- Lаila! – A familiar, capricious voice sounded like a shot.
She twitched, opened her eyes sharply, and looked at the door. There, in a picture pose, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, stood her personal inquisitor.
And why was he up against her? Didn't she bring food from expensive pastry shops? Brought! She flatters him shamelessly? Flattering! What else does he need?
Laila unclenched her teeth and said in a honeyed voice:
- Yes, Mr. Koray.
- And-and-and! Lazy! Sits here lounging, dreaming of Omyush! - He walked into the office and, stopping at the table, waved his index finger in front of her nose. - Forget! Omyush he wouldn't see you, like how he can't see his ears! He loves the skinny girl. Come on, lift your big ass, and trot to get the props for the photoshoot.
"Mr. Koray," Laila protested, barely holding back her anger. She got up from the table and picked up a folder with documents. - I am an assistant to Mr. Omer and running after the props is not my job.
- What?!! - The new director was indignant. - Not included in the duties?!
His words bounced off the retreating back of the assistant. She, shaking her hips, made her way to the boss's office. Opening the door, she smiled charmingly and said:
- Mr. Omer, your signature on letters to suppliers is urgently needed.
- Come in, - Iplikci's cold voice was heard.
Laila went inside and put the folder in front of the boss. Koray rushed after. He flew into Omer's office and shouted at the top of his lungs:
- Omyush! Kick this out ... Phew!!! What stinks here? There is a dead mouse behind the desk, or what? - He disgustedly covered his nose with two fingers.
Laila's face took on a burgundy hue. Omer shrugged. Looking through the letters, he answered indifferently:
"I don't think so. Rather, some of the employees have a dubious taste in choosing perfumes."
The redness on Laila's face was replaced by a deathly pallor. She seemed to have been slapped in the face. It's so hard. From all over the place. While she was recovering, Koray, waving his hand in front of his face, complained to Omer:
- Omyush, your assistant is not only ugly! She's also lazy. The entire office falls from its feet from fatigue, and she hides in her office. If you don't need her, let her go for the props!
- Okay, Koray, - Omer answered without raising his head from the documents and ordered his assistant: - Laila, give Nazlycan the letters, and then you will be at the disposal of Mr. Koray.
The proud concept director looked triumphantly at the stunned girl. She turned purple again and protested out loud:
- Mr. Omer, but I am your personal assistant. Props are not my job!
Omer signed the last letter, put down his pen, carefully closed the folder, and only then looked at her with an impenetrable gaze.
- Laila, we at Passionis, during emergency days, do not divide work into our own and someone else's. Everyone works for the common cause. I don't need you anymore for today. But Mr. Koray needs you. It will not be difficult for you to take care of the props. "He handed her the folder." - Give the letters to the secretary and go...
- To Ozie! - Interrupting the boss, yelled Koray. - And fast! He will tell you what to do.
Laila took the folder and silently left the office. Once in her room, she threw it on the table, closed her mouth with her fist, and stamped her feet hysterically. Looking at the blinds, she hissed:
- You will pay for this! Аll!
Koray, as soon as the door closed behind the assistant, again waved his hands in front of his nose and grimaced in disgust:
- Fu!!! Mediocre! Soaked everything here with poison. Omyush, I can't leave this place - this witch decided to turn you around her fingers.
"Koray, don't talk nonsense," Omer asked wearily. "You know perfectly well that this is impossible.
Koray looked at him thoughtfully and shook his head.
- Oh, Omyush! He sighed. - You're like a small child. She's w-i-t-c-h! Better kick her out before it's too late.
- And the reason? - Omer looked at him seriously. - I can't kick out an employee without a reason.
- The reason? Koray thought. - Reason ... You will have a reason! I swear!
