"Countess Cesare?" - surprised Deniz.
- Laura? - exclaimed no less in surprise Sinan.
Koray narrowed his eyes suspiciously and stared at the stranger with unblinking eyes.
- Who is she? - in one voice they quietly asked Defne Iz and Seda, but she just smiled and went to the girl dressed in an expensive black dress. She took her hand, squeezed encouragingly, and turned to the intrigued friends:
- I present to you the creative director of Sapphire Laura Cesare. Please love and respect.
The whole company spoke at the same time:
- What a surprise!
- Creative director? And you?
- What new firm? - exclaimed Koray. - Guys, what I do not know?
But no one paid attention to him. Everyone looked at Defne and waited for her answer.
"And I will do what I love most - to draw," she said joyfully.
Omer smiled slyly and raised an eyebrow. His whole appearance said: "Exactly? Do you like painting most of all? "
Defne's cheeks flashed with a crimson blush. She looked at her husband with a look not to embarrass her, but he only bit his lower lip, fixed his eyes on her lips, and his smile turned into a devilishly seductive one. Begging the butterflies in her stomach to calm down and lay down their wings, Defne turned away from Omer to lively talking colleagues and friends. Koray, with his head, pulled into his shoulders, circled a real Italian countess. Tranba asked her about her husband and was surprised that he had so long passed into the category of ex.
"Strange, I saw him last spring in Madrid, and he did not say a word about the divorce." When asked about you, he answered that you are in order and are engaged in a family business.
"More precisely, I was trying to keep her afloat," Laura said ironically.
- Did not work out? Sinan asked.
"No," she smiled sadly. - When two corporations, Rastrelli and Cesare, took as their goal the destruction of a small company and there was no help at all, but only sticks in the wheels ... But that doesn't matter.
It's just embarrassing for my mom. It was her inheritance... memory of her.
"She will understand," Defne lightly touched Laura's arm.
- The memory that will always be with you in the heart.
"You're right," she smiled gratefully and looked with interest at Iz and Seda. And of course, to the strange, pompously dressed man or a big child. Defne corrected the mistake and introduced the girls to each other. She didn't forget about Koray, and he proudly threw up his head demonstrating himself as the one and only. Seda warmly welcomed this acquaintance, and Iz was alert. The interest with which her newfound groom looked at the new acquaintance touched her and did not like this at all. And he, the insolent, did not even hide it. Carelessly held his bride by the elbow, and he gazed steadily at the Italian girl.
"Although I am also a shareholder of Sapphire, I'll try to convince you." In Tranba, the vacancy of a creative director is also free. A large company firmly on its feet, a good salary. Can you change your mind? After all, you once made a tasty and popular candy from a conservative chain of Cesare stores.
- No, Deniz! - firmly answered Laura. "I no longer want to relate to shoes and clothes." This door is completely closed. I'm interested in jewelry. And I was always interested. This is what I studied and what I want to do in life.
"Okay, I give up." Tranba raised his hands. - I'm also interested in the success of Sapphire. Therefore, I am glad of such an acquisition. Welcome!
- What kind of sapphire?! Cried Koray and Omer had to stop him with а stern look.
- Koray, not now. This is not the place or the time to talk about it. Tomorrow Sinan will tell you everything.
Koray pouted his lips resentfully but did not dare to object.
"Thank you," after waiting for the strange man to calm down, Laura answered to Tranba. She gracefully bowed her head with dignity and, taking Defne's arm, went with her to the window.
Deniz wanted to hug Iz again by the waist but received a nudge on the side. She looked at him warningly and walked away. Taking a glass of champagne from a tray, she measured her groom with a defiant look and took a long sip.
"Damn it! Deniz thought with a mixture of admiration and anger. "She also said that once a century she's going over alcohol." But today he needs Iz, not her unconscious body. He resolutely approached her, took the champagne, drank it in one gulp, and, returning the glass to the tray, pulled her by the hand. He led her out onto the balcony, pressed her back against the high, marble railing and, hanging over her entire body, demanded an answer:
- Why are you enraged?
- Get mad? She hissed like an angry cat. - What else was missing! It would be because of whom! She jerked, trying to free herself from the firm grip of his hands. - Let me go! Go ahead and make eyes to an old acquaintance.
- What eyes? What friend? Iz, are you crazy? - he shook her shoulders.
