" tanya Janu.
Murid perempuan itu berpikir sejenak. "Mika ..., Mika di kelas kita kan, Pak?"
"Iya. Mika yang mana lagi. Dia nggak ikut kumpulin formulir pendaftaran buat kuliah. Apa kamu tau kabar dia? Kayaknya dia sejak kelulusan belum pernah datang ke sekolah lagi."
"Wah saya kurang tau soal itu, Pak. Tapi ... setau saya Mika emang nggak mau lanjut kuliah, kami pernah ngomong soal ini di kelas. Dia bilang dia emang nggak niat buat lanjut kuliah."
"Hah? Yang benar?" Janu terlihat lumayan terkejut.
"Iya, Pak. Sayang juga sih, dia kan pintar. Tapi ..., saya juga nggak bisa berbuat apa-apa. Hehe, maaf ya, Pak."
Wajah Janu berubah murung. Matanya sesaat menerawang. "Makasih kalau gitu, Bapak akan coba cari tau apa rencana dia untuk ke depan."
Janu kembali ke dalam ruang kerjanya. Pria bertubuh tinggi tegap itu menghela napas. Dia tak bisa abai begitu saja dengan murid didikannya. Terlebih murid potensial seperti Mika. Walau dia pendiam dan cenderung sulit berbaur, Mika bukan siswa nakal pembuat onar, dia selalu serius mengerjakan tugas. Akan sangat disayangkan kalau dia tak melanjutkan pendidikan.
Janu mengeluarkan ponsel pintar lalu mencari berkas berisi alamat dan nomor orang tua Mika. Panggilannya tak direspons. Sekali lagi Janu mengembuskan napas panjang. Sepertinya dia harus datang sendiri ke rumah Mika.
Mendadak hatinya menjadi gelisah dan gugup. Bagaimana cara dia bicara dengan Mika dan orang tuanya? Dia belum berpengalaman perihal situasi seperti ini. Dan lagi, Mika bukan gadis yang ceria, sulit untuk mengajaknya bicara terbuka.
Namun tak ada pilihan, mungkin satu keputusannya hari ini bisa mengubah masa depan Mika. Itulah yang membulatkan niatnya.
***
Mata elang Janu menyisir kawasan rumah Mika. Dia tak yakin benar apakah rumah yang dia datangi sungguh rumah Mika. Rumah sederhana itu berada di kawasan kumuh, terletak di salah satu barisan bedeng.
Beberapa bocah ingusan tengah bermain sepak bola di jalan yang sempit. "Ini betul rumah Mika?" Janu memberanikan diri bertanya kepada mereka.
"Iya! Panggil aja, Om! Mika! Mika!"
"Mika! Mika ada tamu!"
Bocah-bocah itu bersahut-sahutan memanggil Mika. Janu lumayan canggung dibuat mereka sebab mata para tetangga jadi tepat mengawasi dirinya.
"Ya ...?"
Pintu rumah petak kecil itu terbuka, Mika keluar dengan mengenakan baju tidur lusuh. Rambutnya agak berantakan, wajahnya kusut. Janu menatapnya kikuk, ini pertama kali dia melihat Mika dalam tampilan seperti ini.
Sekejap dia lupa Mika adalah muridnya atau bisa dikatakan mantan murid, dia tampak dewasa dan alami. "Pak Janu?!" Mata Mika membulat. "Ngapain di sini?!"
The silver key sat in the palm of Dianthe’s hand, cold and deceptively heavy. It didn't look like a standard house key; it was a bit bigger than ordinary keys. Just as her fingers brushed the folder underneath, she heard the floorboards in the hallway groan.She acted on instinct, sliding the key into the deep pocket of her robe and stepping away from the desk just as Garette appeared in the doorway.He wasn't wearing his usual armor of a three-piece suit. He was simply wearing his boxer shorts and white cotton shirt, his hair sleep-mussed, his eyes blinking against the study’s light. He looked human—vulnerable, even."Dianthe?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. "It’s three in the morning. What are you doing in here?""I... I couldn't sleep," she said, her heart hammering against her ribs. She prayed he couldn't see the outline of the key through the silk of her robe. "The wind was rattling the shutters. I came down for some water and saw the light on."Garette walked toward her,
After doing the necessary actions related to the Sandra Belosh case, Garette and Dianthe were on the O’ Le Briene’s private jet, before the sun rise the next morning, going back to Texas.The private jet touched down on the ranch’s landing strip just as the Texas sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in aggressive shades of violet and gold. The transition from the foggy, ancient streets of Cambridge and the luxury of London to the raw, dusty air of the ranch felt like waking up from a dream.The ride from the hangar to the main house was silent. Garette sat in the back of the SUV, his eyes fixed on the flickering shadows of the fence lines. He was no longer just the "Lawyer Shark" or the "Husband." He was a man sitting on a secret that could dismantle the very empire they were driving toward.When the car pulled up to the grand entrance, the staff were lined up as usual, but the atmosphere was different. The news of the Cambridge "garden battle" had traveled fast; the
The drive from the hotel’s restaurant to Garette’s sub-firm office in London was a blur of rain-slicked motorways and heavy, thoughtful silence. Garette sat in the back of the sleek black town car, his laptop open on his knees, but his eyes were fixed on Dianthe. She was staring out the window, her hand—the one wearing the big wedding sized diamond—resting on the leather seat between them.She had been a lioness in that garden party of Elena Vance and while in the restaurant rebutting at Sandra Belosh but now she looked like she was mourning something."You're remarkably quiet for a woman who just decimated a supermodel in front of the international press, and a tiger heiress," Garette said softly, reaching out to lace his fingers with hers."I didn't do it for the press or anyone else, Garette," she replied without turning her head. "I did it because they both tried to make me feel small. And I’m tired of people in your world thinking I don’t have a right to the air I breathe."Garet
The ambiance of the five-star restaurant at the Savoy was designed for discretion—dim lighting, thick velvet booths, and the soft clinking of silver against bone china. But despite the luxury, the air at the table was sharp enough to draw blood.Atty. Garette sat with his back to the wall, the quintessential executive in a charcoal-grey suit that screamed power and precision. Beside him, Dianthe felt the weight of the room’s gaze. She was no longer just the woman from the garden party; she was the wife of the most formidable legal mind in the country. However, the woman sitting across from them didn’t seem to care about titles.Sandra Belosh was a vision of calculated, high-fashion aggression. Clad in a scarlet Dior suit that mirrored the deep red of the vintage Bordeaux she was currently swirling, she looked like a female hawk waiting for the right moment to strike. Her father, the late Josh Belosh, had been a titan of industry, leaving behind a retail empire consisting of eight mass
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