Defne's soul fell in her heels from a familiar voice, but she gave no sign. And did not let go of Omer's hand. Slowly she turned around and looked at the woman, who was her friend, an enemy, and a pain in her heart. She has changed. She has cut her hair and cynical shine appeared in her eyes. Or maybe it was always there, only skillfully hiding under a meek look?
Omer let go of her hand and Defne got colder, but the next moment, a hot joy struck like a fountain - he hugged her waist and pulled her closer.
- Fikret? His voice sounded cold. "I did not expect to see you here." As I recall, Italy was a taboo for you.
- It was. But I decided that it was enough to be afraid and hide in the corners, "she answered defiantly and looked at his red-haired companion. Her cheek twitched involuntarily, but she immediately disguised her dislike with a smile.
- Defne! Are you here too?
Defne smiled boldly in response.
- Well, since Tranba and Passionis represent Turkey here, and I am the chief designer of Tranba ...
"And my wife," Omer reminded her.
He caressed her with a glance, and Defne's smile, when she looked at her husband, from a formal turned into warm, like sunlight.
"And your wife," she confirmed.
- The chief designer of Trаnba? - Fikret was unpleasantly surprised but tried to hide her emotions behind a smile too wide. "Besides, the wife of Omer Iplikci?" Bravo! You have stepped far forward. Do your relatives still live in the neighborhood?
It became funny for Defne. What a pathetic attempt to bite more painfully. Does Fikret really think that she, Defne, can be ashamed of her family and the fact that she herself grew up in a neighborhood?
- Yes. And grandmother is still cooking the best manti and beans in Istanbul," she replied proudly.
- I'm glad. Tell her hello from me, - nevertheless, irritation burst out on the last word.
"Sure," Defne's voice sounded ironic.
"Fikret," Omer intervened in their conversation, "we were glad to see you, but Defne and I wanted to dance."
"Wait," Fikret, grabbing the sleeve, stopped him. Omer looked at her fingers on his forearm, then at her and she hastily pulled her hand away. - I specially flew from New York to meet with you. I saw on the Internet that Passionis was going to organize a charity event in support of cancer patients. This topic is close to me ..." she shrugged up and firmly declared: "I want to take part. "
Defne softened and felt guilty. A person flew in to support a good deed, and she went in old insults. Shameful.
Omer was also surprised and asked again:
- Participate? Although, you always did charity work. But I do not make such decisions alone. I have to consult with partners. "He looked at the lively conversations of Sinan and Deniz with Ardini: - Tomorrow.
"Good," Fikret agreed instantly. "I'll be here until Monday." If you agree, I will immediately fly to Istanbul. I saw your latest collection. If you are going to engage it in the show, then I already have ready-made sketches of outfits for it.
- Fikret, wait! Let me talk to partners first," he besieged her enthusiasm. - And now - all the best. Defne and I want to dance. Have a nice evening. See you.
He nodded and led Defne to a table-free semicircle near a small stage where a saxophonist performed a slow composition. A young, fair-haired girl accompanied him on the piano. It seemed that the guy playing the saxophone and her, a single whole. They did not look at each other but felt with their skin, and the melody sounded sensual and penetrating.
Omer hugged Defne at the waist and pulled her to him. He pressed his cheek to her temple, and slowly swaying to the beat of the music, he whispered at the very ear:
- They are also in love.
- Who? - dissolving in his arms, obeying them, and the saxophone in love Defne just as quietly asked.
- The musicians.
His breath warmed her temple. Defne smiled and unknowingly touched a strip of skin between the collar of his shirt and the nape of his neck with her finger. Omer winced but did not pull away. Tickling was pleasant and excited the blood.
- How do you know that they are in love? - leaning back in the ring of his arms and looking at his beloved face, she asked.
- To play, as if they are one and the music is their continuation, can only lovers.
He looked at her as if there was nobody else in the whole world. Like she is the water in the desert, a sunbeam breaking through the clouds after a storm, food for a starving man. So, as if she is his whole life.
Fikret sat at a table in the corner and watched the couple dance. Defne's gesture, when she ran her finger along Omer's neck, didn't go unnoticed by her. As well as the response of Omer.
Once, removing a fallen leaf, she also touched his neck, and he staggered back as if a snake had touched him. And now...