"He still asks which one?" The beautiful divorced Countess Laura! Just think - offers her the position of creative director in his company! To her, not to his bride!
- What? - always confident, arrogant Tranba froze with a stupidly open mouth and bulging eyes.
"What you heard," barked Iz.
Deniz shook his head and looked incredulously at the fury that his bride had turned into.
"Do you want to work at Trаnba?" And leave your precious Omer and his Passionis?
- Yes! I want! And you, a donkey thinking slow, didn't even think about calling me to your place. Let me in! She twitched again, but in vain.
Deniz looked at her in silent amazement, and then his face began to change. Lips stretched into a smile, which became wider and grew into a triumphant laugh. He grabbed her above the knees and swirled around the wide balcony.
- Crazy girl! Adore you. - He put her on her feet and pulled to the door. - Let's go let Passionis know that you are leaving them.
- So you agree? - Iz's anger transformed into confusion.
He stopped and clasped her bare shoulders.
- Do you ask? I did not even dare to dream of such a thing.
- That's in vain! She said whimsically and cringed. - Let's go inside. I'm cold.
"I didn't know that you knew Deniz and Sinan," Defne said to Laura.
She wanted to drink, and not just anything, but something sour, and she looked out for waiters offering drinks to the guests.
- With Sinan, we are familiar since the student years. He came to Milan to visit Omer. And Deniz and my ex-husband worked together four years ago, meanwhile, Laura answered.
- Yes, how small the world is.
- No need to say.
The girls exchanged knowing smiles.
"Will you help me understand the intricacies of the artistic valuation of jewelry?" - asked Defne.
- What's a question? With great pleasure. Will you introduce me to your grandmother? I want to learn how to cook Turkish dishes, and you said that she is an unsurpassed cook.
- Best one! - Omer came. He handed Defne a glass of sour orange juice and as if by chance, ran the back of his hand over her bare hand - not frozen. - Her dolma and rice-pudding is a work of culinary art.
"Grandma will be very glad," Responding to Laura Defne, she managed to send her husband a grateful smile. How did he guess that she wanted sour juice? "But be prepared that all the neighbors will come running to look at the real Italian countess."
"And how will they know?" Laura laughed.
- Ah, how funny you are! Such a guest will come to the house of aunt Türkan, and she will take cooking lessons from her, but she would not boast to her neighbors? Yes, this simply can not be! After all, this visit will raise her regional status to unprecedented heights," Defne explained cheerfully.
- Then let them come! - just as cheerfully agreed to Laura. - If it will please your grandmother, I will be glad!
Smiling Omer watched the girls. One grew up in the palace, the other - in the neighborhood of Istanbul. One studied art at the best Academy of Europe, the other - absorbing it, like a sponge, from the outside world. But there was something in common with both girls - the sincerity and kindness with which they looked at the world. With their stunning beauty, there is a complete lack of arrogance. Compassion for someone else's grief and a passionate determination to help, even if they will suffer. They were one of those women in the world that are unique, and their love was God's gift to the chosen lucky man. And he Omer, was so lucky. A man who was loved by a special, priceless woman. Angel. He will, until the last breath, perceive her love as the miracle and mercy of heaven.
Defne brought a glass of juice to her lips and took a sip. Her eyes closed with pleasure. Omer felt his chest fill with heat. His golden girl. There is nothing better than giving her joy and making her happy. There is no greater happiness than to love her.
Fikret watched Omer from the side. His look at his wife burned her insides with fire. How she envied her and wanted to be in her place. For Omer to look at her with love and tenderness, touching her, idolizing her. Is she asking so much? Why should his love belong to Defne and not to her Fikret? After all, she met him first. First loved him. And his wife was different. This is unfair!
She saw Tranba approach the three. He held Iz's hand and smiled a triumphant smile. Sinan and Seda followed. Tranba announced something, and the leaders of Passionis looked at each other, puzzled, and the girls shone with joyful smiles. Then the orchestra played a gentle melody and Countess Cesare was invited by an impressive man to dance. Tranba led away Iz, and Sinan Seda. Defne was invited by a gallant Frenchman and Omer was left alone. He stood with his shoulders straight and frowned at the dancing couple. And Fikret decided. Putting a half-empty glass on the tray, she went up to him and politely touched his shoulder. He flinched and turned to her.
