Now it was Jansu's turn to be outraged. How dare he reproach her?! He, who married her for her money!
"What self-respecting woman would do otherwise?" She asked defiantly. "I know a lot of marriages are of convenience, but this is not my case. I used to believe that you would marry me because. . ." Jansu stammered. She physically couldn't say the word "love." It was too painful, too sharp. It hurt her pride, and after all, it remained her only defense in front of Niкo.
"A Catholic does not marry a Muslim woman based on calculation!" Niko said through clenched teeth.
"Marries for two million euros!" snapped Jansu.
"What do you know about my reasons?!" Niko cried out.
He jumped to his feet and, bending down, hit the table with his palms. Jansu also leaped from her place and in the same gesture slapped her palms to the table. They stood in front of each other. The eyes clashed in a fierce battle.
"I know what I heard with my ears!" Jansu threw in his face.
"What did you hear?!"
A soft knock on the door had the effect of a bomb exploding. Both turned their faces to it. A young guy looked into the office. He looked like the young Alain Delon, he also smiled broadly and perky.
"I beg your pardon," he apologized casually. "Jansu, we were going to have lunch with you. Are the plans still in effect?"
Jansu straightened up and mentally thanked Allah for sending Mert to her now. Another minute, and she, in a fit of anger, would have said too much. She smiled at her savior and said, "All plans are in place. Wait for me in the waiting room. I'll be there in five minutes."
The guy nodded and his black-haired head disappeared from the doorway. Jansu took her purse off the hook and, putting her phone in it, informed Niko, "The meeting is over. If you have any questions, you can call Sapphire's number, and the secretary will connect you to me. Good day, Niko!"
She headed for the door - but was stopped by an iron grip. Niko squeezed her hand above the elbow and, pointing his head towards the door, asked demandingly, "Who is he?"
His anger and imperiousness hurt Jansu. Who is HE to interrogate her?!
"Mert. My boyfriend," she snapped. "And he is waiting for me. Goodbye Niko!"
Outside the door, Jansu stopped and closed her eyes. Heck! Why does she always follow the lead of anger and create problems for herself and others? Right now she pulled the unsuspecting Mert into them. And how can I explain to him now why he suddenly found himself registered as a groom?
Niko had an irresistible urge to smash something - or beat someone up. Theoretically, he understood that the boyfriend of the beautiful princess Jansu was a completely logical reality, but something inside resisted this, causing an avalanche of completely unpleasant, painful emotions.
Gloomy as the sky before a thunderstorm, Niko left Sapphire's office only a minute later to Jansu and her young Alain Delon. When he went out into the street, they were crossing the road at a green traffic light. Niko stopped, scanning their backs with a heavy gaze. The guy said something to Jansu. She raised her head and smiled at him. The burning sensation in his chest became unbearable. Niko rubbed it with his hand and said quietly, addressing the guy, "Sorry, handsome, but your time is up. I'm not going to change my plans."
"And yet you are a favorite of luck!" Jansu said mockingly to herself.
She was choosing words for twenty minutes to tell Mert about her lie and his involuntary participation in it, but he got ahead of her, saying that in a couple of days he was going to an internship in Rome.
"Mr. Omer sends me to a company specializing in information security. Passionis and Sapphire need to have a highly qualified specialist in this area."
Mert spoke while glancing at the menu and not looking at his companion. She was more cheerful and perked up.
"And how long will you be away?" She asked.
"A year," he replied. "I will simultaneously complete my Master's degree at the University of Rome."
"For a whole year?" Jansu was surprised. "What about your job?"
"I can do it remotely. The main thing is to have the Internet. And to solve simple problems, Mr. Omer hires an IT specialist for technical support."
Mert selected the dishes and named them to the waiter who approached. Jansu, without even looking at the menu, made her order and, waiting for the waiter to leave, said, "A whole year. That's a long time. Esra and Banu will get bored without you."
Mert's lips twitched. But that was the only manifestation of his emotions. His voice sounded completely calm. "Esra and Banu won't have time to get bored. University and student life await them."
Jansu looked intently into his eyes and asked, "And you? Are you going to miss them?"
Mert did not answer. He just smiled wryly with one corner of his lips.
Jansu did not tell Mert that she had signed herself as his bride. He is leaving. No more collisions with Niko. And in a year Niko himself will not be in Istanbul. Returning to the office, she tried to get the burning black eyes out of her head and get down to work. Only they again and again surfaced in front of the inner gaze.
In the evening her father called. He, as usual, spoke to his daughter warmly and affectionately, but Jansu caught his concern and demanded to tell what new problems had arisen in Izmir.
Her father did not lie. The time when he saw a little girl in his daughter had passed. For a couple of years now, as in business matters, he communicated with her on an equal footing.