Inside resentment and anger boiled. Why Defne? Why? She lied, fooled him, betrayed him, but he looks at her as an icon. Why does she, Fikret, who supported him in a difficult moment of life, he barely tolerates? Is this fair? Upon learning that Passionis will participate in the fair, she rushed here across the ocean. From the gossipy Derya, who always bowed to the world star Fikret Galo and was in seventh heaven with the happiness that the famous couturier called her, an ordinary assistant, she asked what hotel Omer would stay in and ordered a room in it herself. Having stepped on her pride, she found out from the same Derya about her boss's daily routine and his meetings. She came here alone and, like a fool, spent the whole evening alone at the table. And he didn't even notice. But what did he even notice besides his plain girl from a neighborhood whom he had elevated to the rank of a queen? Nothing! And nobody! How sickening....
***
Iplikci returned to their room closer to midnight. Defne, who from this long and eventful day was very tired, looked at Omer. He looked thoughtful. She threw off her shoes and went barefoot to him. She pressed her hand to the dark stubble on his cheek and, looking into his eyes, asked:
- What's the matter? Thinking of Fikret's offer?
He nodded and pressed his cheek against her palm.
- The offer is good. I understand that with my mind. But something inside is stopping me.
- Intuition? Asked Defne softly.
"The reason coming from the heart," he recalled her words.
She smiled and pulled his hand toward the sofa. Omer took off his jacket, threw it on the back, and loosened his tie. Sitting on the sofa, he reached for Defne. She obediently moved closer, pulled up her bare feet under herself, and laid her head on his shoulder.
"But you don't have to work with her," remarked reasonably. "Your shoes are ready." If she wants to sew clothes for them - let her sew. Darling, her name will attract new investors and new donations. Because of our insults and ambitions, we cannot deprive sick people of hope. After all, every money is the minutes and hours of someone's life.
Omer felt warmth in his chest. His merciful angel. This is the whole of Defne - for the sake of others who need help, she agrees to forget her grievances and sacrifice her peace of mind.
"But it will be unpleasant for you to see Fikret," Defne shot a surprised look at him, and he explained: "I know about the letter," Sukru told me. I imagine that you survived while I had it.
"Like a sharp sword it hung over me," she answered. "I loved you so much and was afraid to lose you." How many times I wanted to say, but my tongue seemed to glue to the palate, and I could not squeeze a word out of me. At some point, I gave up. I decided - let it happen. Let him read and be what happens. But Sukru brought me this damn letter, Nihan tore it to shreds and everything returned to its former rails. Until the wedding...
She spoke on this, such a painful and important topic for Omer. Therefore, he took a chance and asked what had been haunting him for months - why, at the wedding, she admitted to lying:
- You could not step into the new life with a lie, right?
She nodded and smiled sadly:
- I could not...
"My brave girl," Omer hugged her with both hands and pressed her head to his chest. - Then I was angry with you, and now I admire and proud. You were strong, but I was unmerciful...
"You are a person." Like me. Mistakes are inherent to people. "Defne raised her head and looked into his face. "But we fixed them." Right?
"True," Omer returned her golden head to its place and pressed his cheek against the top of the head.
He knew that there were still many mistakes ahead, but they would always correct them together.
***
In the morning, while having breakfast in the hotel restaurant, Omer briefly told his partners the evening conversation with Fikret. Pragmatic, lacking the sentiments Iz and Trаnba, reacted favorably to the proposal. Seda, who knew about Fikret only that she was a world-famous fashion designer, supported them. Sinan frowned and asked:
- But it will not work as before with the store? She suggested, she refused and waved her hand goodbye - he backed up his words with a corresponding gesture.
Omer and Defne looked at each other. No one except the two of them and Fikret did not know why she abandoned the idea of the store and left. Omer lowered his eyes and answered with restraint:
- No. You know how Fikret is obsessed with charity.
"Well, yes," he agreed. "Then I have no objection." Let her join.
"You can tell her about it yourself," Omer nodded at a table in the far corner. Behind it, like last night, Fikret sat completely alone. Sipping tea, she was looking out the window and nervously tapped her fingers on the table only to her known melody. Sinan looked at her and answered:
- Not now. Forty minutes later, the fair opens, which means no later than half an hour later we should be in the exhibition hall of the Gallery. Round off with breakfast and go! We are waiting for the crazy three days. "He flashed a white-toothed smile and winked at his partner. "We did it all the same!" Do you believe that Passionis participates in the European shoe festival? To me, all this still seems like a dream.