***
Omer stood quietly in the kitchen doorway and watched as Defne, humming something melodic, washes the dishes. Her voice floated through the air, penetrating his skin and vibrating in his chest with a sweet shiver. She was so beautiful. In cute home dress, with fiery hair scattered over her shoulders and her delicate face completely devoid of makeup, she had no idea how much loved and desired she was. He walked over to her and stopped behind. Pressing his whole body, he hugged her and drowned his face in her hair. They smelled exotic and heady. The smell hit his head and made the blood run faster through his veins. Omer slid his palms over her body and crossed them under her breasts. In a voice low from the feelings raging inside, he spoke in her ear:
- Drop the dishes. Then we will wash them. I miss you...
"One plate is left," Defne replied softly.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. His hands, body heat, ragged breathing were intoxicating and shivering. The heart in her chest melted and thoughts crumbled into fragments and swirled like multi-colored stones in a kaleidoscope. But Defne managed to rinse the plate and put it in the dryer. She even dried her hands with a towel. And only then turned to him and hugged him by the neck. His hair was damp from the shower and curled around her fingers as she brushed them gently over the back of his head.
"Someone promised to cure my jealousy with love," Omer reminded in a velvet voice and pressed his lips to her graceful neck. Defne sighed convulsively and tilted her head to her shoulder. A path of kisses, unhurried, viscous-tender, stretched from the collarbone to the chin and along it to the ear. Stopping, he pressed his cheek to her cheek and purred: "I'm waiting for my medicine.
- Are you jealous now? - Defne with difficulty pulled out the necessary words from her clouded mind.
- And how! - He confirmed. - I'm always jealous of you.
Defne stood up on tiptoe and kissed him. Her tongue ran over Omer's plump lower lip and slipped into his mouth. There it intertwined with his, hot ... skillful and the dance of passion began. They kissed long and hard. First tender and sweet, now furious, on the verge of pain and recklessness. Omer dug into the pliable lips, crushed them, and then caressed them, barely touching them with his lips. His hands went under the dress. He pressed his palms to the silk skin of her legs and held up to the buttocks. Squeezing them, he picked up Defne in his arms. She, like a vine, clung to him and wrapped her arms and legs around his strong body.
"I lit the fireplace," he whispered at her ear. - And I put a blanket. I want to love you and see how the reflections of fire dance on your white skin. I'm brazen, right?
Defne shook her head and protested fervently:
- No! You are beautiful! And beloved! I want you to love me by the fireplace. And so that the reflections of the fire are reflected in your eyes.
- What are you doing to me? - He said, and he was rapidly walking into the living room. - You have driven me crazy ... all my thoughts are only about you...
He knelt by the fireplace and laid Defne on a white, fluffy blanket. With a jerk, pulling off the t-shirt by the collar, he threw it away and, leaning on his hand, bent over his wife. She wandered in fascination with her eyes over his chest, shoulders, stomach. In those places where her gaze lingered, his skin began to burn with fire. Burning, unbearable. Defne lit it, and only she could put it out. With her hands, her lips ... her small, sweet body, which was now hiding under a home-dress. At the neckline the skin was white. It pulled to him like a magnet, beckoning to touch, kiss, to drown in the gentle scent. One by one, Omer unbuttoned the flat buttons from collar to hem and opened the blue fabric. A hoarse groan escaped his lips. There was nothing under it. Only porcelain skin and cherry nipple areolas.
"I haven't forgotten," Defne said in a vibrating whisper. Noticing the bewilderment flashing in his black eyes, she explained: - I haven't forgotten my promise...
She sat up and pulled off her dress. Looking at her husband in the eyes, she easily pushed him in the chest, and he lay down on the blanket.
Now it was her turn to bend over the perfect body. Without taking her gaze off his eager eyes, she traced her lips with her finger. He caught it and sucked it into his mouth. Gritting his teeth lightly, he licked the sensitive pad several times and Defne trembled. She pulled out her finger, smiled insolently, and ran it over the flat male nipple. It hardened. Defne bent down and kissed this large bead. Omer groaned and cupped the back of her head in his hand. Long fingers buried in red hair and clenched them in a fist.
- Defne..., - he croaked, begging, and not daring to say what he wanted out loud. - Defne...