"I hired a specialist and he checked the security systems of our Izmir stores. They have serious miscalculations. I have to stay here for two or three weeks," he said.
Jansu decided not to tell him about Niko for now. Her father already got some serious problems on his mind. There's no need to add new ones to him now. The appearance of a former son-in-law will not be a source of joy for him. She only reminded, "Saturday is Emine Diana's birthday. She will be upset if you are not there."
"I will come," her father promised. "I'll arrive in the morning and fly away in the evening."
Dad will arrive. So, she has to tell him. But not now. Saturday morning.
They had barely finished the conversation when the phone rang again. Thinking that it was her father who had forgotten to tell something, Jansu, without looking at the screen, mechanically took the call. But the voice on the phone wasn't her father's. Its thick notes and Italian accent made her heart flutter in her chest.
"Are you alone?" Niko asked.
"Strange question," she replied. "I do not understand the reasons for its occurrence."
"I'm standing outside your house," he said. "The light burns only in your window. I know that your father is in Izmir. I heard at the reception. But I understand perfectly well that you can have a guest in your room. So I ask - are you alone?"
Jansu gasped in anger. What does he allow himself, this Niko Bianco? Ignoring the question, she asked her own, "Where did you get my phone number?"
"A stupid question for someone as clever as you," Niko drawled derisively. "Your number is known to everyone who moves in Turkish jewelry circles." He was silent for a couple of seconds - and then added, "But I took it from your sister. I called Defne, said that I urgently need to clarify something about the work, but I do not have your number. She kindly informed me of it."
"Unfortunately, Defne doesn't know how deceitful and insidious you can be," Jansu said.
Suppressing the outbreak of anger, Niko thought, "You also don't know how sneaky I can be either."
Aloud he said, "Maybe we will stop exchanging barbs? I called to invite you to dinner."
"Why on earth?" Jansu was surprised. "You do have a lo ... girlfriend. Dazzlingly beautiful supermodel Monica Galvano. I'm sure she'll be happy to accompany you to dinner."
"Monica flew to Milan," Niko reported.
"And you decided to replace her with me?" Jansu asked ironically. "Sorry, but it won't work. I don't play such games."
"Replacement? You are wrong, dear. You are special. A nail in my thoughts and my heart! "
He clicked his tongue reproachfully and said, "Jansu, I do not recognize you! Is it not dignified for a princess to allow such thoughts?"
"The princess died four years ago," Jansu thought bitterly. But even the shadow of this bitterness was not reflected in her voice.
"Niko, if this is all you wanted to talk to me about, then let's end this pointless conversation. I'm tired and hungry."
"But I'm suggesting you come to dinner," he said in a completely different, softer tone.
"It's out of the question," she said flatly. "I don't want to dress up, and then wait another forty minutes in a restaurant for an order. Moreover, in the kitchen kofte with rice prepared by our Zeyneb's golden hands is waiting for me. I'll warm them up and have a great dinner."
"I haven't eaten kofte with rice for a hundred years," said Niko.
"What's the problem? Go to a restaurant and order them!" advised Jansu.
"But they will not be cooked by the golden hands of Zeyneb," he objected, recalling that he once ate the dishes of the Baisals housekeeper. "Maybe you'll let me in and share your dinner?"
It was a shocking request. Niko - at her house. Just like four years ago. Then his appearance ended in disaster. But at that time she was stupid and self-confident, she saw the world in rosy colors. Now everything has changed.
"Jansu, I'm very hungry," he drawled piteously.
His tone broke her resistance. Jansu sighed and allowed, "Okay. Come in."
Carelessly tossing the phone on the bed, she went downstairs, - and turned on the light on the first floor. The doorbell rang. Jansu went to open the door, trying not to think about the mistake she was making. Niko, all so casually handsome, stood on the doorstep and smiled with the smile of a Cheshire cat. Jansu did not succumb to his charm. Nodding her head towards the hall, she rudely ordered, "Come in. But don't expect any trappings of romance. An ordinary dinner in the kitchen. Let's eat and you will immediately disappear from this house."
"And my life," she added mentally.
Niko looked at the hall carefully. Almost nothing has changed here, except for the children's drawings on the mirrors. Jansu, without waiting for him, went to the kitchen. Niko followed. She already hosted the kitchen counter. She cut the bread, laid out the cutlery, took it out of the oven, and put the fragrant kofte with crumbly rice on the plates. She did it easily and deftly. Niko was surprised. Once upon a time, Princess Jansu could not even make coffee.
"You're good at being the lady of the house," he said.
"Defne and her grandmother taught me," Jansu said with a warm smile. "These are the real hostesses of the ninety-ninth level. I grew up without a mother. Only with my dad. All women's wisdom passed me by, and I thought that I simply didn't have a hand in household chores. But grandmother Turkan put my brains in place. She scolded me well and took up my upbringing.
