Tranba was waiting for him in the deserted corridor, which led to the elevator. He stood with a bored look, legs wide apart and hands clasped in his trouser pockets. Realizing that to pass by, pretending that he had not noticed his constant rival, would look at least implausible, Omer sighed and stopped.

"I'm listening to you, Denise."

"Do you love her so much?" - asked Tranba.

Omer was surprised not so much by the question as to the tone it was asked. Ordinary malice and bravado disappeared. He spoke ... normally. And he looked like a man whose world was turned upside down. Omer looked into his eyes and answered:

- So much.

Tranba shook his head in disbelief.

- I don't believe it. This doesn't happen. For a man, business is always more important than a woman.

Omer smiled wryly.

- Until a certain moment, it is. But when you meet Her ... everything changes. There is nothing more important than love, Denise.

Tranba intensely scanned Omer's face, as if he wanted to find traces of falsehood there. But they were not there.

"Why are you revealing the cards and telling me the truth?"

"Because you ask openly." No catch, "Omer answered.

Denise bowed his head, and then from under his eyebrows looked Omer in the eye and firmly declared:

"I will not yield to you Defne."

"She is already mine," he answered confidently.

"She wants a divorce," Tranba reminded him.

- She is mistaken. There will be no divorce.

- You're so sure?

- Absolutely!

Tranba laughed hoarsely and returned his usual ironic-mocking expression to his face.

"You're still the same arrogant man." And I thought that Defne was able to change you. But there are no miracles. ... Okay, I wanted to tease you and specifically put it wrong. To paraphrase my words: I will not yield Defne to Passionis. Her talent belongs to Tranba.

"Defne herself will make this decision," Omer muttered through gritted teeth.

"You're right," Denise agreed. "But I will do my best to choose Tranba."

"But you understand that I will do my best for Defne to return to Passionis?" - countered Omer.

Tranba grinned and declared:

- She won't be back.

- You're so sure? Omer repeated the question that Denise had previously asked him.

"Absolutely," Denise repeated his answer. - In Tranba Defne is an independent designer, personality, star. But if she returns to Passionis, she will again become your application, your shadow. Current Defne will not want this.

Omer's chest tightened painfully. He never looked at Defne from such an angle, but now he understood that Denise was right and that was why he wanted to slap his smug physiognomy.

And before, and now he was seeing her as part of himself, and he did not want to change anything. She is his Defne, his soul, his ... she is just his!

He straightened up and asked coldly:

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

Tranba mockingly bent eyebrows.

"You hint that the conversation about Defne is over?" - Omer did not answer, he just looked firmly. - Good, I get it. I change the topic. Thanks to a certain designer in love, Tranba and Passionis will now have to work together. And we have very little time. It is necessary to immediately organize a meeting and develop a work plan.

"At three in the afternoon, in Passionis," Omer rapped out. He walked around Tranba and headed straight for the elevator.

Denise looked after him, smiled ironically, and headed for his office. Near the assistant's desk, he paused for a second and gave the order:

"Ruya, call Defne." Let her come in immediately. And also warn Kivanc and Seda that at three we have a meeting in Passionis. You come too.

"Good, Mr. Denise," the girl answered in a flat, emotionless voice. - Mr. Kivanc wanted to see you. What should I answer him?

"Later," Tranba answered without hiding his annoyance. - First I need to talk with Defne.

As soon as the cabinet door closed, Talat appeared in the reception room. Ignoring the assistant, he arrogantly lifted his chin and contemptuously twisting his lips, walked straight to the office of the big boss.

- Mr. Kivanc, wait! Ruya blocked his path. "Mr. Denise will speak with Defne, and then he will receive you."

- What? - Talat's eyes filled with fury.

The girl shrugged.

- This is his order. Even Mr. Denise asked me to inform you that at three o'clock we have a meeting at Passionis.

The furious Kivanc turned sharply and went to his place. Malice choked him. This upstart Defne, who worked for only a week here, pushed aside him and the Kivanc models. Received the title of the best designer in Turkey. For what? For her beautiful eyes? And everyone, including Tranba, jumps around her and you can only hear: Defne! Defne!

Тhey found a Queen, right!

How he hated her. Even more than her husband. Hated and wanted.

And he always got what he wanted.

***

Defne entered Denise Tranba's office and stopped near the long table for visitors, which was perpendicular to the boss's table.

"Mr. Denise, did you want to talk to me?"

He pointed to a chair with his hand.

- Have a seat.

Defne sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. She didn't want Tranba to notice the trembling of her fingers and understand how emotionally agitated and defenseless she is now.

- Defne, I want to talk about our contract. To be honest, I did not expect such a result.