"Then don't wake up, brother." Do not wake up, - Omer patted his shoulder and looked around. "By the way, where are Koray and Derya?"
"Gone for breakfast at the famous café-confectionery, which is around the corner," Sinan grinned.
- Together? - exclaimed in astonishment the astounded Omer and Defne, and Iz and Tranba laughed merrily.
- Imagine. Yesterday, so that he would not interfere with us at the meeting and would not shock a potential client with his behavior, I gave them a prize with Derya and sent them shopping. This is from the category of fiction, and I would never have believed that this could be, but they seemed to like not only it but also each other's company.
- You are a genius! - Omer shook his head admiringly. "You also must have a bonus." Or an extra vacation.
Sinan looked at Seda, who was discussing something enthusiastically with Iz and smiled dreamily.
"I will hold you for your word, brother."
***
Defne did not even expect the fair to be so crowded and eventful. One of the long, glass-roofed corridors of the Gallery of Vittorio Emanuel, for several days, turned into a shoe showroom. Defne accurately found with her eyes the shop windows of Passionis Tranba. A small crowd of expensively dressed men and women gathered near them. They examined model samples, spoke quietly among themselves, approached the counter that Derya stood at, and took business cards. Some, seeing the owners of firms rushed to them. Omer only managed to momentarily squeeze his wife's thin fingers and they were separated. Defne was carried away to the showcase, by a young Italian woman who introduced herself as the creative director of the famous Fashion House, and Omer was taken into a conversation by the owner of a shoe shop-chain. As soon as he agreed on a meeting, he left, when the second came up, then the third client. Omer smiled kindly, answered questions, and from time to time looked around for his wife. He caught her look and smiled. And then he returned to the conversation.
At some point, a gap was created in the flow of potential customers. The previous one departed, and the next was in no hurry to appear. Omer looked around for his wife. She stood a little to the side and spoke with a gray-haired old man in square, thick-rimmed glasses. In him, Omer with surprise and joy recognized his design teacher from the Academy of Arts. Smiling broadly, he headed toward them.
- Professor Guillermo! How glad I am to see you," he exclaimed and warmly shook the hand of the teacher.
"Omer, my brilliant student!" And I'm so glad. I tell your story to each new course of students and direct them to take an example from you. "He winked and turned to Defne. "A fine senorita, so you still have to answer to me why you and this worthy young man have one last name?"
Defne and Omer looked at each other and shone the same, happy smiles. The man hugged the "beautiful senorita" by the waist and answered the teacher:
- Defne is my wife and I can proudly say that there is nobody happier than me in the world.
Defne blushed and looked down, and the teacher exclaimed joyfully:
- Omer! Congratulations! You have chosen a wonderful girl! And you, beautiful senorita! Your choice is impeccable. I wish you great, endless happiness and, as they say in your homeland? To grow old on one pillow!
"Thank you, Senor Guillermo," Defne bowed.
"Thank you, teacher," extremely surprised by such talkativeness of the always silent and self-absorbed professor, Omer held out his hand, which he shook with both hands.
"And yet," the professor leaned closer to Omer and said quietly: "As for design, your wife is unique." Support her and do not interfere. I do not know who her teacher was, but she is his honor and praise. So subtly to feel the soul of the artist and not ruin his identity - this is a skill.
"My teacher is Omer," Defne suddenly spoke and looked at her husband. He shone with pride, and at that moment she suddenly felt that everything had worked out.
She found herself.
She is needed and important.
She is loved.
And from this awareness collapsed all the boundaries that previously held her back. Defne realized that she was free. To create, to love, to breathe deeply.
To live!
She wanted to do something crazy. That which the former, clamped by conventions, Defne would never have allowed itself. She turned to Omer, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him on the lips. He did not pull back and was not indignant that there was nor the place nor the time. He grabbed her and, pulling her off the floor, passionately answered the kiss. Around the applause sounded, which grew into an ovation. Tranba and Sinan just looked at each other and grinned. Well, what else to expect from these crazy Iplikci? And Professor Guillermo looked at Omer and his wonderful wife with a wise smile. He was glad that his brilliant student was no longer alone.