Why did his eyes flare up not with joy but with irritation? Why? Is she a freak or a leper?
Damn Frenchman who admired Defne's hair so much, invited her to dance! Omer had difficulty controlling his anger. While he was digesting the news of Iz leaving for the company of Tramba, his wife was taken away directly from under his nose and he only had to watch, be angry, and jealous. Damn it! Another man is now touching Defne's supple back and enjoying her warmth and tenderness. The desire to decorate the face of this impudent man was simply irresistible. And he does not care that he will look like savage in this luxurious room.
The touch on his shoulder was as unexpected as unpleasant. He flinched and turned around. Behind him stood Fikret. Her smile could be spread on bread instead of marmalade. And Omer hated marmalade.
- Will you allow me to invite you to dance? She asked, and Omer gritted his teeth involuntarily. Seeing such a reaction, Fikret mockingly twisted her mouth. - This is just an ordinary dance with an old friend. I won't eat you.
Omer hesitated. To refuse a girl an invitation to dance was the height of indecency and bad manners. Realizing this, he sighed heavily and gave her a hand.
Fikret melted with happiness and at the same time choked with bitterness. Omer, touching her only with his fingertips, slowly stamped in place and did not take his eyes off Defne. And also, from time to time, he looked at the musicians, as if asking:
"And how long will you play this tune? Round off!"
Wounded, in such an attitude, she deliberately touched his neck with her fingers just above the solid collar of his white shirt. Omer jerked and removed her hand, moving it onto his shoulder. His voice, when he spoke, looked like a spiky January snow beating in her face, which she did not like so much in winter New York.
"Fikret, I hope you remember our conversation at the horse farm?"
The heart in the chest contracted painfully. A spasm in her throat made it difficult to speak, and she nodded silently.
- So, since then nothing has changed except that my feelings for Defne have become even stronger and she is now my wife. Beloved and precious. Do you understand?
Once upon a time, he also refused her but spoke with compassion and sympathy. And today was as cold as an ice shower. And in the same way, sobering her thoughts and dreams.
- Therefore, do not impose your friendship on me. I am grateful to you for the past, but after your trick with the letter and the suffering inflicted on Defne, we cannot even be friends. I beg you - stay away from me and from my wife.
Together with his words, the music ended. He stepped back, bowed briefly, and hurried to her. To his Defne. The new melody cut through Fikret's ear, but not Omer. He hugged his wife and led her into a dance. Almost to the point of decency, stroking her back and whispering something in her ear. And she laughed and looked at him with happy eyes.
Something cracked inside Fikret, and darkness, like poisonous smoke, filled the chest and replaced the remnants of light and heat.
Defne danced with him again, with her Omer. Again, in his hands, she turned into a weightless fluff, which was either wind or warm breathing spinning to the music. He whispered in her ear how bored and jealous he was, and she laughed and replied that the gods should not be jealous. That's why he is her God, to be the only one. Her words destroyed the jealousy and irritation that had recently possessed him, and they disappeared without a trace, leaving in his heart only the tenderness and ardent desire to love and protect the Angel.
But the sharks of the business did not doze. Although the business reception was saturated with romance, it remained business. As soon as the melody ended, an Arab tycoon took Omer for a serious conversation. Defne was left alone. With a light walk of a self-confident woman, she went to the window. The gray-blue silk of the dress flowed and circled at her feet. Defne stroked it with a palm and smiled. During these few days, she wore as many beautiful dresses as she did not have to wear in her whole life.
- And you are brave!
Defne would recognize that voice from a thousand.
Turning slowly, she looked directly into Fikret's eyes and asked:
"And what is my courage?"
"The choice of dress," she mockingly examined Defne from head to toe. - Nobody told you that women usually wear black dresses for business receptions at this level. In extreme cases, gray or beige. Bright colors - a bad tone and gives out an unsophisticated woman. You are the wife of Omer Iplikci and you should not dishonor your husband with a lack of taste and plebeian manners.
Defne's chest went cold. She noticed that almost all the women in the room were dressed in black, but did not attach any importance to this. After all, she loved her angelic dress so much. But it turns out - having dressed it, she dishonored Omer and made him a target for ridicule. But why didn't he say anything to her?
- Conventions - it's so boring!