Jansu fell silent, remembering that time. She then thought she would die of pain. But her father, Defne, the small bead Emine Diana and grandmother Turkan were nearby. They gave her the strength not to drown in despair, pulled her into routines, and taught her that life is what is happening now. There is no need to think about the past and look into the future. This is a futile exercise.
Jansu shook her head and walked over to the refrigerator to drive away from the memories. Opening it, she asked, "What will you drink? There is red and white wine, soda, and pomegranate juice."
"What will you drink?" Niko asked.
"I'll have juice," cut off Jansu, mentally adding, "My head is already giddy. It only lacks wine".
"Then I'll have juice too," he said.
Jansu took out a jug of dark ruby liquid from the fridge and put it on the counter. Pouring juice into glasses, she gestured to Niko at a high stool.
"Have a seat and get on with it. It'll get cold."
They ate in silence. Everyone looked at their plate. When they were empty, Jansu asked, "Dessert? There is baklava."
"If you make tea for it ..." Niko replied.
"With lemon and mint?"
The words came out on their own. She didn't want to remember his eating habits, but her mind was prompting her with the right images from the past - May evening. A pastry shop in the old quarter of Istanbul. The sun gilded the waters of the Bosphorus. Cats stretch lazily on the sidewalk. Niko and she sit at the street table and order.
"Honey baklava with pistachios," he says, "and mint tea with lemon. There is nothing tastier than this hot couple!" - He winks at the bride, and she soars in the clouds...
"You do remember...," the real Niko's voice broke into her thoughts.
"I have always had a good memory," Jansu said, - and stood up to turn on the kettle.
While it, hissing and gurgling, boiled water, she stuffed dirty dishes into the dishwasher, put clean cutlery on the counter, took out baklava from the fridge and put it on the dish, cut a lemon, and found mint tea in the depths of the kitchen cabinet. Niko watched her, and something melancholy-nagging rose in his chest. He knew that he would never forget this evening and, once he left Istanbul, he would never drink mint tea with lemon again.
"Ah, Jansu! He thought bitterly. "Why didn't you believe in me four years ago? Why didn't you give me a chance to solve the problems? Why did you leave without even trying to take a few steps along the same road with me? After all, I would never let you live in poverty. My debts were my debts, but you would live your life as usual. And so..."
She put a cup of tea in front of him. Without controlling his actions, Niko grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. Confusion flashed in Jansu's eyes, but she didn't resist. She stood motionless and looked into his eyes. He could not stand the reproach and regret that was reflected in them. He lowered his eyes to her lips, neck, chest. Wandering his gaze, he said hoarsely, "You are very beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever known."
"But beauty didn't help me become loved," she said quietly. Freeing her wrist from his hand, Jansu stepped back and sat down in her seat.
"Maybe you just didn't consider love and didn't give it a chance?" Niko asked in the same dull voice.
She wanted to scream and say whatever she thought about his assumptions. Hit him so that he rolls over with his high stool. Jansu from the past would have done so. But not the current one.
"Drink your tea," she said coldly.
Niko took tiny sips of the divine tea, but only perceived the taste with a distant part of his mind. All his attention was focused on Jansu. She slowly stirred the light golden liquid with a spoon in her cup, looked at its swirls, and was silent.
"How did you live these years?" He asked.
"Day by day," she replied. "I studied. Worked."
"I burned you out of my head and heart with a hot iron."
Jansu scolded herself for saying this and shot a glance at Niko. Thank God he can't read minds. But he intends to find out them.
"Did you remember me, at least occasionally?" He asked.
Jansu looked at him warningly. Niko raised his hands and said, "That's it! I don't ask objectionable questions, iron lady Jansu."
"What an honor," she muttered ironically. "From the capricious princess, I went up to the iron lady. Progress."
"Not for me," Nico said, looking at her point-blank. "I miss the cocky, spoiled princess."
Everything inside trembled with a small shiver and tears welled up in her eyes. What is he doing? Why does he say such words? She is not made of iron! Not iron at all...
Jansu jumped off the stool, grabbed the cup of tea from his hands, put it on the table, and pointed her chin at the door, "You have to go."
Niko didn't budge. He looked at her with burning eyes. This look incinerated her soul. But something new, strong, irrepressible was born on the ashes. Jansu was afraid of it. She was afraid of revived feelings and desires. She didn't want to be led by them again and ruin the peace of mind she had acquired with such difficulty.
"Why are you so afraid of a frank conversation? Niko asked. "Perhaps it will help us get out of the swamp of doubts and understand a lot."
And find hope again? And along with it the desire, longing, suffering, and torment? No! Enough for her. The second time she will not rush into the pool with her head.
"You have to go!" She repeated with deliberation.
Niko shook his head. "Iron is too soft," he said. "You are a titanium, Princess Jansu."