When Omer broke away from her beloved lips and put Defne to her feet, when the applause died down, when the lovers finally remembered where they were and unfastened their arms, Professor Guillermo hastened to say goodbye. He already, knowing about the participation of Passionis at the fair and wanting to see a former student, lingered and was late for classes.
Omer looked after him in the wake and, not paying attention to the visitors of the fair who were closely watching them, asked his wife:
- How did you meet? This is Professor Guillermo! A genius living in his world and paying little attention to anyone.
Defne shrugged vaguely.
- I do not even know. Somehow it turned out by itself. He stood at the shop windows for a long time and looked at your shoes first, then mine. Chewing his lip, frowning and pulling his hair, - Omer smiled at such an accurate description. How nevertheless Defne is attentive to details.
- Then he asked who is the author of the models. Derya pointed to me. He walked up and stopped. He examined me for a long time, like the shoes before that. "Defne raised her eyebrows ridiculously and Omer poked his fist. - And then he asked my name. I introduced myself, and he asked who I was for you. At that moment you came up.
- Darling congratulations! - Omer smiled broadly. "Your shoes got the highest rating." Professor Guillermo is Europe's most recognized design specialist. One rarely heard praise from him, and so that right away, he called someone unique - this is a big prize for your work.
Defne raised her eyebrows in surprise and asked again:
- Seriously?
- Absolutely! And he hadn't seen your jewelry designs yet. "He smiled like a contented cat. - Be proud, my love! You're the best! - he leaned towards her ear and uttered in a whisper so that only she could hear: - In all respects.
Professor Guillermo's attention to the Turkish exposition did not go hidden from the representatives of retail chains present. Sinan, Deniz, and Omer were under the pressure of interested customers. Derya and Ruya clutched their heads in horror, trying to squeeze in seventy-two hours countless meetings and negotiations.
But Omer Iplikci was in the center of not only business interests. His arrival in Milan was also of interest to another audience, which is usually called the "former". Moreover, these former are all involved in the same fashion sector. A tall blonde appeared up first and kissed the cheek of an "old friend," as she called Omer. He darkened, but behaved politely and from the very first seconds informed the former classmate, with whom he had once passed a couple of evenings that he was married. Defne, who, together with Deniz, was discussing with the Greek representatives the design features of the shoes on display, clenched her fist.
But later she was not laughing. Beauties appeared one after another. Designers, creative directors of large companies, single women, artists in an endless search. And each, seductively smiling, recalled the unforgettable student days (and not only days) that she had spent with the magnificent Omer Iplikci.
He, without cheating оn his upbringing and good manners, was in a hurry to translate the conversation into a business and carefully get rid of each. And he was looking at Defne. At first, her face was serious, and the looks cast upon him were mocking. Then these looks became surprised and sparkling with anger. And then they were gone at all. Defne turned away and Omer was chilled with fear that she was offended by him for his past.
Damn! How did he forget that this is Milan? The city where he had lived for five years and, naturally, did not deny himself the pleasure of spending a couple of evenings with а girl. After all, they had no meaning for him. Just how to prove it now to Defne. Moreover, in a crowded room, where the clarification of relations will harm not only both firms but also Turkey. And he silently clenched his teeth, politely send away another ex-passion and mentally begged Defne to believe him.
She believed. She understood that all these girls are past and have no meaning to the present. She believed but was incredibly angry. This anger was born not in the head, but the chest and completely did not yield to control and persuasion of sober reason. But, remembering what she had recently made a scandal for the jealousy of Omer, she showed miracles of willpower and restrained herself. She simply turned and stepped away so as not to hear the animated and musical speech of damned Italians.
Defne felt Omer with her skin. It began tingling around the back of her head, and then a confident hand lay on her back.
"Will this day ever end?" The husband muttered softly.
- But why? - She stepped back a step, turned to him, and looked wide-eyed. "You're having such a good time!"
"Defne," Omer said warningly and glanced around. By the evening the crowd had subsided and the exhibition hall was rapidly empty.
- What, Defne? Defne! Did Defne interfere? - meanwhile, the wife was sarcastically interested. - Allah Allah! What a harem! Sultan Selim turns in his grave with envy.
