Omer was confused for a moment. He did not expect to see a stranger in his office. But then he remembered that the girl was his new assistant and could enter the office in his absence. This circumstance made him angry with himself. He completely lost his mind and forgot about self-control. And he also considered himself a person who knows how to hide his feelings well. Straightening up and assuming a strict look, he greeted coldly:
- Good morning, Laila!
- Good morning, Mr. Omer! - She answered with a hoarse voice.
- Today you have a meeting with the designers, and I decided to prepare everything necessary for it.
She moved away from the table and with a slow movement of her hand brushed her hair behind her back. Omer walked by. Stopping by his chair, he nodded toward the door.
- You are free now. I'll handle the meeting myself.
- What about your schedule? And morning coffee? - Laila did not budge. She looked intently and fiddled with a button on her chest.
"Send the schedule by e-mail," Omer ordered, sitting down at the table and looking down at the folder with the documents. - Bring coffee in twenty minutes. And also, go down to the cafe and get me some toast and cheese. I didn't have time for breakfast today, - he said the last words mechanically. All his attention had already been given to work.
Laila pursed her lips. Anger flashed in slanting eyes and disappeared.
"Okay, Mr. Omer," she said and headed for the door.
- Wait, - called the boss and she, delighted by his call, looked around. He nodded at the glass partition between the offices.
- Close the blinds, - ordered and bent over the documents.
She complied with the order and disappeared. Omer breathed out a sigh of relief, left the table, and opened the window. This sugary perfume choked him and got on his nerves. Something was disturbing in this smell and to the girl herself, like a dope. He shook his head and berated himself for his prejudice. In forty minutes a meeting with the design department. He needs to do the preparation, and not dwell on unreasonable anxiety.
The meeting dragged on. Mostly because of Koray, who came to also and his endless chatter interfered with the work process. In his usual manner, he criticized Zeyneb's drawings, praised only himself, and hissed at the new assistant:
- And-and-and, ugly! Why dyed her hair red? It doesn't suit you at all! What were you like there? Brunette, blonde? So be it! You do not have a solar aura and do not try to imitate the original.
Laila smiled meekly and replied:
- Mr. Koray, red is my natural hair color.
- And-and-and! The photographer grimaced again. "She's also a liar. Thinks that you can cheat me! Me! He pointed a finger at his chest. - Koray Sargin! You can circle your finger on this issue. Yes, I see dyed hair a kilometer away...
- Koray! Omer shouted at him. - Kindly, get down to business, and let us work in peace. Did you see the direction of the collection? Koray frowned resentfully but nodded. - That's great! Go to your place and come up with a concept. If it is great, then the position of the concept director is yours.
Zeyneb and Kıvanc stared at the boss with open mouths, and Koray jumped up and yelled:
- Me? Director?! Omyush, my prince of brunettes! Eyes like olives! Gorgeous hair! Ay, this is a retreat! Do not pay attention to. Yes, I will make such a concept that the whole world will be at the feet of Passionis! Your collection will be talked about for five years! He slammed the fingers of one hand into the palm of the other and made a graceful gesture with his hand. - I'm going to work.
Proudly throwing up his head, he paraded around the office and disappeared through the door. Omer sighed with relief and nodded to the amazed employees:
- We continue to work. Zubeyir, - he called the programmer. But he looked at Laila with loving eyes and did not hear anything around. Even the performance of the crazy photographer passed him by. Omer raised his voice: - Zubeyir!
- A! - He seemed to wake up from a dream and turned his head in confusion. - I beg your pardon, Mr. Omer! I thought about it.
- The computer does not save scanned drawings, - the boss interrupted him irritably and ordered: - Find out what's the matter, - Zubeyir rushed headlong to his laptop. Omer looked at the assistant and gave the following order:
- Laila! When the problem is fixed, scan all the sketches and save. She slowly nodded her head and smiled with the tips of her lips. But Omer did not notice her smile. He already turned to Zeyneb and Kivanc:
- You have four hours. You are finalizing the last two sketches and giving them to Laila to create an electronic copy, - he clapped his hands twice and gave the order:
- Let's work!