Defne turned to the voice. Laura stood a step away from her and looked at Fikret ironically. Her smile was not arrogant, but there was something so elusively disparaging that Galo cringed inwardly and crossed her arms over her chest.
"By the way," the countess lifted an eyebrow and nodded at Fikret's pose, "you have just rudely violated etiquette." Crossing in a public place the arms on the chest for a woman is a bad tone and a sign of poor manners.
Fikret Galo dropped her hands sharply and blushed. Thoughts mixed in her head, and she only silently gasped for air. Without waiting for an answer, Laura continued:
- Defne's dress is an amazing, noble shade. It fits perfectly into the local atmosphere and revitalizes it. Moreover, it suits her very much. That can not be said about yours. Strangely, a world-famous fashion designer put on a dress that makes her figure look like an ebonite stick. I think I'm not the only one today who doubted your exceptional taste and design talent.
The crimson redness on Fikret's face gave way to dead pallor. She spun around and, measuring the sparkling, mosaic parquet with wide strides, headed for the exit.
"How well you said it," Defne breathed admiringly.
"Deserved," Laura answered firmly. "She wanted to humiliate you and put doubts in your soul and your strength." This is dishonorable, mean, and testifies that this woman hates you and wants to do evil. I have met hundreds in my life and I see through them all their vile intrigues. Be careful with her. Do not believe a single word and do not be afraid to put her in her place. Remember that you are unique and she is not suitable for you, she is beneath your level.
Defne listened to her with her mouth open with amazement and then asked:
"Are you an angel sent to me by heaven?"
"I think of you the same way," Laura laughed and called Defne with her: "Let's go celebrate with champagne our victory over the evil witch." And you will tell me in detail about both of your meetings with Ahtem.
- What exactly do you want to hear?
- All! Every little thing that you remember.
The girls went to the far end of the hall. There were velvet upholstered sofas and low tables where you could sit down and talk quietly.
Omer, who noticed Fikret already near Defne, was about to apologize to the Arab tycoon to rush to her aid, calmed down, and switched back to business conversation.
And Fikret, not seeing anything in front of her, ran down the old stairs. The subtle irony of Italian woman's words burned the brain with fire. She is the talented Fikret Galo! All America admires her fashion models, and damned Italy again questions her talent and taste. The first time this was done by Vanni to the whole world accusing her of plagiarism, and now - a sophisticated countess whose opinion all these high-born snobs are listening. But the plebeian from the neighborhood was greeted with open arms and was admired for her beauty and grace. Fikret ran out into the street and ran on the paving slabs into the depths of the night park. She stopped only when the chain of old lamps ended and the darkness became impenetrable. Raising her head to the inky sky, she screamed in fury:
- I hate her!!!!
***
The Iplikci took the lift up to their floor. The time was past midnight, Defne was tired and wanted to sleep. Leaning against Omer, she put her head back against his chest and closed her eyes.
- Tired? he asked softly, and she nodded. Then she smiled and answered:
"But happy." It was a wonderful evening.
The elevator stopped on their floor. Omer grabbed her in his arms and carried her down the hall to the door.
"Hold me by the neck," he asked, and holding her with one hand, the other took a magnetic key from his jacket pocket and put it to the electronic lock. Door opened. Omer brought his precious burden into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. She sighed in relief and whispered:
"How good ..."
"It will be even better now," Omer promised. He sat next to her and pulled a gray-blue shoe from her leg.
"Ah, how right you are," Defne twisted in the air, first one foot, and then the second, freed from the high heels. - Stilettos are beautiful, but convenient only in one case - when you are carried on his hands.
- What is the problem? I am always in favor, and my hands too," Omer smiled and leaned over her.
Defne stroked his hair, ran her fingers over the bristles on his cheek, and spoke quietly:
"You are the perfect husband." Do you know about this?
"I just love you," he answered and lightly kissed the softly contoured lips.
"And I love you," Defne answered. - More than life.
They looked into each other's eyes and there was so much tenderness in their eyes, so much love that both hearts melted and filled with sparkling light.
- Do you want ice cream? Asked Omer.
- Yes. Do we have?
- I'll see now.