"Me too," Defne muttered and sighed.

"The victory of both firms," continued Tranba, "brought confusion." We did not foresee such an outcome and did not introduce the corresponding clause in the contract.

Well, yes ... they didn't.

- And what do you suggest? Asked Defne.

Confident and firmly. Tranba was even taken aback. Where is that naive, emotional girl who has all her feelings written on her face? Before him sat a cold, unflappable stranger with an impenetrable face and a straight, full of proud dignity, posture. You cannot deceive such a person. And he answered honestly:

"I agree to close your debt if you sign a three-year contract with Tranba."

"For a year," Defne calmly advanced a counterclaim.

Tranba shook his head in amazement.

- You have changed. Where did the cute, gullible and shy kitten go?

"Grew up," Defne answered.

- Oh yeah! - agreed Tranba. - Grew up and turned into a proud and strong lioness. And I appreciate it! Therefore, I make concessions and offer a contract for two years and the salary is twice as high as now. Plus a percentage of the sales of all the collections you created.

"I have one more demand," Defne said firmly.

"Speak," Denise agreed immediately.

"You will give Seda a loan as soon as possible."

He made a mistake.

Defne has not changed. Yes, she became more mature and more confident in herself and her strength, but her heart remained the same as before - huge and ready to help everyone in need. And for this, he respected her even more. He did not know-how.

- Good, Defne. I should not write down this clause in our contract with you. I will immediately give a loan to Seda.

"And two days off at her request," the girl intensified the pressure.

- I agree with this. But in response, you give all your best and draw awesome collections. I want to return the positions won by Passionis.

Defne thought for a moment. The conditions were more than good. First, debt disappears. Secondly, with such a salary, she will be able to repay Omer the money for the Topal family home. She can help her family, rent a decent apartment and move out of the present, which she does not like at all. She can help Seda. In the end - she can do what she loves. True, there is still Kivanc Talat with his lustful glances and anger, but where is no guarantee that such as Talat will not be in another workplace? And of course, Omer and Passionis. Her love and weakness. Well, being a competitor is not a crime. She will do her job, and let Omer do his own.

She raised an impenetrable glance at Trаnba and asked:

"Can I show the contract to my lawyer?"

Denise was not even surprised that Defne doesn't take words on faith and wants to protect herself. He nodded in agreement and answered:

- Of course. "I am not modest, Defne," Tranba said ironically. "But you already know it." Therefore, I did not wait for your consent and ordered the legal department to immediately prepare a contract. You can show it to your lawyer today.

"It would be great," Defne agreed, ignoring his words of modesty. "I'm meeting him tonight." Mr. Denise, I will have a request. Can I take unpaid leave tomorrow for half a day? Tomorrow morning I need to be in court.

- Your divorce case? Defne nodded silently. "Don't you think you are making a big mistake?"

The composure so carefully kept on her face slipped from his words. Did they, these men, decide to shock her today?

"And you tell me this?" The man who considers Omer his enemy? -with widely amazed eyes asked Defne.

Tranba looked away. His fingers drummed a simple melody on the countertop. After a brief silence, he spoke:

- Well, the enemy is too pathetic. Let's just say - a competitor who is very annoying to me, - Denise grinned ironically. But the next second his face became serious. "Yesterday it would never have occurred to me to say such a thing." But today ... today I saw something that I had never met before and considered all these conversations about real love as fantasies of teenagers far from reality. But hell, when a self-confident, strong man for the sake of a woman renounces his success ... this is no longer a fantasy. This is probably ... that same love. Think about it, Defne.

***

Omer nervously examined the meeting room for the hundredth time. The air conditioner is turned on at a comfortable temperature. Hard chairs were replaced with comfortable chairs with soft seats. In the middle of the table is water in narrow glass bottles. Nearby are thin tall glasses. There are Italian cookies in earthenware plates (if suddenly Defne gets hungry and wants to have a bite ... although Koray most likely eats it), and most importantly, name cards. Hearing from Mr. Iplikci that they need to be printed and fixed on the backs of chairs, and even in a certain order, Derya stared but did not argue with the excited boss. She nodded silently and set off to obey the order. Leaving the room, she raised her eyebrows and shook her head in amazement. It looks like the boss is quite moved by love.

But Omer did not care who what thinks. The meeting should be productive. To do this, Defne should sit next to him, and this blond-haired moron Kivanc Talat - on the other side of the table.

- OU! Exclaimed the incoming Sinan. - Do we welcome Tranba or an English delegation?

"Don't be a jerk," Omer stopped him. "Tranba or other guests, what's the difference." We, as hosts, must provide them with comfort.

- Yes Yes! - Sinan said cheerfully.