When the office was empty, he exhaled and looked at his watch. It is a quarter to one. And he hasn't called Defne in half a day. Omer rubbed his chin and smiled. Lunchtime. Why not spend it with his wife! Grabbing the phone, he swiftly left the office and hurried to the Sapphire.
But Defne was not there. Alina, smiling sweetly, informed him that Mrs. Defne had left for a meeting with Mr. Baisal.
"This is the damn merchant who drooled over Defne at the opening of Sapphire," Omer recalled and his hands clenched into fists.
- Where is the meeting taking place? He asked the girl.
"At the Lunch restaurant," she replied, and Omer, turning swiftly, walked to the elevator with a wide step.
***
Mr. Baisal was impeccably polite and welcoming. He helped Defne take off her coat, pulled out a chair for her, poured water into a glass, and inquired about her business. Defne smiled and replied that everything was in order, but she was limited in time and it would be great if Mr. Ozcan would immediately get to the heart of the matter.
- Of course, - he smiled charmingly. - But first, let's place an order.
He snapped his fingers and immediately as if out of the ground, a waiter appeared at their table with a menu. Defne did not take the folder. Smiling sweetly at the young boy in a black apron tied over a plaid shirt, she asked to bring her a risotto and salad. Baisal did not look at the menu either and dictated his order. When the waiter left, he looked at Defne's hair and complimented:
- You have rare hair color, Madame Defne. Noble as ancient gold.
- Thank you, - she said embarrassed and asked: - Let's move on to the topic.
- Oh sure! To tell the truth, we have already solved the issue of cooperation with Mrs. Laura. But I also have a personal order. And this is what I want to discuss with you. He took a small tablet from the inside pocket of his jacket and put it on the table.
- Ms. Defne, I am a widower raising an eighteen-year-old daughter. My wife died when Jansu was nine. My girl suffered so much and I tried my best I could to make her happy. And, of course, I spoiled her. I absolutely can't refuse her anything, - he sighed so sweetly and threw up his hands that Defne involuntarily smiled and thought that Omer would also be such a reliable daddy. Baisal, encouraged by her smile, continued his story: - And now my little girl has grown up, fell in love, and is going to get married. Her fiancé is a decent young man and I have nothing against it, but the problem arose out of the blue. Out of the blue. She wants to wear her mother's dress for the wedding.
- But this is a wonderful wish, - Defne was surprised at such a problem. - So, in her mind, mom remained a bright and wonderful memory.
"Yes, it's so," the man agreed. "But she wants to convert it to a more modern model. At first, I was categorically against it, but my daughter used all the levers of pressure on me in her arsenal, - Baisal smiled a loving smile. - Flapping eyelashes, the look of Bambi the dое and, finally, tears. But this I could not stand. And I agreed.
- But how can I help you? - Defne sincerely did not understand her role.
- The dress has very exquisite embroidery and is embroidered with crystal beads. If remade it the way Jansu wants it, it will need some very special decorations. Exclusive, made especially for the dress. This is my request and an individual order for Sapphire to create such jewelry. Naturally, it will be well rewarded and not only in monetary terms. In each of our network of stores, a Sapphire showcase will be created in the most prominent place. Believe me, Mrs. Defne, other companies are literally fighting for such a privilege.
- I believe, Mr. Ozcan, - answered Defne a little bewildered. - But why did you choose Sapphire, a company that just opened, and not one of those old ones with a reputation that is fighting for a window in your stores?
- Because they are rigid in their views. And I need something new, unusual, but elegant. This can only be created by you, Mrs. Defne.
Baisal hypnotized her with a look. His offer was interesting. Very interesting. Both creatively and business. It will be a challenge to the entire jewelry sector, and if she succeeds, her name and the name of the company will be on a par with the famous Turkish brands.
- Can I see the dress? Defne asked.
- Yes, of course, - Ozcan Baisal rejoiced. - It is now being reworked by the designer. The tablet contains a photo of the old dress and sketches of the new one.
He turned on the tablet and moved closer to Defne.