Her hand went down. Along the flat, with clearly outlined cubes of the abdomen, to the elastic of pajama pants. Having lingered there for a split second, which seemed to Omer an eternity, it slipped under it and embraced his being. At the same moment, Defne softly bit on his nipple, and Omer's body jerked as if an electric shock had been passed through him. And her palm created a thrill. It stroked, squeezed, and rhythmically moved along the entire length. The thumb caressed the trembling head. So gentle, easy ... as if afraid to hurt it. The pleasure of her touch bordered on madness. Omer tried to stretch it, keep it on the brink, but the fiery lava had already flooded his veins. Displacing the blood and getting to the heart, it burned it from the inside. The lower abdomen was cramping. Another moment and he will not be able to control his desire. Grabbing her hand, he began to get rid of his trousers with sharp, feverish movements. Pulling them to his knees, he helped himself with his legs and threw them aside. Pulling Defne to him, he sat her astride on his hips and fell on her mouth with a kiss. His palm cupped her breast. The index and middle finger squeezed the nipple, and it turned into a cherry. Letting go of her lips, the man fell to her nipple with a greedy mouth.
- Omer! Defne shouted.
Every movement of his tongue pierced her body with sweet pain. This pain tormented her and demanded more. Her insides were ablaze with fire. A dot pulsed in her depths. Defne wanted more than life for Omer to touch her with himself. He entered deeply and gave her ... paradise.
"Omer," she moaned again and he let go of her breasts. Raising by the hips, directed himself into her and gently lowered. Big and hard, he filled her to the limit. Slid along the pulsating point. Defne screamed and began to move on him. Holding her hips, Omer set the pace. He did not close his eyes. He looked at her and the exciting picture blew away the remnants of his mind. The fire of the fireplace gleamed on the snow-white skin, and it shone with a soft, creamy light. A full chest swayed smoothly in time to the movements. Sparks of gold sparkled in her matted hair. Long eyelashes lay in semicircles on her cheeks and flinched every time Defne sighed convulsively or moaned. Red lips, swollen from kisses, were parted. Defne was breathing fast and ragged. Passion changed her features. Beautiful before, now it was enchanting. Omer couldn't get enough of her. He eagerly caught the slightest emotion that was reflected in her beloved face. He wanted to see and capture in his memory the moment when pleasure oversteps the peak, and Defne flies into heaven. The movement has accelerated. The point in Defne's body grew into a fireball. It trembled and accumulated pleasure. It was sharp and stinging. Defne was balancing at its peak.
- I love you! - Omer's hoarse voice and his deep push tore her off this peak and the ball flew into blinding fragments.
Omer eagerly caught the reflection of the highest peak of love on her face. Sealed it in memory and heart. Like a live photograph. So that sometimes, when there will be hard times, looking into the storage of memory, be the first to see it. And to understand that everything is transient and only love is eternal.
Defne fell on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. His own pleasure washed over him. But even at the moment when not a single thought remained in his head, the words escaped his lips in a hoarse growl:
- I love you!
Defne curled up like a kitten and lay quietly at his side. Too quiet. This silence was alarming. Omer pulled at the edge of the large blanket and covered the fragile figure. She didn't budge. Frightened that he had startled his wife with his unbridled passion, he frowned and quietly called her:
"Darling," she raised her eyes to him and smiled. His heart was relieved. - What are you thinking about?
- Yes so, - she looked away. - All sorts of nonsense climbs into my head.
"Tell me," Omer ordered. "I don't want nonsense to settle in your pretty head and disturb you.
"I think about what your reaction will be when jealousy overwhelms me," Defne answered.
- Jealousy? He asked. - You?
"Uh-huh," she confirmed.
Omer rubbed his cheek with a characteristic gesture inherent only to him.
"My reaction, then?" Well, after I dance the jubilant dance of the Polynesian aborigines, he squinted at her face. But the joke didn't work. Defne looked at him seriously and waited patiently for an answer. "After that, I'll hug you tight." That's right, - he squeezed his hands, and her slim figure drowned in them. "And I'll say I love you. And you will believe and forget about all this nonsense."
"Forget it?" Defne asked hopefully.
