Semua Bab My professor, my stalker: Bab 61 - Bab 70

We stop beside Delilah and Nick, who are talking with a small group of people, laughter and conversation drifting around them. Nick’s eyes catch mine, narrowing for a fraction of a second before he steps aside, giving me space. Delilah’s gaze lands on me, pointed and sharp, and I notice the way her arm brushes against Nick’s. I meet her stare evenly, and she laughs, rolling her eyes slightly. I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my own face. “Hey, Raven.” I look up, my glass halfway to my lips. “Hey, Matthew.” The criminal lawyer is standing between a man and a woman I don’t recognize, tilting his head as he scans the room, eyes briefly flicking to me. Archer is beside him, already drinking a full glass of whiskey, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he’s barely restraining himself. “Where is Tristan?” Matthew asks, curiosity clear in his tone. Nick stiffens beside him, the tension sharp. “Ah,” I murmur, taking a sip of wine to steady myself. “I left him.” Matthew rais

“I once had a judge in my court,” Toby begins, setting the bottle back down with quiet precision. His voice is steady, almost reflective, as if he’s recalling something distant—yet not distant enough. “One who specialized in cartel cases. Exceptional man. Sharp. Thorough. Had an eye for detail most people never develop.” I find myself watching him more closely than I intend to, my body loosening just slightly as the rhythm of his voice pulls me in. Almost without thinking, I lift my glass and take another sip of the cognac. The burn is still there, but it’s easier now—warmer, less shocking. “He had an unbelievable record,” Toby continues. “Never forgot a sentence. Not once. Lived for the work. Chose cartel cases whenever he could, because he wanted to tear those men apart piece by piece.” A faint smirk touches his lips. “You could say he had a bias… but we allowed it. In fact, we encouraged it. We wanted to get rid of those thugs” “They’re not th—” Jett doesn’t even get to finis

I flinch before I can stop myself. The question doesn’t just land—it sinks in, hooks deep, and pulls. What the fuck did he just ask me? My heart stutters, then slams hard enough to make me dizzy. I take a step back, putting space between us even though it feels pointless, like trying to outrun something already inside me. “We shouldn’t—” “I’m not asking if we should.” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s something fraying underneath it. “I’m asking if you would kiss me back. I want an answer.” He steps forward—longer this time, deliberate—and the air shifts with him. The space between us collapses into something thick, suffocating. It crackles with heat, with everything unsaid, everything forbidden. It feels like being touched without hands—like something invisible is already sliding over my skin, mapping me, claiming me. “We can’t—” My words break as my ass hits the edge of the desk. There’s nowhere left to go. “I’ve waited so fucking long, Raven.” His voice drops even

“I’ve always wanted to do that!” I glance sideways at Katie, the words barely registering. She’s leaned in too close to some random man, her attention locked on him like he’s the only person in the room, her lips parted in eager interest. She was the first familiar face I could find when I escaped, and in that moment, it felt safer to anchor myself to someone I knew. Now I’m not so sure. The three men in front of her are watching her—not listening, not engaging—watching. Their gazes linger too long, too sharp, too knowing. Can she not see it? The way their eyes darken at her enthusiasm. The way they exchange subtle looks when she speaks. They’re not impressed. They’re testing her. “If you want the job, you have to work for it,” one of them says, his tone smooth, but the meaning underneath it is anything but. It’s so obvious it makes my stomach turn. “I’m willing to do what it takes,” Katie replies quickly, nodding, though there’s a tightness in her expression now, something

I have just enough time to gasp before my back collides with the wooden statue behind me. The carved goddess is cold and unyielding, her edges pressing into my bare skin like a warning I don’t have time to understand. Then a hand closes around my jaw. Firm. Possessive. My chin is tipped up, forcing my gaze forward—into deep grey eyes that burn with something sharp and unrestrained. Tristan. The realization barely settles before his mouth crashes into mine. I’m driven deeper into the shadows, swallowed by the corner as his hand slides to the back of my neck, locking me in place. The other finds my waist, but it doesn’t stay there. It moves—slow, deliberate, claiming—dragging heat over my ribs, my chest, my body like he’s mapping me from memory. I kiss him back. “Raven,” he breathes against my lips, his voice rough, almost breaking. “Fuck—Raven.” Something in me snaps. My lips part, and the sound that escapes me isn’t controlled—it’s raw, startled, needy. I didn’t e