Omer, who entered the restaurant, saw this picture. Two heads bowed over a tablet. Golden red, in the strands of which the sun has entangled and black with gray. Unmotivated, unjustified, but no less sharp and burning jealousy filled the chest with poisonous smoke. When his nails dug into his palms painfully, and his cheekbones twisted from pain, he realized that he was clenching his fists and teeth with a frenzy. With an effort of will, forcing himself to unclench them, he resolutely went to the table. The man and woman looked up. At first, there was a surprise in Defne's eyes, but the next moment she lit up with joy.
"Omer," she held out her hand to her husband and he squeezed her thin fingers with force. - Why are you here? I didn't know you could break out for lunch.
- I tried very hard, - he kissed her hand and only then looked at Ozcan Baisal. Coldly, point-blank. - Good afternoon. Will I bother you if I join?
- Welcome. Glad to meet you, Mr. Omer, - he answered without much joy and moved to his place.
Omer grinned skeptically, sat down on a chair next to his wife, and called the waiter with a snap of a finger.
- What did you order? - He asked Defne.
"Risotto and salad," she replied.
"Risotto and salad," he repeated to the waiter, and the boy, nodding, hurried to the kitchen.
An uncomfortable silence hung around the table, which was broken by Baisal.
"I turned to Sapphire with a personal order," he said, looking Omer in the eye.
- Yes? - He answered with a sharp, as a blade look. - I would like to hear in more detail.
Defne, perplexed, looked first at one, then at the second. Omer was acting strangely and she did not understand why. But Baisal seemed to understand. His charming smile turned ironic. Leaning back in his chair, he summarized what he previously said to Defne.
"An interesting proposition," Omer said, raising an eyebrow slightly. "And what did MY wife say to it?" He emphasized the word "mine," and Defne frowned.
"Nothing yet," she said, looking into his prickly eyes. "Sapphire isn't just me." Since the offer concerns the whole company, I have to discuss it with the others.
"A logical decision," Omer nodded.
The waiter brought the order and deftly began to place plates on the table with appetizing-smelling dishes. Baisal's phone rang. Apologizing, he walked away. Defne picked up the fork and squinted at her husband.
- Eat! He growled and pricked a slice of tomato with a fork. "You're starving the baby." I hope this is not your first meal today?
- Alina made me tea and bought simites. And I had an apple.
"Simit and an apple!" Omer exclaimed angrily. "And that's for half a day!" But this happened last time. From now on, without breakfast, you do not leave the house.
"We're not leaving," Defne corrected him with a gentle smile. Omer's face relaxed and brightened. She exhaled with relief and sent a portion of risotto into her mouth.
Baisal, who had returned, found the couple having lunch peacefully. He sat down and carefully cut a small piece from the bloody steak. Putting it in his mouth and chewing, he turned to Defne:
- I don't want to look impudent, but still. Mrs. Defne, how soon can you give an answer? Unfortunately, I don't have the time. The wedding is scheduled for May and my daughter wants everything to be perfect.
"Not before six days," she replied. -The Creative Director and the Chief Master of Sapphire are now on their honeymoon and I don't want to disturb them. They'll be back in five days. Then we will discuss the question and give you an answer.
- Okay, Mrs. Defne! I am looking forward to your decision.
"You will, you will!" - Omer thought angrily, clenching his teeth.
Omer was silent all the way to the office. Defne gave him a couple of gazes, which he ignored, and turned away, looking out the window at Istanbul, getting rid of New Year's attributes. Christmas trees decorated with silver and gold balls have disappeared from shop windows, and red hats with white pompoms have disappeared from the heads of mannequins. Workers had put away the illumination and congratulatory billboards. Near the trash cans, there were hills of Christmas trees that fulfilled their mission and became unnecessary. The New Year came into its own and demanded that the residents of Istanbul put aside the festive mood and get to work.
In the elevator, Omer only pressed one button. Sixteenth floor. Defne looked at him questioningly.
"We need to talk," he explained and leaned his shoulder against the metal lining of the booth.
- About what? Defne asked.
- Let's get to your office.
He did not look at her and Defne, not understanding his behavior, became worried and nervously tapped her fingers on the brown leather of her purse.
- Tell me! - she demanded as soon as they crossed the threshold of her office. "I hate it when you're mad at me, but I don't know why.