"At the same moment," Omer promised. "And if you don't forget, I'll have to drag you to bed and show how much I want you and how much I love you." But I warn you at once - my imagination will have no limits.
- Allah-Allah! - Defne laughed. - Are you warning or luring? I can play a very good memory.
- Play, - Omer supported her and winked. - Only in reality do not worry about nonsense. I am monogamous, Defne. Remember this always.
- So, do you remember that you are the only one for me? - She answered him.
- I remember! Omer objected hotly. - And I trust you unconditionally. But I don't trust some men.
- And I to some women. Who looks at you as a prize! Enraged me, impudent, - Defne knitted her eyebrows and angrily stuck out her lower lip.
Omer laughed softly and ran his thumb over it.
- Then we agreed - we get angry at impudent and brazen, but never at each other.
- Ay! - Defne made a funny face. - I can't promise. Your stubbornness sometimes makes me mad!
- Me yours too, - Omer did not remain in debt and burst out laughing. Defne echoed him with lively laughter. - Darling, - he said through laughter, - we stand each other!
- You're right! She agreed easily. "But I warn you - my anger can be as uncontrollable as your jealousy."
"I will treat it with love," Omer promised with an oath.
- Oh, - Defne widened her eyes. - We risk breaking the bed.
- While you are pregnant - no, - her husband said to her tone. - But when Emine is born, we will definitely have to buy a new one every month.
***
Laura applied for Sapphire's participation in the Diamond Stars jewelry exhibition. It was accepted and approved. At the same time, work was underway to sign a contract with Ozcan Baisal. Laura, ignoring his obvious displeasure with this state of affairs, dealt with it herself. Defne plunged headlong into sketching. She was obsessed with painting an exclusive collection of jewelry. At times, a wave of insecurity rolled over her. The sketches she created seemed boring and ordinary to her. One day Omer entered her office at the moment when she was about to tear another drawing, and managed to snatch it out of her hands at the last moment.
- What are you doing? - He was indignant and carefully looked at the sketch. Cool idea. Perfect work. What happened to his impressionable wife again?
- It's terrible! - Almost crying, she said.
"It's beautiful," Omer objected.
- Primitive!
- Graceful.
- Complete lack of style!
- More precisely, mixing several and, as a result, the birth of a new one. Bold and sophisticated.
- You're just comforting me! You say what I want to hear!
Tears gushed from amber eyes.
- No! Defne, don't you know me? I will never distort the truth. Even for your peace of mind. If the sketch was bad, I would tell you about it openly. But it's good! Very good, - Defne sobbed. Omer put the drawing aside and looked into her tear-stained face. It was so unhappy that his heart trembled with a burning desire to immediately console her, to dispel all fears and doubts. He held out his hands to her and called: - Come to me.
She stepped into his arms and hugged his chest tightly. Omer gently stroked her hair, put his arm around her shoulders, and began to gently shake her.
- That's it, my soul. Calm down and don't cry. You upset yourself and the baby for no reason.
- I am mediocre, - Defne sniffed piteously.
"You are talented," Omer objected with boundless patience.
- I lack knowledge!
- I have not seen anyone else who would learn as quickly as you.
- I have no special education.
- Your artistic taste and flair are more important than the common truths that are stuffed you at the university. But if you want to take a course in jewelry making - what is the problem? In the summer you will submit your documents.
- You are the most wonderful! Do you know this?
The sincerity of the words was darkened by another sob.
- Then why are you crying? - Omer asked softly and, taking her by the chin, raised her sweet face with a reddened nose and swollen lips.
"Because I'm afraid," Defne answered.
Gently wiping away her tears with his thumbs, he asked:
- What from?
- That I don't deserve all this!
- Stupid, - Omer put his hands around her face, - you, like no one else, deserve the most beautiful, happiest life. Never doubt yourself. That which is born in this head - he kissed her on the forehead - should live and please everyone with its beauty. Promise me that when you are overwhelmed by an attack of self-doubt and lack of confidence in your abilities, you will not tear up the sketches. You will go with them to Ahtem, or to Laura, or to me, and you will hear an independent opinion. None of us will flatter you, but we will not allow you to destroy great ideas either. Do you promise?