Omer went to that part of the apartment where a small kitchen was arranged. He pressed a button on the coffee machine and, while his favorite espresso was preparing, he took out a bucket of chocolate ice cream from the freezer. He put some in a tall glass, stuck a teaspoon, and at that moment he heard a quiet signal that the coffee was ready. Omer leaned against the kitchen counter and took a sip of coffee. The chaotic thoughts came to order and stacked in even rows on the shelves in his head. Today was a fruitful day for Passionis and the new firm too. Only Defne does not know about it. But he will not say yet. Let there be a surprise.
Only one memory spoiled the day. Fikret and the pale face of Defne. What did she say to her that upset his wife? Now, for ice cream, he will carefully question her. Setting the cup aside, Omer, grabbing the ice cream, went into the bedroom.
"Love..." he interrupted in mid-sentence.
Defne was sleeping. Having scattered red hair on the pillow and clasped her hands on her stomach, she quietly breathed and smiled in a dream. He smiled too. He put the glass with ice cream on the bedside table and carefully began to undress her. Having unfastened a tiny button on her neck, and on her side a zipper, he pulled the dress over her legs and took off her underwear. After admiring the skin shining in the darkness and the dark tops of her chest, he pulled out his T-shirt from the closet and, raising Defne's head, pulled it on to her graceful body. She tossed and turned, muttered something incomprehensible, but did not wake up. She rolled over on her side, put her hands clasped together under her cheek, and curled up. Omer kissed her warm cheek and, trying not to pay attention to a certain part of his body dissatisfied with this situation, went to change clothes.
In the middle of the night, Omer was awakened by the clinking of a spoon on the glass. Opening one eye, he saw in the shaky light of the moon Defne sitting on the bed.
- Darling, what are you doing? - rubbing his eyes he asked hoarsely.
"Eating ice cream," came a quiet reply.
"It has melted," he sat on the bed, too. Chasing away the remnants of sleep, he shook his head and pulled a half-empty glass from her hands.
"It's tasty anyway," she sighed but gave back the melted ice cream.
"I'll bring another one now." There is still in the freezer.
Omer lit a lamp, got out of bed, went barefooted to the refrigerator, and soon returned with a full glass of ice cream. He sat on the bed and handed Defne a teaspoon.
- Eat!
- Thanks!
Defne put a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and brought the second to Omer's lips. He did not refuse. And when the glass was almost empty, he realized that eating ice cream in the middle of the night is cool.
"Beloved," he called Defne. She looked up at him. He took the glass from her hands and set it aside. Then he took her hands and asked:
"I saw you talking at the reception with Fikret." Did she upset you with something? Said something offensive?
"She criticized my dress," Defne grinned wryly. - She said that its color is not suitable for a business reception and is shameful for me not knowing such basic things, to dishonor this worthy husband.
- What a fool! Omer got angry. "You looked amazing." Elegant and sophisticated. The most beautiful woman in the hall, which all men without exception watched with admiration. I was even a little jealous. And then I imagined how they all envy me and sobered up.
"Liar," Defne smiled and gently stroked his cheek.
"Not a bit," he answered and, catching her palm, pressed it to his face. - Each of my words is pure truth.
"I was also jealous," Defne admitted after a short pause. - When you danced with Fikret.
- Publicly to refuse a woman an invitation to dance is a lot of rudeness and insult. I could not do this, "Omer explained.
- I know. But it was still unpleasant. What were you talking about? She had such a face as if she had eaten an unripe plum.
"I told her that after her trick with the letter, we cannot even be friends with her and that she must stay away from me and from you."
Defne shook her head thoughtfully and grunted.
- Hm! Then her desire to hurt me and humiliate me is understandable. Thanks to Laura, put her in her place, - Defne retold the words of her new friend.
"She was always fair and didn't spare words," Omer remarked gratefully. "She stayed like that."
"Will we help them make peace with Ahtem?" Asked Defne.
Omer sighed. He wholeheartedly wanted to help his friend build happiness. But at the same time, he understood that all efforts could be in vain if Ahtem's heart is completely frozen. And so he answered honestly:
- We will do everything in our power, but they will make the decision themselves.
"They will take right," Defne said confidently.
Omer smiled, lay down on the bed, and pulled Defne to him. He covered both of them with a blanket and, gently pressing her to him, whispered in her sweet-smelling hair:
- My golden girl. Of course, they will. It can not be any other way. And let's go to sleep. The middle of the night. A long day awaits us tomorrow.
"Come on," Defne agreed and buried her nose in the satin skin of his chest.