"Defne," Omer's tone changed and became conciliatory. - These are just former classmates.
- Aah! What is going on? - Defne raised her eyebrows. - You probably had a diversity course? And you met with everyone!
- Defne, enough! It was a long time ago and did not have any importance to me.
"Maybe you will say the same about me some time," she said inaudibly, but it would be better to yell or hit. How can she say such a thing or compare his love for her and meaningless flirting in the distant past?
- Have you lost your mind? - a metal sounded in his voice. "Do you hear yourself now?" You are the most important thing for me and you know it!
Defne knew. She knew now. But life is so long and unpredictable. And who knows what will happen in ten years?
She did not have time to answer. Sinan, shining with inspiration, came up to them and, winking, said:
- Well? Celebrate our success at dinner tonight? Deniz suggests going to the New Yacht r-t. They say that it is a cozy place, and with amazingly tasty cooking there.
"Great choice," Omer agreed frowningly.
Taking Defne's hand, he strode wide and quick and led her to the exit. She could hardly keep up with him. Like the rest of the four. Sinan and Seda looked at each other knowingly, and Tranba grinned cheerfully and a little gloatingly. Yeah! If you watch these Iplikci, then you do not need to watch movies. Roller coaster. Now up, then down, and so on without end.
Taxis decided not to take. The New Yacht r-t was some two blocks away and after a whole day indoors, walking through the beautiful evening city, admiring the placers of lights and the dark blue velvet sky, is a pleasure. If Omer hadn't run like that yet. Defne stopped, and he was forced to do the same.
"If you run like that, then I will fall," she said with her eyes to her exquisite shoes. "Either go quietly or let go of my hand and run yourself," she said reasonably.
То release her hand? What else! But she is right. She has all day on high heels, probably her legs are killing her now. He jerked to pick her up, but Defne put her hand forward and ordered:
- Do not dare! Just let's go slowly and enjoy the walk.
Omer nodded and bent his elbow. He was still angry, but Defne's comfort was above all. She took his arm and they slowly walked along the street.
In the restaurant, as soon as the group crossed the threshold, the owner of the establishment hurried towards them. Pouring Italian speech in English and Turkish words, he cordially greeted the guests and led them to the table. A curly-haired, black-eyed boy waiter appeared right there and served each menu. But Defne was in no hurry to look at it. While the rest made an order, she examined the interior of the restaurant. It was skillfully stylized as a yacht cabin. The round windows looked like ship windows, and the decor had an incredible amount of curious things on a nautical theme: on the walls were paintings of the sea and old fishing nets; in the corners - wooden trunks trimmed with copper and a ships helm, and between the windows - an aquarium with bright fish. Defne fascinatedly examined every detail and shuddered when the waiter gently touched her shoulder and asked if the beautiful Senorita had chosen her dinner. Defne blushed and hastily buried herself on the menu, but it suddenly floated from her fingers. It was Omer who pulled it out and gave it to the young man, accompanying his gesture with the words:
"The beautiful Senora" he emphasized the last word," she will have linguines and lobster with a glass of white wine.
"Defne looked back at her husband. But he, as if not noticing her gaze, frowned at the trail of the departing waiter. Just it is unbelievable how touchy he is!
Defne turned to the others and asked:
- And what are our results on the first day of the fair?
"I have four meetings tomorrow, Omer has three," Sinan answered. - Saturday is also scheduled. Sunday, I hope, will remain free. Still, we are in Milan. The most beautiful city and the modern capital of world fashion. Everyone wants to take a walk and buy gifts. "He looked at Seda and smiled.
Gifts! Right! Her family will wait for her to bring them presents from Italy. So Sunday morning will have to be devoted to shopping.
"Just don't have to smile so dreamily," Tranba interrupted her thoughts. "If you remember, I don't have a partner with whom I can share the meetings." And there are six tomorrow. If you make me company - I will be glad.
"Better take Seda," Omer sarcastically advised. "There will be more benefit from Defne in the showroom." All Italians and French, like bees to honey, flock to her red hair. And at the same time, they are also interested in our models of shoes," he added with barely covered sarcasm.