"I'm not angry." He helped her take off her coat and put it on the back of a chair.
- Aren't you mad? Defne said, crossing her arms on her chest. - Then why are you silent and not looking at me?
- Okay! - he pressed the tabletop with his palms. - I am angry! I don't like this type of man, and I don't want you to meet with him.
- What type? - she was sincerely surprised.
- Defne, don't make yourself a fool! What another type could there be?! Ozcan Baisal !!!
Omer rushed about the office. Defne stepped aside so that he would not knock her over and asked sarcastically:
- And how do you imagine it? Sapphire signed a contract with his firm. They buy our debut collection. And I, in your opinion, should shy away from the owner and bypass him by ten streets?
"There is Laura," he said stubbornly. - Let her do business with him. And you keep all contacts to a minimum.
Defne's composure was getting thinner and thinner. With a huge effort of will, she tried to remain calm and reach out to his mind:
- Omer, did you hear his today's proposal? It's not just profitable! This is a breakthrough! If I can create wedding decorations for Mr. Ozcan's daughter ... but I can do it! She said confidently. - Sapphire will receive centerpieces in his stores.
- Sapphire will become successful without his stores! I do not want you to accept this offer, - Omer stood his ground.
Stubborn mule! Defne stamped her foot and screamed:
- Why, explain to me ?! Where did you get such a prejudice against him?
Omer stopped and, looking out the window, haughtily declared:
- I don't like this guy. He doesn't look at you as a business partner at all.
- Nonsense! Defne objected. - Mr. Ozcan did not do or say anything that would offend or alarm me. If this happened, I, not looking at the benefits for the company, I would immediately terminate any contact with him.
- Defne, you don't know men well! Believe me, often behind the mask of politeness there are not noble thoughts at all.
- And now what ?! Should I suspect each and every one of dishonesty? Or lock me in the house and wear a burqa?
- Don't exaggerate! - Omer snapped. "Just listen to me and do as I ask."
- No! Defne said firmly.
- No?
Omer was taken aback and stared at her amazed. She stood, so small and fragile, with her hands folded on her chest and a stubbornly upturned chin, and looked at him with eyes of not his Defne at all.
- No? He asked.
- No! - She firmly repeated and already in a different, desperate tone appealed to his reason. - Omer, what are you doing? You're choking me! You don't let me breathe!
- Don't let you breathe? - he turned pale. Straightening up and proudly throwing up his head, he said: - Well, breathe! - and left the office.
The door closed behind him with a thud, and rapid footsteps were heard in the corridor. Defne grabbed a notebook from the table and threw it into the wall. Inside, two Defne fought. One, madly in love, demanded to immediately run to Omer. To hug, dissolve in it, promise anything! To become a handkerchief in his pocket, a bracelet on his arm. His shadow and echo. But the other Defne proudly raised her head and asked:
"Will it be you? Or a handkerchief or a bracelet? Do you think he will love them? He loves you, not his shadow! Stay yourself, Defne! Prove him wrong, persuade him, love with all your heart! But don't become a shadow! Never become a shadow! "
She picked up the notebook and put it on the table.
Omer burst into his office. He strode over to the table, then turned around and returned to the door again. He squeezed his temples with his palms and raised his head. From the adjoining office, the slanting eyes of the assistant looked at him. In two steps, finding himself at the glass partition, he closed the blinds in one movement and went to the window. Resentment choked him. Defne is burdened by his love! She said that he would not let her breathe. Doesn't let her breathe! And he cannot breathe without her! One thought that she might stop loving him, leave, paralyzes him. Yes, she loves him now. But what if someone appears and enchants her heart? Allow her to breathe freely and she leaves?
- No! He objected to himself. - This will not happen! Calm down, Omer, calm down!
A door creaked behind him, and he looked around. Laila stood on the threshold with a cup in her hands.
- What do you want? He snapped.
- I brought you coffee.
- Put it on the table and go out.
The assistant followed the order and headed for the door.
"Stop," the word sounded like a bullet fired from a pistol. She looked around. Omer pointed to the glass partition and rapped out:
- I will not repeat more. Find out for yourself and tell the cleaning lady - the blinds must be closed. Always. Is that clear? She pursed her lips and nodded silently. - Now go out and don't let anyone come to me.