He got to his feet and walked to the exit from the kitchen. On the threshold, he looked around and said, "See you. We still have many meetings ahead."
"Go to hell!" she screamed mentally. Aloud she said coldly, "Business meetings. Because there is nothing else between us and cannot be."
"We'll see," He said and disappeared through the door.
Jansu fell onto a stool and dropped her head into her hands.
Niko walked straight to the door. Anger raged in his blood. He didn't come to a step closer to Jansu. But, even worse, there were even more doubts and questions in his head. She is offended by him. But why? Wasn't it she, after learning that her husband was a beggar, left him and filed for divorce? Then why such a deep and acute resentment?
With peripheral vision, he noticed children's drawings attached to the mirror. Niko stopped. The drawings depicted a girl with orange hair. But on each new one, it was surrounded by different people and animals. The little artist had talent. The drawings were naive and simple, but meanwhile, Niko recognized the people. A black-haired man with a beard is her father, Omer Iplikci. The red-haired, laughing woman is her mother. The man with gray hair and a long nose is Ozcan Baisal. Niko looked at the next drawing and gasped. It depicted a bride in a long dress and veil. And this bride was very reminiscent of Jansu. And below - hands joined in a prayer gesture and the signature is clearly in a woman's handwriting: "My soul, Emine dreams of seeing you as a bride. And so do all of us!"
But the groom was not next to the bride. But what about the blue-eyed handsome Alain Delon? Frowning, Niko Bianco left the house, carefully slamming the door behind him.
***
The next day, articles appeared in the newspapers about the reception given by the Jewelers Association, with many photographs of the rich and famous. Among them was the image of Jansu and Niko dancing. In the evening, a photo in the newspapers appeared alone, and under it was an article with the headline: "Former spouses met at a ball. Have the old feelings flashed with renewed vigor? "
Jansu read the article, which consisted of a description of the history of the past and conjectures of the present. Throwing the newspaper away from her like a dirty toad, she cursed through her teeth.
"Here are the freaks! Don't they have anything else to write about!"
The phone rang in her pocket. Without even looking at the screen, Jansu knew who was calling.
"I'm listening," she breathed resignedly.
"Jansu, what does it mean? Father's voice sounded stern. "Why didn't you tell me that Niko showed up in Istanbul?"
"I didn't want to worry you," she admitted honestly. "You already have a lot of problems. In addition, Niko appeared in Istanbul purely for business purposes. He wants to establish cooperation with Omer and Defne. There is no personal relationship between us and there cannot be."
"Do you need me? Shall I arrive?" the father asked anxiously.
"Dad, what nonsense?" She was indignant. "Take care of the security of the Izmir shops. This is much more important than the appearance of my ex-husband in Istanbul."
Defne flew into her husband's office with a newspaper in her hands. He was working on another sketch of shoes, but as soon as he saw his wife, he put down his pencil and broke into a smile.
"Look!" She put the newspaper in front of him. "Intuition did not disappoint me. Niko Bianco is Jansu's ex-husband."
Omer read the article and shrugged. "It doesn't mean anything yet. Four years have passed. Most likely, all feelings are a long-forgotten past, and now there is only a business relationship between Jansu and Niko."
"And if not?" Defne asked the question impetuous and sincerely worried about all her many relatives. "If the feelings are alive?"
"If they are alive, then only Jansu and Niko can decide what to do with them next," Omer replied judiciously.
"I'm worried about her," defended Defne plaintively.
Omer hugged her, pulled her to his knees, and, burying his nose in her chest, said, "I know. But you cannot change anything. Trust your sister. She's smart."
In Rome, they learned about the article in the morning. Lucia Bianco saw in the news feed, - and ran with the phone to her mother.
"Mama, look! " She exclaimed, showing her the image on the screen. "Niko made up with Jansu!"
Signora Hortensе Salvatore-Bianco looked at the article and coldly scolded her daughter, "Don't repeat the tabloid press nonsense. Niko is engaged to Ornella. She will be his wife."
"But, mama ...," tried to argue Lucia.
"Go to your room and get busy," Signora Hortensе ordered in a steel voice.
When her daughter left, she went to the window and, looking in front of her, stopped at its stained-glass windows. Her lips were compressed into a thin thread, an icy cold froze in her eyes. A thin wrinkle lined her forehead and grew deeper with each passing second.
"Never," whispered the haughty lady. "That's never gonna happen. I won't allow it."
Niko has not seen Jansu for 36 hours. He, not admitting this to himself, was bored. When they brought the newspaper, he looked at the photo and smiled with satisfaction. He, yesterday before lunch, called the editorial office and reminded them that Jansu Baisal and Niko Bianco are ex-husband and wife. Does Jansu want to hide it? But he didn't want to! Let everyone know that Jansu is his wife ... it doesn't matter what the ex. He is back!