Defne even gasped from such injustice. Indeed, today several Italians and one Frenchman complimented her hair. But this is just a courtesy. And in general, at that moment Omer was busy talking with potential customers and former girlfriends! She shot a glance at him. Omer was sitting in his chair and continued to ignore her glances. Defne began to boil. Narrowing her eyes, she looked at Denise and answered:
- Good. I will be happy to keep you company tomorrow. And Mr. Omer, between important meetings, let him quietly enjoy the company of former classmates. They haven't seen each other for so long.
Defne heard Omer gasp and smile triumphantly at one corner of her lips.
"No, really," Deniz said with a grin. "I'd better take Seda." Or then Omer will disrupt both his and my meetings.
Sinan in horror closed his eyes. Iz and Seda could not stand it and started to laugh. And Iplikci themselves only turned their heads away in different directions and, with the same gesture, proudly lifted their chins.
They brought the order. Hungry, like a wolf, Defne plunged a fork into her linguines. She deftly twisted them into her mouth and closed her eyes. Masterpiece! And how after this one eats pasta sprinkled with tomato sauce?
Sinan raised a glass of wine and said cheerfully:
- Cheers to us! May this fair become the springboard to the international success of Passionis and Tranba.
- То us!
Others reached for his glass. Omer was the last to raise his own. He touched everyone at once, and then defiantly hit Defne's glass. The thin crystal rang gently and loudly.
- То us! - said confidently and in her chest, the heart skipped a beat.
Yeah! But her life next to Omer will not be boring for sure.
They returned to the hotel in a noisy crowd. Omer was still in silence, but the rest chatted incessantly. They discussed the shop windows of other brands and models from their collections, were enthusiastic about Milan at night and the magnificent Cathedral illuminated from below by lanterns.
In the lobby of the hotel, they burst amicably into one elevator and pressed their floors in turn. Omer and Defne came out on the fifth and ran into Fikret standing in the corridor.
"Good night," Fikret answered and clenched her fists.
- They agree. Discuss the details with Sinan. He and Seda Berensel are closely involved in the organization. And now I'm sorry - we had a difficult day, and we are tired. Good night.
Omer was taken aback by such persistence and was momentarily confused. And for Defne, for some reason, felt cold ran down the spine. Saying to herself that she had always thought up what's not, she wanted to pass by and not interfere with the conversation, but Omer stopped her. With an imperious gesture, he grabbed her wrist and answered to Fikret coldly:
"No," she shook her head. "I was waiting for you ... both of you." Have you spoken to partners? What do they think?
- Fikret? Do you need an elevator? Hold up?
Defne stopped silently. Omer said through gritted teeth:
As soon as the door closed behind them, Omer silently grabbed Defne in his arms and carried her into the room. Putting her on the bed, he squatted down, took off her shoes, and easily ran his hands on her feet. Defne even closed her eyes in pleasure.
- Tired? - looking at her from the bottom up, he asked. Without a smile asked. Even his eyes did not smile or shine with his special, fiery light.
"Yeah," she nodded and grimaced plaintively. "My legs are very sore." And my back.
He got up to his feet and left the room. Defne heard the creak of the door to the bathroom and the sound of pouring water. A minute later, Omer returned and ordered:
- Undress. Let's take a bath and it will become easier.
He threw off his jacket and hung it in a closet. Defne did not object and forgot her modest self. She got out of bed and began to undress. They silently took off their clothes and only their eyes flared up with fire. When not a single piece of cloth remained on the perfect bodies, Omer again took his wife in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. He lowered her into the warm, bubbling foam water, and he, not at all embarrassed by his nakedness and obvious desire, lit the candles placed throughout the room, turned off the lamps, and went to the door.
- Where are you going? Asked Defne surprised.
"To the refrigerator," he answered. - For ice cream.
Omer returned, holding a glass cup filled with white, pink, and brown balls. He entered the water, sat opposite Defne, and took out a teaspoon inserted into one of the balls.
- What kind? - asked and Defne pointed to the chocolate.
Moving closer, he scooped ice cream into the spoon and brought it to her lips.