***
Near the hotel, several colorful piles of suitcases stood. The Turkish delegation flew home. Men and women dressed in comfortable traveling clothes stood in a tight circle and, waiting for a taxi, spoke quietly.
"Derya knows everything," said Omer to Sinan. - But, if there is an urgent need - call.
"Relax and don't think about anything," the partner answered him. - Passionis can handle it. And you, "he leaned over to Omer's ear and lowered his voice," take time for your wife and eat honey to the full, "he winked pointedly, and Omer laughed.
Defne, who did not hear this phrase, looked at both of them in surprise, but an innocent expression was already shining on the male faces. Squinting suspiciously, she threatened them with her finger and ordered them to be serious.
That was something Omer had no intention of doing - to remain serious. The anticipation was seething in his blood, the imagination painted colorful and sweet pictures, and the soul was eager to get out of the city and plunge into another world and other sensations. And to realize all his dreams. Yes, so that pleasures knew no bounds, and happiness and joy flow like a fountain.
Fikret approached the company. Her greeting was not very enthusiastic. They answered her rather languidly and coolly.
The first taxi pulled up. The porter put the things of Iz and Tranba into it. They said goodbye to Omer and Defne, wished them a happy honeymoon, and left for the airport.
"You are not flying to Istanbul?" - Fikret asked Omer in surprise.
"No," he answered coldly.
- But what about the charity show?
A strong gust of wind flew and Omer, protecting from the cold, covered Defne with himself. And only then answered to Fikret:
- The team is working on the show. Defne and I did our part. If you wish to participate further, Derya will provide you with sketches of shoes. Mine and Defne models. Take them and work on clothes.
"We used to work together," Fikret recalled in a hollow voice.
"That was before," Omer retorted mercilessly. - Now it will not be so. If you want to participate, take sketches and work, if you don't want to, we will pick up another designer of clothes. There are enough who want it.
"But they are not Fikret Galo," she remarked arrogantly.
"You're right," Omer agreed. "That's why you have a green light." Therefore, you decide. And faster. Time is running out.
"Good," Fikret looked at Defne, and she instinctively wanted to cover her stomach with her hands — her look was so angry and full of hatred. - I wish you a good vacation.
"Honeymoon, Fikret," Omer corrected her, and, looking at the road, turned to Defne: "And here is the car we rented." Aren't you cold?
He carefully lifted her collar and straightened her scarf.
She shook her head and smiled affectionately.
When the car stopped and the driver gave Omer the keys, Defne said goodbye to Seda and Sinan and went to the car door. Opening it, she turned to Fikret and said:
- I also wish you a happy flight and easy work. I sincerely wish, Fikret.
Sitting in the car, she carefully closed the door behind her. Omer took the driver's seat and the car, gaining speed, rolled along the road and soon disappeared. Fikret silently went to the taxi that had arrived. Inside her, anger and furious rage bubbled.
"Maybe you shouldn't have left New York?" - timidly asked the inner voice.
"Shut up!!!" she barked at it.
Seda thoughtfully looked into the trail of the taxi taking Fikret and turned to Sinan.
"I don't like her." There is something dark and evil in her.
"But she is a world celebrity," Sinan said with a sigh. - Nobody forces us to be friends with her or to love her. Only work.
"Tell her that," Seda advised. - She just aimed at friendship and love.
- Ay, love, do not exaggerate! And in general, we have nothing to do but discuss Fikret Galo? Let's forget about her and enjoy our last day in Milan.
"Come on," Seda said thoughtfully, but the hateful gaze of watery blue eyes directed at Defne gave her no rest.
***
The gray ribbon of the road circled between the mountains dressed in the crimson-yellow clothes. Their beauty caught the breath of Defne and she froze, examining the steep, forested slopes and the bright blue sky hanging over them.
- Where are we going? She asked of Omer focused on the road.
- To Lake Como. There, on its shore, there is a completely wonderful town. In the summer it is crowded with tourists and therefore it is noisy and hectic, and now it is quiet and stunningly beautiful. I rented a house near the lake. The photos are cool, let's see what happens in reality.