Defne smiled through her tears and nodded.
- Here's my clever girl, - Omer again pressed her redhead to his chest. - Come on now, calm down, smile, and take a little break from work. Your head needs to rest, the inspiration needs to recharge, and the baby needs some fresh air. It's good weather today. Let's go to the park. We will walk and have lunch in one of the restaurants with a beautiful view of the bay.
The tears dried up and a happy smile lit up Defne's face.
- Let's go! I want to go to the park, eat stuffed mussels and fried fish. She slipped out of his embrace and took her coat. Omer intercepted her and helped dress it. Fastening the buttons, Defne continued to say: - And also ice cream with nuts. With pistachios. Or cashews? No, exactly with pistachios. Yes, with pistachios!
Omer breathed out imperceptibly and smiled. The fit of uncertainty passed, and the unfortunate kitten again turned into his lovely Defne.
***
Laila, heroically restraining her anger and hiding it behind a mask of complacency, in the concept director's office packed shoes for the photoshoot in boxes. All 37 sizes. For a single model. Defne Iplikci. Damn inquisitor, the owner of the office, Koray Sargin, in ten days he drilled a hole in her brain with his delight for the beautiful skinny girl and how the camera loves her. You would think there is only one photogenic girl in the world! The camera loves her, Laila, too. And her hair is red too. And the skin is white. And the foot size is 37. And she could have presented the collection much better. She would have ignited her with such sexuality that Mrs. Iplikci never dreamed of. The plan itself formed in her wicked brain. But Zubeyir prevented her from starting its implementation. This idiot stuck to her like glue. He looks with loving eyes and drags his tail behind her. He also talks incessantly.
- Oh, what awaits us tomorrow! Mr. Koray will chase everyone, swear and faint. Mister Sinan will calm and revive him. And Mr. Omer will be silently angry. But this is only while Defne is in a good mood. As soon as she frowns or says she is tired, he will explode. Then there will be little space for everyone. Mr. Koray will recover in a moment, and work will go like clockwork.
- So maybe Mrs. Defne should immediately demonstrate her whims? - Laila asked with veiled mockery.
- What are you saying! - Zubeyir exclaimed. - Defne is not like that! She is the kindest and most caring person in the world. She thinks about others more than about herself. Altruist! - The programmer could not restrain himself and flashed his vocabulary. - Mr. Omer knows this. Therefore, he watches after her like a hawk. Worries about her. He loves her very much. So much so that you can't even imagine.
- Did he tell you this himself? - Laila asked ironically, hiding the last shoes in the box.
- Why talk? - Zubeyir was innocently surprised. - It can be seen.
- Zubeyir! - The voice of Nazlican was heard from the corridor, and she looked into the office. - Where are you! And I'm looking for you everywhere. Email does not send letters. Figure it out faster! The customer is waiting for the delivery schedule, but I cannot send it.
- I'll be right there, - the programmer muttered displeased and looked sideways at Laila with regret.
- Faster! - Nazlican stamped her foot.
- Yes, I'm going already!
Both disappeared outside the door. Laila straightened and rolled her eyes under her forehead. How this idiot got on her nerves! But she shouldn't turn him down. He may still come in handy.
Laila went to the door and carefully looked out into the corridor. It was empty. The concept director left for lunch, while the rest of the staff preferred to bypass his office. Away from sin and his stinging tongue. Laila slammed the door and, just in case, locked it from the inside. Then she took her purse and pulled out a small bottle and a napkin. From a pile of boxes, she took out the one in which lay open shoes decorated with large rhinestones. They were the ones that the model will wear first. Taking them out of the box, she admired the thin heels and graceful shape for a couple of seconds, and then poured oil on a napkin and quickly rubbed the smooth soles and heels. Imagining how an unsuspecting fool would stand in them on the glossy tiles tomorrow and turned around, Leila smiled maliciously. Maybe she'll be lucky and Omer's hated wife will crash down the stairs. And even lose the child or break her neck. And she herself will hurry up and console the grief-stricken widower. Yes, that would be ideal. But even if the naive fool only sprains an ankle, then this option also would be good. There is no time to look for a new model, but she is ideal by all parameters. And so, ta-da-da-dame! She, Lаila, will be the face of the Passionis brand! And then - Omer's mistress! The mistress of whom he is crazy and fulfills her slightest whims! Mentally imagining pictures of her triumph, Laila threw the napkin into the trash bin and hid the shoes back in the box. Putting it on top of a stack of exactly the same shoeboxes, she returned the bottle of oil back to her purse and rubbed her hands. One thing is done. Now the dress. She will never wear that rag that the stylists prepared together with the fool Defne. A century ago, a peasant's dream! Looking around the office, Lаila noticed a can of whipped cream on the countertop.