He fed her with concentration and in silence. His face remained gloomy, and only every time Defne wrapped her lips around the spoon did his lips twitch and the fire in his eyes flared up with renewed vigor. After chocolate, it was the turn of vanilla and the last strawberry. Defne was burning inside. This contrast of hot water and ice cream excited the blood. Tiny bubbles of foam tickled the skin. Candles flickered mysteriously and Omer's eyes sparkled violently, almost wildly, in the twilight. He set aside the empty cup and pulled Defne against himself. Without taking his eyes off her eyes, he put her to sit on his hips and finally broke the silence:
"I want my portion of ice cream," he said and imperiously covered her cold, sweet-smelling of strawberries lips. He pulled them into his mouth, made his way between them with his tongue, and meeting hers, frantically caressed it. He eagerly drank her purity. He reveled in her and declared with all his being - you are mine! And I am yours! Only yours. Until the end of my life, and even there, below the line, I will still be yours! I will love you and only you!!!
This time, tenderness faded into the background. Demandingness and assertion of their rights burst forward. A man and a woman clung to each other, kissing with hot mouths, squeezed bodies slippery from the foam, and groaned loudly whenever pleasure made another round of tightly stretched spiral inside. When it, hot and trembling, reached its highest point, a hurricane raging in the blood burst out hoarse cries and bodies bent in a sweet convulsion...
Defne fell onto Omer's chest and pressed her face to his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and leaning his head back on the rounded side of the bathtub, laughed hoarsely. He laughed so triumphantly and was so outrageously pleased that Defne wanted to hit him well. But there was only enough strength to pinch him on the side. Omer gasped but did not stop laughing.
"And what's so funny?" - raising her head offended she asked.
"I remembered what a sweet fury you were when you spoke about the harem of Sultan Selim," he answered frankly and, grabbing her thin wrists, brought the nimble hands behind his back. Having smacked her forehead over her angry sparkling eyes, he conciliatory asked: - Do not fight. I am telling the truth. You, even angry, are still cute and very beautiful. Most beloved. Mine.
Defne released her wrists and hugged his waist. Having returned her head to his chest, she pressed her ear to the place where his heartbeat rhythmically and admitted:
- Just thinking that all these girls were in my place and experienced the same pleasure as me a few minutes ago, I want to tear them to pieces.
His chest shook with pent-up laughter.
"My bloodthirsty lover," he purred. - Have mercy on them. All were not. Only two thirds.
- What?!
Defne rolled down from him and sat down. Her eyes sparkled with indignation and his laughter. He lay relaxed and satisfied. He smiled a maddening, teasing smile and reached for her body. She hit these sassy hands, but the proper effect did not work. Her palm flopped over the foam, gently entered the water and stroking instead of a blow.
- Two-thirds you say? She narrowed her eyes.
"Just kidding, of course," Defne breathed a sigh of relief. "Only half."
He was waiting for her reaction, and when Defne gasped with indignation, he again threw back his head and laughed.
- Is it funny to the Mister? She asked sarcastically and tried to get up. "You can laugh further, but without me."
Omer grabbed her by the waist and, with a swift movement, rolled over on his stomach, covered her with himself. His face became serious. Gently kissing hеr angrily pursed lips, he removed the wet hair adhering to her cheek and spoke in repentance:
- Sorry, my soul! You are so cute when jealous that I could not resist. Actually, it doesn't matter how many women I had in the past. There were no loved ones among them, and you are one hundred positions above them all.
Defne's anger melted and gave way to sadness. Nevertheless, she slipped out from under his body and sat in the other corner of the huge bath. She looked into his eyes and said:
"You are my first and you know that." Therefore, you do not understand my feelings. But imagine that I would have had men before you. And these men would appear in our present life. How would you react and what did you feel?
Omer's hair stood on end from such an assumption and icy goosebumps ran across his skin. Even hot water did not warm. The imagination of the artist immediately drew suitable pictures: Defne wriggles in the wrong hands ... goes crazy with bliss. His heart sank so that it began to hurt. But he honestly did what she asked. And introduced this imaginary man who appeared in their lives and is trying to return Defne.
What would he do?
Would beat him to death!
And then, like a Neanderthal man, he would throw Defne over his shoulder and drag her away. He would walk in circles and would not let any man to her anymore.
Omer looked at her. She did not take an attentive look from him. And, of course, she understood everything. After all, this is Defne. She alone can read him like an open book.
"I'm sorry," he asked repentantly. - I did not look at this situation from this perspective. But please. "He swam up to her and hugged her. He pressed his cheek to her temple and felt the icy goosebumps slowly leaving his body - believe me. I can't change the past. What was, was. But I can swear that my future belongs to you and only to you. "He turned her around and facing up, raised his left hand with the back of his hand. His wedding ring gleamed in the candlelight. Omer smiled boyishly and a little mockingly. - Until the end of our stay in Milan, I will walk like this. And all ex I will kill with a look.