When the door closed behind her, he sat down in a chair and took a sip from the coffee. Its bitterness cleared his brains and nervous tension receded a little. Closing his eyes, Omer took another sip and exhaled. Exactly what is needed! At least he can sit still and not rush around the office like a wounded beast. Nervously tapping his fingers on the table, he threw back his head and drained the rest of the coffee in one gulp. And then he jumped to his feet and left the office.
"I won't be back today," he threw to the surprised Nazlican on the move. - Tell Sinan that the collection is ready and Koray is working on the concept.
"Okay, Mr. Omer," Nazlican said to his retreating back.
But it was not possible to leave quietly. In the hallway, Koray intercepted him and held him by the hand.
- Omyush, where are you going?
"At home Koray," he snapped. - You wanted something or, as usual, to chat in vain.
The photographer even choked with righteous anger. But he looked into the black eyes burning with rage and prudently deciding to leave the hysterics for later, he spoke calmly:
- You said yourself - come up with a concept. I figured it out. Come and see.
- Koray, tomorrow I'll see. Bring it to perfection.
Freeing his hand, he strode down the hallway to the elevator. Koray looked after him thoughtfully and, in a silent guess, arched an eyebrow.
- And-and-and! We took this ugly person to work. A week has been working, and has already brought Omyush to white heat, - he turned his eyes and, pressing his index finger to his chin, smiled delightedly. - He will now go to the skinny girl, they will kiss and all his irritation will go away! Umm! - he threw up his head and with a dancing gait went to his office. - How smart I am!
Clever Koray was wrong. Omer entered the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor. He called Sukru and said that he was leaving by taxi, and he should wait for Defne.
In the car, when a phlegmatic taxi driver asked for the address, he was confused for a moment. He didn't know where to go. He didn't want to go home in such a state. To see anyone too.
- To the seafront, - answered the question shortly.
The man nodded and started the engine.
Closing in her office, Laila spoke on the phone:
- Can you imagine, this block of ice, my boss, yelled at me and ordered to keep closed the blinds on the glass partition between our offices. This has never happened to me. Still, not a single man I wanted has remained indifferent to me. And this one does not seem to see me. Looks through me. He does not notice women around at all. Only with his wife he gets tender, - she fell silent and, after listening to her interlocutor's remark, she twisted her mouth contemptuously and exclaimed: - Oh, I beg you! What kind of love? Where have you seen men who know how to love? They need convenience, comfort, and sex from women. In the latter, I am as good as anyone! Men feel it and fly like bees to honey. Omer Iplikci will not resist either. Because he is walking sex. And his wife, this chicken, is pregnant. And it plays into my hands. Soon she will get plump and become unpleasant to him. This is where I turn on all my charm and sexuality. First I'll be in his bed, then - in the house and at the head of Sapphire. "She fell silent again, listening to the answer, and then laughed. - Ay, don't make me laugh! Where have you seen men like Iplikci, for whom children would be more important than pleasure? And I will provide him with pleasure. You know me!
***
For forty minutes Defne had hypnotized the phone with her eyes, but the desired call did not come. Omer was silent, and she could not resist. She called herself. And she ran into voicemail. Her husband has turned off the phone. In her memory, this happened only once - after their ill-fated engagement, when Omer disappeared for several days. But now everything is different! He couldn't do that! Or ... could he?
Feeling cold in heart, she called Nazlican and heard that Mr. Omer had left two hours ago and said that he would not return to work today. Then she called Sukru.
"Defne, I'm waiting for you in the parking lot," he reported cheerfully.
- A ... Omer? She asked in a strange voice.
- He took a taxi. And he told me to wait for you.
- Okay, I'm leaving now, - promised Defne and dropped her hand with the phone.
Oh, Gods! Is the past returning? "Not that! Not that! - she prayed. - Let him wait for me at home!
But Omer was not there. Surprised Zehra, seeing Defne's alarming state, replied that he did not appear at home and offered to stay with her until her husband returned. But Defne squeezed out a smile and assured that everything was fine and that she and Sukru could go home.