- Glutton Koray! What a darling you are! - clowning, she sang.
Taking the can in her hand and shaking it up, she unzipped the case, pulled it back a little, and launched a long stream of white, airy cream inside. Fastening the zipper, put the cream in the same place, glanced triumphantly around the office, and, grabbing her purse, went to the door.
She was lucky. There was not a single living soul in the corridor. The Nazlican place was also empty. The people in the common hall were busy with their own business. Laila, unnoticed, slipped into her office and, slamming the door behind her, danced in place. Pulling out her phone, she waved her finger across the screen and sang in a gleeful voice:
- Wow! It happened! Soon you and I will be rich and send daddy to hell with his boring sermons!
***
February was in a hurry to replace January, and the air already smelled of spring. This was especially felt in the park. Clouds scattered, the sun was shining brightly, and the sky took on the color of clear azure. Trees cheered up and nimble squirrels, fluffing their tails, ran along their gnarled trunks.
Omer bought a bag of nuts from a trader with a portable tray. Defne poured several pieces into her palm and held them out to the little, red-haired mischief. It looked warily at people with black beady eyes, and then jumped onto her palm and took a nut in her paws. Defne laughed softly, lightly stroked the orange fur coat, and cooed with it:
- Hello sister! Are you hungry? - The squirrel thrust a nut by the cheek and grabbed the second. - Eat, honey! And don't be afraid of me. I won't do anything bad to you. Just look at your pretty little face and stroke your tail.
Omer quietly stepped back, took his phone out of his pocket, and photographed this touching picture. Two redheads, cute to the point of impossibility, in one frame. The click of the camera alerted the squirrel. It looked at Omer, quickly stuffed another nut into its mouth, and ran off to the tree.
- Well, you scared off the beauty, - Defne reproached her husband. "It was the only one who dared to approach me."
- It felt a kindred spirit, - he joked. - The same redhead and mischievous.
- Laugh, laugh, - Defne allowed good-naturedly. - I'm kind today.
- You are always kind, - Omer kissed her temple and took her arm. - Let's go to the observation deck, and then to the restaurant. You are probably already hungry.
- Oh-oh-very, - she drawled plaintively.
"Then first to the restaurant, and then to the site," Omer replayed the plan.
At the restaurant, while waiting for an order, Defne turned to her husband.
- How do you like the new assistant? You've been working with her for three weeks. Has she messed up a lot during this time?
Omer shrugged.
- No, there were no mistakes, as such. Works fine. Praise be to Allah changed the perfume, and now I have no complaints about her.
- What? - Defne, who was drinking water at that moment, choked and coughed.
- Hush, hush, - Omer sat down on a chair next to her and patted on the back. Defne wiped off her tears with a napkin and looked at her husband in amazement. Completely not understanding her reaction, he asked: - What surprised you so much?
"Perfume," she replied. "It's strange to hear when you discuss another woman's perfume.
- What's so strange about it? She had terrible perfume. Suffocating. After she left the office, I had to open the window every time.
- And what made her change it? - Defne asked indifferently looking away.
Omer smiled.
- I can't say for sure, but in her presence, Koray asked why it stinks in my office and whether a mouse has died behind the cabinets, - Defne covered her mouth with her hand and chuckled. - And I answered that it was just a bad choice of perfume by one of the employees.