The reality was even more stunning than the photos. Indeed, not a single photograph can convey the crystal clear air, the bitter aroma of late autumn flowers, and the roughness of the stone walls of the house, as if descended from the pages of Italian fairy tales. It stood at the very foot of the mountain. Tightly clinging to it with the back wall, it looked with wide-open eyes of the windows at the sparkling waters of the lake. A small courtyard bloomed with purple asters, white chrysanthemums, and orange-chocolate marigolds. Near the water stood a gazebo twined with ivy and wild grapes. A long pier with dark boards polished by the wind spread over the water and ended with a square platform to which a boat was moored.
- Are we in a fairy tale? Asked Defne admiringly.
"The real one," Omer put the suitcases at the threshold and hugged her from the back.
Defne folded her hands on top of his and together they admired the crimson leaves reflected in the water from trees growing on the banks.
- Our fairy tale is good? Her voice sounded like a quiet bell.
Omer turned her to face him and, looking into the radiant amber eyes, seriously answered:
"It will be what we want." I won't let anyone stand between us or offend you.
"I know," Defne smiled trustingly and kissed the corner of his lips. And then she squinted plaintively. - Let's bring things inside and look for where to have dinner. I am very hungry.
"Come on," Omer let go of her and unlocked the door.
While he was carrying the luggage, Defne examined the house. From the inside, it was as fabulous as from the outside. Antique wooden furniture, a fireplace made of polished stone, sheepskins on wooden floorboards, and a cozy kitchen corner where the coffee machine and refrigerator seemed foreign elements. Like a thin plasma TV on a blank wall combined with a living room.
-Do you like it? Asked Omer. He stood at the top of the stairs and smiled with his irresistible smile.
- Very much! - Defne rose to him and allowed to take her hand.
"Let's go see the bedroom," he pulled her into a small, square corridor and opened the first door.
Defne went inside and gasped. In the middle of the sloping ceiling, a huge window gaped with cleanly washed glass. And right below it is a large bed with wrought iron, metal bars, and a high soft mattress.
- Allah! Will we sleep under the stars? She asked admiringly.
"After all, you love them so much," Omer smiled gently. - If the sky will be favorable to us and not covered with clouds, we will lie and admire the stars.
- And I thought - to fly up to them, - Defne cunningly turned her eyes and bit her lower lip.
- And we can fly without descending to the ground? - Omer's voice turned into soft velvet and enveloped her consciousness.
His eyes lit up with fire. He walked close to her and pulled her by the waist. Defne deflected a little to see his beloved face, looked into burning black eyes, and disappeared. His eyes fascinated and deprived of her will. Subordinated her to his desire and promised paradise. Inside, at the very bottom of her chest, trembling was born and spread throughout the body.
And then her stomach quite inappropriately responded with a hungry rumbling. Omer seemed to wake up. He shook his head and exclaimed:
"You want to eat!" Let's go soon. "He pulled her hand toward the exit.
- There is a restaurant nearby, which has three Michelin stars. We will check if they were not given them in vain.
- And what are these Michelin stars? - Defne asked in a hurry after her husband.
"This is a high award in the restaurant sector," he explained as he went. - For the visitor, it means that the cuisine and service in the restaurant are on top. One star is cool, and two are just kosmos. In Mistral, where we are going, they prepare molecular cuisine. The combination of products is unusual, but the result is simply beyond praise.
- Wow! Let's check it, "Defne agreed enthusiastically.
But the enthusiasm subsided as they crossed the threshold of a luxurious restaurant. Behind a glass wall, cooks in snow-white tunics and caps conjured over plates, from which smoke or frosty steam flowed down in thick puffs on the floor. This spectacle seemed to Defne rather ominous than beautiful, and she looked away, which immediately buried herself in the tray of a passing waiter. On it, on a white plate, in a muddy green liquid, two yellow balls floated, sprinkled with oily black ball grains. Defne's face took on the shade of this same slurry. Nausea in a wave rolled up to her throat, and she scooted out into the street. The frightened husband hurried after her. Defne stood near the stone railing of the street terrace and eagerly swallowed the fresh lake air.
- Beloved, what's wrong with you? - Omer asked in alarm and touched her forehead. It was cold and wet.
- I do not know. Nothing ... I guess. It's just that this molecular cuisine is not for me, "Defne grimaced plaintively and asked:" Is there anything more traditional here? " For example, grilled fish with tomatoes and rice?
Omer kissed her forehead and exhaled in relief.
- How you scared me! Of course, have. The freshest and most delicious.