Defne wandered aimlessly through the rooms. She listened to every sound and clearly heard how a car slowed down near the house. A couple of seconds later the gate slammed.
She met him in the hall. He was without a coat. Moisture soaked his hair and clothes. Defne silently looked into his frowning face, turned around, and went to the stairs. Dozens of questions swarmed in her head, but there were no words to ask them.
Omer caught up with her in two steps, turned her around, and pushed her with his whole body against the wall. Burying his face in her neck, he said hoarsely:
- I can't breathe without you. Here, "he touched his chest," is a stone. It presses.
All anger towards him melted away without a trace. Her chest ached from compassion and from another feeling - sweet, quivering.
- Where have you been? She asked, touching the hair on the back of his head.
- On the seafront.
His palms were cold as ice.
- Without a coat. You are frozen. Come on, I will warm the tea, and you will change, - her voice was soft, and the hands, fingering his hair and stroking his neck, warm and affectionate. He shook his head.
- I don't want tea! - strong hands squeezed her so that it became difficult to breathe. - I want you! I want to know that you are mine! I want to enter into you and feel that we are one whole and you breathe deeply, with your whole chest.
He spoke, and his hands moved greedily over her body. They stroked the back, squeezed the chest, sneaked under the sweater, and warmed themselves on her warm skin.
- I love you so much! - he kissed her neck, chin, cheekbone. He covered her lips and burst his tongue into her mouth. Defne moaned softly and began to take off his jacket. Without moving up from her lips, Omer helped her and threw it aside. And then he picked her up and carried her upstairs.
He loved her with the desperation of a starving man. Like a madman, he stroked and kissed the sensitive points on her body, but did not allow her to step over the edge. There was no place on her skin that his hot lips did not touch. The pleasure was so burning and sharp that it seemed to her that it was impossible to bear it. Defne wanted him in herself, but he hesitated again and again bringing her to the line with his hands and lips and holding her there.
- Omer! She exclaimed pleadingly and reached out to him. - Why do you...
He held her and she, opening her eyes, looked at him. The stars burned in her misty eyes.
- Say you can breathe next to me! - He demanded, and his fingers moved in her, sending convulsions of pleasure throughout her body.
She took a deep breath and moaned:
- I can ... only next to you ... breathing ...
- Say that you love me and you will always love me! - new requirement and new finger movement.
Defne arched her body. Her voice broke into a scream:
- You know!
- Tell me !!!
- I love you!!! Love you to infinity !!!
The fingers were gone. Omer covered her with himself and the two bodies became one.
***
"I was scared," Defne admitted.
She lay with her cheek pressed to his chest and slowly traced intricate patterns on the leather-covered steel muscles with her finger.
- Why?
Leaning back on the pillow and closing his eyes, he listened with all his being to her touch. His long fingers lazily fingered the soft strands of hair, stroked the milky-white shoulder, touched the delicate skin of her hand.
- It seemed to me - everything came back again. You are leaving, leaving me ...
- Never! - he grabbed her and hid her in his big and strong hands. - I wanted to think. Alone. That's why I turned off the phone.
- Аnd did you think?
Omer nodded.
- I thought. I know I was wrong. I know with my mind. But I can't do anything about my jealousy. When I see this merchant ... and others next to you, - Defne felt his body stiffen, - I want to grab you in my arms and drag you away. Close you up in the house. Wrap up in a burqa. Never let anyone near you. So that you are just mine. You said everything correctly - I want it.
"I also want other women not to look at you," Defne spoke quietly. - So that you do not talk to them, do not smile at them. But I understand that this is impossible. We live in a society and cannot avoid communication.
"I know," Omer sighed. After a pause for a minute, he asked: - Will you take on Baisal's order?
"If Ahtem, Laura, and Seda approve of it, then yes," Defne answered calmly, even indifferently. - This is a very good and advantageous offer for Sapphire.
Omer understood this. But one thought that his wife would speak and smile at this impudent person burned his insides with fire. Yet he resigned himself. Raising her head, he looked into deep amber eyes and asked:
"I have only one request. Only one.
"Speak," Defne agreed softly.
- Do not meet him alone. May there always be someone close to you. Alina, for example. Or Mirai. Or even Mert.