Defne broke down and burst out laughing.
"You were as delicate as an elephant," she said her husband. "But she deserves it. I don't know why, but I don't like this Laila of yours."
"She's not mine," Omer answered mechanically. - And in general, what is the topic? For once we have escaped for a walk, and instead of paying attention to each other we are discussing, I don't understand who! Let's talk about the baby room. Time is running out and it's time to start arranging it. What color of walls do you want?
- Gentle and soothing, - Defne smiled dreamily. - So that her eyes do not get tired. Maybe mint green? Or warm peach? And install tiny lamps on the ceiling. They will shine like stars and enchant our baby with their light.
- And a white fluffy carpet on the floor, - Omer supported her. - So soft, warm.
- White? - Defne laughed. - When she starts to crawl, it will turn gray in a week.
- Just think, - objected the loving daddy, - we'll throw it away and buy a new one.
"Crazy," Defne chided him affectionately and gently smoothed his black hair that was disheveled in the wind. - You will definitely spoil our daughter. It will be hard for me.
He caught her hand and kissed her palm. Then he pressed it to his cheek and looked into the shining eyes.
"Don't worry about it, my love. Our daughter will have your kind heart. We will love her very much. And, of course, we will pamper her too. But she will not become selfish. Because we will teach her to love.
"How beautiful you speak," Defne whispered, spellbound. - Will it be so? Yes?
"It will be so," Omer promised. A waiter came up to the table and began to place plates with ordered dishes on it. - And here are our fish and mussels. Eat! Don't starve the baby.
Defne smiled broadly and grabbed her fork.
***
Moaning, leaning, and complaining unknown to whom about fatigue, Koray entered his office and fell on the sofa. Yes, this is not how he imagined the life of the director. He thought it would be doing nothing, but as a result, he had to work hard. But he liked it! He didn't even want to gossip. But his legs hurt and he wanted to eat all the time. Even now, though he had lunch just a couple of hours ago.
"It's like my sugar has fallen," he muttered, searching for a bowl of food in a drawer. His hand groped for a chocolate bar. Fishing it out, he happily exclaimed: - Yes! There is! I will not die!
Having removed the wrapper from the chocolate, he was about to throw it into the trash can, and then a completely foreign object attracted his attention. On top of the lens boxes and cookie wrappers was a napkin translucent with grease. Taking it by the corner with disgust, Koray picked it up and sniffed. It smelled like olive oil.
- Where does the oil come from? He asked himself, dumbfounded. It's never been here.
Throwing the napkin back into the trash can, he spread his fingers and, grunting, went to wash his hands with soap and water.
***
The photo session of the Passionis spring collection took place in an old Istanbul hotel. It resembled a fairytale palace more than anything else and had a wide, curved staircase, framed by openwork railings. It was it that was supposed to become the backdrop for the photoshoot.
Omer and Defne arrived when work was already in full swing in the photo zone. Workers installed equipment and cannons for producing artificial snow. Assistants ran around with boxes and cases. All this process, as a conductor of the orchestra, was directed by Koray.
- Faster Faster! What are you like sleepy flies! Ozie, have you changed the lenses on your camera? Ugly, why are you running around with this box? It should have been in the room before a long time, which is allocated to the skinny girl for a dressing room! Bring it there quickly! - At this moment, the important director saw Iplikci entered and shouted at both: - And where do you go?! Skinny, get ready in the room faster! Everyone is already waiting for you!
- Okay, Mr. Koray! Don't worry, I'm going, "Defne reassured him and ran up the stairs."
Omer stopped, scrutinizing the preparations. And he could not find anything to complain about. Everything was ... perfect.
A make-up artist and a hairdresser were already waiting for Defne in the room reserved for a dressing room. Sitting her in a chair, both began to conjure over her image. A case with a dress hung on a hanger. When the hair and makeup were ready, the stylist entered the room. Complimenting Defne's beauty as he walked, he went to the case and unzipped it. The loud scream sounded so unexpected that those in the room jumped, and those outsides rushed to the sound. Omer burst into the room, followed by Koray and Sinan. The stylist stood with a face white as chalk and held in his hands a lilac dress, on which there were greasy streams of something creamy and smelling of vanilla. Everyone else, including Defne, stood with their mouths open from shock. Koray went to the dress, scooped up the substance with his finger, and licked it.