He took Defne's hand and led her along the promenade to an old castle standing by the very water. Rounding it, they found themselves in a narrow street. The house Omer stopped near seemed completely unremarkable. Its walls were densely entwined with ivy, and Defne saw a wooden plate hanging on blackened chains with the name of the restaurant only when they approached the door itself. Inside, they met the owner. Smiling joyfully, he greeted the guests and led them to a reed-covered terrace. She was small and comfortable. With stunning lake views and snow-white tablecloths on square tables. The food was also simple and tasty. The fish is fresh, the rice is friable and melting in the mouth, the tomatoes are sweet and the cheese is fragrant.
"Is that what you wanted?" - asked Omer when the satiated Defne put aside her empty plate.
"Yes," she answered shortly and looked away.
- What? - taking her chin, he turned her face to him and looked into her eyes. "Didn't you like the food?"
- Why do you think so? Everything is very delicious. Just the way I love ...
- Defne! - interrupted the flow of words Omer. - What happened?
Tears sparkled in her eyes. She brushed them off with two fingers and spoke:
"I don't suit you," Omer's eyes went wide. "You are so aristocratic and sophisticated." And your tastes are the same. But I am ordinary and I love simple things. You will soon become bored with me, and you will want someone exquisite next to you ...
- Shhh! He pressed a finger to her lips. "What stupid thoughts?" Defne! Do not offend me with them, and do not belittle yourself. Is sophistication to loving molecular cuisine? But this is such nonsense! Sophistication is the light that you radiate. From which it is warm and bright. Besides, I also love simple things, and you know this like no other.
"I know," Defne agreed and smiled through her tears.
"Then why are you crying?"
He reached out across the table and wiped the tear in the corner of her eye with his thumb.
"I don't know," she sniffed. - Probably, I'm afraid that you will stop loving me...
- Defne, I will be angry! - strictly warned Omer.
- Good, I'm silent.
Her eyes were again filled with tears and Omer could not stand it. He called the waiter, paid for dinner, and, taking Defne's hand, led her out of the restaurant. Lanterns had already lit on the street and their yellow light cut through the darkness illuminating the roads and sidewalks. Omer walked so fast that Defne barely kept up with him.
- Where are you running? she asked.
"There, where I can show you how stupid your thoughts are." And how much I love you. If you do not believe the words, then you may believe something else," he answered angrily.
"Something else proves passion, not love," Defne remarked sarcastically.
"We'll see," Omer answered with clenched teeth.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Omer threw off his jacket and turned to Defne. An impenetrable expression froze on his face and only his eyes burned with dark fire. He pulled the belt of her coat and untied it. One after the other, he unfastened the buttons and with a sharp movement pulled it off her hands. Grabbing her at the waist and stepping so swiftly that Defne barely had time to sort out with her legs, he led her to the wall and pressed her to it with his whole body. He made his way under the dress with his hands and stroking with his palms her delicate body pressed his lips to her neck. He kissed the sweet-smelling skin and his tongue caught a frantically beating pulse. Defne threw back her head and this gesture became a signal. Omer went crazy. His hands in a fever frantically imprinted on Defne, tore off her clothes, took ... demanded ... caressed ... idolized...
Kissing and burning with impatience, they got to bed and fell into its cool embrace...
And from heaven, distant stars looked at them. Mysterious and alluring. At the moment when desire reached its climax, Defne opened her eyes and saw their flickering light. And she realized - the passion that makes you rise to the stars is a declaration of love. The moment when the man opens his heart and says without words - nothing is needed without you. You are my soul, my life, my world.
"My Angel," Omer whispered hoarsely, and her heart was filled with golden light.
***
Letting go of the taxi Fikret went to the house. The one who left many years ago and vowed never to return to it. Here she was unhappy and unloved. Running away, she thought that there, in a vast world, everything will change. There will be a man who will love her and warm her heart. Eleven years later, she traveled the whole world, but nothing has changed. She is still lonely and unloved. And this is not the fault of the old house. The people are to blame. Omer, who did not like her. And Defne ... From the mention of the hated name, it darkened in her eyes. Gritting her teeth, she opened the door and entered the spacious hall. From memory, she found the switch and lit the light.
From a far corner, slanting green eyes looked at her.
"Are you still alive?" She asked in a hoarse bitterness and surprise.
- Waiting for me? Well, here I am.