Stay with me

Chapter 47 - You are my breath

Proudly throwing up his head, he paraded around the office and disappeared through the door. Omer sighed with relief and nodded to the amazed employees:

- We continue to work. Zubeyir, - he called the programmer. But he looked at Laila with loving eyes and did not hear anything around. Even the performance of the crazy photographer passed him by. Omer raised his voice: - Zubeyir!

- A! - He seemed to wake up from a dream and turned his head in confusion. - I beg your pardon, Mr. Omer! I thought about it.

- The computer does not save scanned drawings, - the boss interrupted him irritably and ordered: - Find out what's the matter, - Zubeyir rushed headlong to his laptop. Omer looked at the assistant and gave the following order:

- Laila! When the problem is fixed, scan all the sketches and save. She slowly nodded her head and smiled with the tips of her lips. But Omer did not notice her smile. He already turned to Zeyneb and Kivanc:

- You have four hours. You are finalizing the last two sketches and giving them to Laila to create an electronic copy, - he clapped his hands twice and gave the order:

- Let's work!

When the office was empty, he exhaled and looked at his watch. It is a quarter to one. And he hasn't called Defne in half a day. Omer rubbed his chin and smiled. Lunchtime. Why not spend it with his wife! Grabbing the phone, he swiftly left the office and hurried to the Sapphire.

But Defne was not there. Alina, smiling sweetly, informed him that Mrs. Defne had left for a meeting with Mr. Baisal.

"This is the damn merchant who drooled over Defne at the opening of Sapphire," Omer recalled and his hands clenched into fists.

- Where is the meeting taking place? He asked the girl.

"At the Lunch restaurant," she replied, and Omer, turning swiftly, walked to the elevator with a wide step.

***

Mr. Baisal was impeccably polite and welcoming. He helped Defne take off her coat, pulled out a chair for her, poured water into a glass, and inquired about her business. Defne smiled and replied that everything was in order, but she was limited in time and it would be great if Mr. Ozcan would immediately get to the heart of the matter.

- Of course, - he smiled charmingly. - But first, let's place an order.

He snapped his fingers and immediately as if out of the ground, a waiter appeared at their table with a menu. Defne did not take the folder. Smiling sweetly at the young boy in a black apron tied over a plaid shirt, she asked to bring her a risotto and salad. Baisal did not look at the menu either and dictated his order. When the waiter left, he looked at Defne's hair and complimented:

- You have rare hair color, Madame Defne. Noble as ancient gold.

- Thank you, - she said embarrassed and asked: - Let's move on to the topic.

- Oh sure! To tell the truth, we have already solved the issue of cooperation with Mrs. Laura. But I also have a personal order. And this is what I want to discuss with you. He took a small tablet from the inside pocket of his jacket and put it on the table.

- Ms. Defne, I am a widower raising an eighteen-year-old daughter. My wife died when Jansu was nine. My girl suffered so much and I tried my best I could to make her happy. And, of course, I spoiled her. I absolutely can't refuse her anything, - he sighed so sweetly and threw up his hands that Defne involuntarily smiled and thought that Omer would also be such a reliable daddy. Baisal, encouraged by her smile, continued his story: - And now my little girl has grown up, fell in love, and is going to get married. Her fiancé is a decent young man and I have nothing against it, but the problem arose out of the blue. Out of the blue. She wants to wear her mother's dress for the wedding.