- So it will be, - promised Defne and smiled apologetically. - I was supposed to go with Alina today, but urgent matters prevented her. Laura is on vacation and her absence is very noticeable.
Omer felt relieved. With her gentle hands and understanding, Defne removed the stone from his chest, which was choking him and did not allow breathing.
"Thank you." He kissed her forehead and pressed his cheek to hers. "Sorry to make you worry. And you can't ..., - he frowned and cursed himself: - Idiot! The height of stupidity and selfishness on my part.
"Don't scold yourself," Defne asked and kissed his shoulder. "But promise me something too.
- Anything!
- When we fight again, don't turn off the phone, okay? I was very worried...
"I promise," Omer said firmly. He sat up in bed, put his hand on her slightly rounded tummy, and brought his face closer to it. Covering it with a chain of short kisses, he spoke: - Sorry, honey! Dad did a bad thing. But this will not happen again! Defne's stomach rumbled. Omer looked at her and frowned. The guilty expression on her face was even more pronounced. - Have you had dinner? He asked, and she shook her head. - Allah-Allah! What kind of parents are we? Faster to the kitchen!
They pulled on their pajamas and went downstairs. The two of them warmed up the bulgur cooked by Zehra with meatballs, the two set the table and sat down to dinner. Omer put more and more appetizing pieces on Defne's plate, and she moaned plaintively that she would burst. Or turn into a hippo. But he did not pick up her joking tone and, seriously looking into her eyes, asked:
- Promise that even if you are upset, you will still not forget to eat. After all, you feed not only yourself but also the baby.
"I know." She grimaced guiltily. - But I couldn't put a piece in my mouth. I was very worried when I could not call you and you were not at home. Yes, I also understood that you were offended by me. And I can't bear it when you get mad at me. A stone lays down. Here, - she repeated his recent words and touched her chest with the same gesture.
He took her graceful palm and kissed it first, and then the place to which she touched. Hugging her neck with his palms, he spoke repentantly:
"I can't bear it when you take offense at me either. And every time I hurt you with my intemperance, I regret and scold myself for it. But my stupid character! I flare up in a split second and I can't control my anger. At such moments, it is better if I stay away from you. I'll get over it, calm down, start thinking soberly - and then I can come back and talk.
Defne covered his palms with hers and, smiling affectionately, asked:
- As today?
He shook his head.
- It didn't help today. More precisely, in my mind, I understood that I was wrong, but in my heart, it was happening so, that the hurricane on Bora Bora, compared to this, was like a light rain.
"Forgive me," Defne asked. - I shouldn't have said that last phrase. But I also flared up, - she smiled. - You see, in this we are the same. We flare up like matches," her smile lit up with slyness. "But then we will never be bored ... unless you kill me with such a reconciliation. I thought I was going to explode and burn alive.
Defne couldn't believe her eyes. A blush appeared through the dark skin on the cheekbones and neck. Omer Iplikci blushed! And he was embarrassed! And he looks at her like a naughty puppy. And speaks in incoherent phrases.
- Sorry ... I'm ashamed ... behaved like a savage ... I say the same - such a hurricane raged inside me ... I wanted to hear ... I really wanted ... more than life ... but I swear ... never again!
She couldn't see him like that. Confused, guilty. Tilting her head and looking into his eyes, she made a frustrated face and asked again:
- Never? Are you sure? Can you change your mind? I like it.
Omer's heart stopped for a moment, and then start furiously pounding. And she smiled with her radiant smile and her voice hoarse with feelings said:
"Every time you give me such pleasure... such fireworks of pleasure... I am the happiest woman in the world.
Wandering over her face with his eyes, he stroked her cheeks, neck, hollows of her collarbones. Kissed her sweetly and tenderly. And he answered, looking into the shining pools of her eyes:
- You are the most beautiful woman in the world.
***
In the morning the former Omer Iplikci returned to Passionis. Confident, unflappable, and calm. He walked easily along the corridor of the office and felt like a man who had everything in order in his life.