Defne, holding back a laugh, rounded her eyes and whispered in mock horror:
- That's not all? Allah! I feel sorry for Sultan Selim.
Both laughed loudly and easily. Defne let go of the daytime situation and mentally showed her tongue to all former to Omer. Let them dream about him as much as they like and remember the past. All their dreams are in vain. He is hers and only hers!
They fell asleep, hugging closely in the middle of a huge bed.
***
In the morning, dressed in impeccably stylish business suits, Iplikci went down to breakfast. The four colleagues from Passionis-Tranba sat at a table by the window. Fikret had breakfast with them. The five of them were animatedly discussing something. Seeing the people who entered, Fikret paused in mid-sentence and fixed her eyes on Omer. He, barely noticeably pursing his lips, nodded in greeting, took Defne's arm, and directed her to another table. Pulling back the chair, he helped his wife to sit down, he sat down opposite, and with a click of his fingers called the waiter.
Fikret felt invisible. Again a bitter lump rolled up her throat. Why are fate and Allah so unfair to her? What sins she is punished with unrequited love? She looked down into the cup and realized with horror - her soul is now as dark and bitter as this coffee.
Neither Omer nor Defne had any idea what thoughts roam in Fikret's head. They enjoyed a cornetto with chocolate and a great lungo. Defne added cream and sugar to her cup. Having tried, she closed her eyes and smiled a blissful smile. How delicious! More flavored than Turkish coffee and softer than Omer's favorite espresso. She opened her eyes and looked at her husband.
"Omer, I'll ask you something."
"Ask," he plucked off a piece of cornetto and sent it into his mouth. - Where did you addicted to espresso? Here in Milan, everyone drinks lungo...
Omer froze for a moment. Sadness slipped into his eyes. But then he pulled himself together and calmly answered:
- I tried in Rome. It's bitterness beat the one that lived in me ... and so I addicted.
Defne ached in her chest. She distinctly saw a proud young man, inside of whom there was an ocean of longing and pain. Maybe all those girls were, like strong coffee, an attempt to forget himself and not feel lonely?
Tears came to her eyes. She brushed them off with a napkin. But they, not yielding to logic and persuasion, flowed and flowed from the eyes. Omer, frightened by her tears, bowed his head and looked into her beloved face.
- My soul, are you crying? So many years have passed. Everything is fine now. I'm happy. Even the addiction to espresso was cured. "He nodded to his lungo and smiled."
- I am not crying for the present, but a lonely young man in a foreign country and a foreign city." With bitter coffee cured bitterness in the heart.
Defne blotted her eyes again with a napkin. Omer covered her hand with his and asked:
"Then it's better not to cry, but rejoice." Because it was you who cured me and delivered me from bitterness. You made me happy. But when you cry, I lose my mind and feel like an incapable idiot.
She smiled through her tears.
- Don't say it! An idiot. This word and Omer Iplikci are two absolute opposites.
Omer smiled at such a compliment and nodded at the plate with the half-eaten cornetto:
- Eat your breakfast faster and we go to the Gallery. Half an hour later I have the first meeting with the very Frenchman who yesterday admired your hair.
"I hope that by the end of the meeting his perfect teeth will remain intact?" - mockingly asked Defne.
"We'll see," Omer winked slyly.
Defne was eating breakfast, and the thought revolved in her head: was she crazy about crying in a crowded place? In addition, she was never whiny and always knew how to restrain tears.
What happened now? Not at all clear.
***
The Gallery was again crowded and noisy. Omer, holding Defne by the elbow, deftly maneuvered in the crowd and confidently led her to the exhibition hall. Both were in a hurry and did not look around at all. Therefore, when Omer was called out in the crowd, both frowned. The voice was female and Defne, thinking it was another ex-girlfriend, rolled her eyes. She expected that Omer would do the same, but when he looked around, he unexpectedly shone a warm smile and extended his hand to the woman hurrying toward them.
- Hello, Laura! He greeted and squeezed in his swarthy hand.
The black eyes of the young woman shone with joy.