"Whipped cream," he announced confidently.
- Mr. Koray! - The stylist came out of prostration. - What difference does it make? The dress is ruined! What are we going to put on Mistress Defne?!
- Hush! - Sternly looking at the guy in a state of hysteria, ordered Omer. "Panic won't help us. Is this the only dress you've prepared?
"No," Defne replied instead. - There was also a blue one. But we have chosen this.
- Where is the blue dress? Omer asked.
- Here! - The stylist shouted joyfully. - I felt and took it with me.
He ran out of the door and returned a minute later with a pile of blue cloth in his hands. With a shake, he showed the dress to the bosses.
"Excellent in my opinion," Sinan said.
- In my opinion, too, - agreed on Omer.
"I also liked it better, but the stylists insisted on the lilac," Defne said.
"Then dress it up," Omer smiled at her. - We are waiting for you outside.
She came out a few minutes later. A real princess in an icy blue dress with a fluffy skirt and crystal-like open shoes. Smiling at her husband and friends, she stepped on the glossy, polished to a shine, mosaic floor tiles and felt the earth rapidly disappear from under her feet. With a frightened cry, she spread her arms out to the sides and flew backward.
Omer was in time. He rushed and at the last moment managed to pick her up in his arms. Holding her to his chest, he shouted in fright:
- Are you hurt? Does your stomach hurt?
"No," Defne replied, recovering. - You didn't let me fall. Nothing hurts.
- But how are you so careless? - Calming down, Omer rebuked her.
- I do not know. I just stepped on the tile and slipped like on butter.
Koray, who had regained his ability to move, narrowed his eyes warily and stepped closer. Taking Defne's ankle unceremoniously, he lifted her leg and looked at the sole of her shoe. She was shiny and smelled characteristic.
- Omyush, - he was indignant, - since when does your master smear the soles of his shoes with olive oil?
- Koray, what are you talking about?! Why would he do this?
- I do not know. But the soles are definitely greased with olive oil.
At the last words, he frowned and looked at Laila who was standing to the side. She hurried to turn away, but he noticed an evil fire blazing in her eyes.
"Okay, nothing happened," Defne said. - I'm fine. Let's start shooting.
- Wait, - Omer said without letting go of her and turned to the boy running past - Ozi, go to the bar quickly and bring any strong alcohol and a towel.
"Soak it with whiskey and rub the soles of the shoes well," Omer ordered.
The boy followed the order. Omer put Defne on her feet and said:
- Make a step.
Defne cautiously walked across the glittering tiles and smiled.
- Now is good. Not slippery.
- Then get to work! - He clapped his hands and then bent to his wife's ear. - Please be careful. I'm near.
She closed her eyes and nodded.
When Defne and Koray left, Omer turned to Sinan.
- Do you understand what this means?
- Understand.
"Notify Internal Security. This bastard must be found and punished."
- We'll find it, brother! Do not worry. We'll get it out of the ground.
Laila stood behind the bosses and felt her soul sink into her heels. Security service. Camcorders. Heck! And why are these bosses so suspicious! Couldn't they have assumed an accident? Such a plan failed!
Spinning on her heels, she ran to the only person who could help her now.
The beautiful princess walked gracefully up the stairs. The heels of the crystal slippers banged on the steps, and snowflakes fell on top of her. The princess caught them with her palms and smiled a happy smile. The camera lens clicked non-stop and compliments to the Princess's beauty were flying from the photographer's lips just as non-stop.
And at the base of the stairs stood the Prince. He looked at his Princess with a gaze in which love mingled with tenderness and awareness of the Miracle. In a huge world, he found his Cinderella. And now, for the rest of her life, she is his!
And suddenly the princess froze. Listening to something only she could hear, she smiled touchingly and pressed her palms to her stomach.