Koray jumped out of his office and grabbed his arm. Omer only had time to wonder what the spoiled photographer was doing at work so early when he pulled him into his office. Pushing the boss onto the sofa, Koray slyly narrowed his eyes and asked:
- Have you calmed down? Did your skinny girl kiss you and all the problems disappeared?
Omer opened his mouth and took a short breath. How does this madman know? Or again slipped him and Defne some electronic Koray, and they do not know?
- Why are you so scared? - asked the photographer. - Or am I guessing right? - He clapped his hands. - Hmph! I guessed exactly. You went evil yesterday to the skinny one. You kissed and your mood immediately improved. But now you go to your room, and the ugly one will spoil it for you again. Can you kick her out?
- Whom? - Omer asked perplexedly.
- Ugly assistant.
- Koray, do not make it up! Why would I kick her out? She copes well with her duties.
The photographer snorted derisively.
- Pfft! Copes! Why are you so angry then? And the skinny girl doesn't like her, "he added confidently."
- Skinny ... - Omer shook his head. - Wait! What makes you think that Defne doesn't like Laila?
Koray looked at him as if he were a foolish child and tapped his temple.
- Omyush, have you lost your brains? How can she like a girl who made herself a copy of her?
- Who? Whom did you do? Koray, I don't understand you at all.
Koray slapped his cheeks and rolled his eyes. Then he looked at Omer not as at a child, but as at a slow-witted idiot.
"Your ugly assistant has made a second skinny out of herself," he explained by syllables. - Didn't you notice?
A second Defne? Is this possible? Defne is the one and only. There is no second such and cannot be! Omer shrugged his shoulders and replied:
- No. I didn't look closely. Okay, Koray! We're talking god knows what. Let's change the theme. You said yesterday that you came up with the concept. Show it.
Koray in a moment forgot about the ugly assistant and blossomed into a wide smile. Grabbing the folder from the table, he fell down next to Omer on the sofa and mumbled:
- Oh, Omyush! You're going to faint now! The idea is a bomb! All women will go crazy and want to buy your shoes. In production, machines will break down from overload!
- What machines? - Opening the folder mechanically asked Omer.
- Well, those on which shoes are made!
- Shoes are sewn, not made.
- Ay, what's the difference! They do, they sew! What is it to me?! Look at ideas!
Omer watched. The ideas were good. He looked up at Koray with interest. Comprehending what he saw, he said thoughtfully:
- Cinderella became a princess with the right shoes. Interesting. In today's aggressive advertising world, no one has used fairy tales.
- Like no one?! Like nobody?! Cried Koray. - You used it. Do you remember the slogan of your company? - He jumped to his feet, raised his hand in front of him, and pretended to be pathetic: - Cinderella is direct proof that a pair of shoes can change a girl's life! - He fell back on the sofa and grabbed the folder from Omer's hands. - Now look! Making it happen! Everyone! Everyone! Everyone! If you put on the right shoes, then your prince will definitely find you! Koray nudged Omer with his shoulder. - Well, how?
The man scratched the back of his head. Then his beard. Then the corner of the mouth. Then he bit his lower lip.
- Omyush, speak already!!! - The author of the idea, having lost patience, shouted. - Say what you think!
He looked up at him and spread his hands.
- Koray, this is a brilliant concept.
There was a deafening silence in the room. Koray looked at Omer for a few seconds and blinked. And then he jumped from his seat and, screaming the office with his shouts, began to perform the ritual dance of the Polynesian aborigines.
- Ay-la-la!!! I'm the concept director!
For the third time, falling on the sofa near Omer, he inundated him with questions:
- Omyush, will you give me an assistant? Not ugly! I'll choose myself. Let the boy be! The one that runs around the office. I don't remember the name. And also a car with a driver!
- Stop, Koray, stop! Omer winced. - Let's talk it over later. Together with Sinan. Now let's get back to work. The face of such a concept should be a special girl. Koray pressed his index finger to his cheek and stared at him with an expectant smile. - Special ... refined ... graceful, but at the same time strong and generous ... Defne.
Koray raised his hands to the sky and exclaimed:
- Allah, you poured golden rain on me! You wanted her to be! I didn't even hint! - His gaze returned to the earth's boss. Arched an eyebrow, he asked: - And? How are we going to persuade her?