Iz came into the room, and Koray followed her. The latter's eyes lit up from the sight of the cookies, and he headed straight for the table.

- Koray! Omer called out sternly. - Leave the cookies alone. At least until the meeting begins.

The photographer pouted his lips resentfully, and Derya, who neatly laid out paper on the table, giggled. Koray bumped into her and started to shout:

- And-and-and! She laughs! Ugly. Your forehead is like a tower. Did she lay eyes on cookies? And don't even dream! You are an assistant - sit and write down what I will say. I! I am Koray Sargin! All of Turkey knows me. Everyone wants to hear me ...

"Koray, shut your mouth and take your place," Sinan interrupted him, and the photographer's righteous anger now fell upon him.

- Sinan, you envy me? - He proudly walked to the chair with his name. And he saw a catastrophe - the name on the nearby chair. His face twisted in a grimace. - What is it? Will I sit next to the nasty man? Omuus !!!

"Koray, stop the tantrum," Omer commanded imperiously. "Or take a seat at the end of the table next to Derya."

Koray glanced at the slyly smiling assistant and sat down with a hurt expression on his face.

Tranba entered the office, and Talat and Defne with Seda followed him. When Omer saw his wife, he stood up and nervously adjusted his shirt cuffs.

"Welcome," he gestured to the chairs. - Have a seat.

Scanning each other with gazes, both teams, Tranba and Passionis, began to sit in the allotted seats. Omer pushed back his chair and helped Defne sit down. His fingers touched her hand and, for a moment lingering, gently stroked the tender skin of her wrist. She held her breath and scaredly looked around - if anyone had noticed such liberties of Omer, and then squinted at him with a stern look. He just smiled wryly.

Seda's place was next to Sinan. They sat at the table and smiled at each other in a completely civilized and welcoming manner. That can't be said about Iz and Tranba. Sparks flew in different directions from their mockingly insolent glances. Koray, contemptuously pursing his lips, squinted examined Kivanc and, risking breaking a chair, noisily moved away from him. He turned red and turned away from the shameless photographer. Derya watched the bosses with burning curiosity, Ruya - calmly. Both sat side by side at the end of the table and pretended not to notice each other.

Omer nodded to Sinan and he opened the meeting. After his first words in the office, hostilities began. Tranba's team met with hostility the proposals of Passionis, who in turn criticized the ideas of competitors. Kivanc insolent tried to push through his work and vision of the concept. Iz criticized them to the nines and rightly remarked that spoiled Europe does not need battered clichés, but creativeness, style, and identity. And let Mr. Talat not be offended, but in his designs, as well as in ideas, this is not close. Kivanc, crimson with anger, sourly asked if Mademoiselle Iz herself had any ideas or experience working in such events.

The girl replied that there was no experience, but there was an idea, which Talat only grunted contemptuously. Tranba unexpectedly supported the girl's words and offered to voice her vision. Everyone liked her ideas, except for the offended Kivanc. Even Defne. And although the appearance of Iz in Passionis was the most painful blow for her, now she couldn't help but acknowledge that her presence was a great success for the company. It may be true that Omer took her to work as a professional, and not as an ex-girl, to whom he had feelings. Although ... the first does not exclude the second.

Omer sensitively grasped the moment when Defne suddenly subsided and then sighed sadly. He didn't know what she was thinking, but these thoughts disturbed her. And that means him too. Or is she tired?

He raised his hand and the voices immediately died down.

"Gentlemen, ladies, let's take a break and have some coffee." Derya, get busy," he ordered the assistant. "Make tea for Defne." Weak with two tablespoons of sugar.

- Smoothie for me! From strawberries! - clapped hands Koray, but Omer cut short his delight.

"Koray, we're going to take a ten-minute coffee break, not a party." You will make yourself smoothies in the evening at home.

- Then why tea for the skinny girl? - the photographer was indignant.

Omer had an irresistible desire to strangle him. He had already opened his mouth to stop Koray, who was deprived of delicacy, as cool fingers touched his hand and Defne said:

- Derya, I will also have coffee. Let me help you make it. - She got up from her chair.

"Ruya will help," Tranba intervened, showing with his whole appearance that making coffee was not the responsibility of the lead designer. Defne silently sat back.

Omer gritted his teeth. He understood that Denise was the boss of Defne, but the fact that she was obliged to obey his orders infuriated him. No one, no man in the world has the right to order his wife!... Except for himself. Derya brought coffee. Omer laid a pair of cookies on the edge of Defne's saucer and ordered:

"Eat," she wanted to be indignant, but Omer strictly reminded: "Forgot what the doctor said?"

Defne silently took the cracker and angrily bit a corner. She chewed on delicate, crispy cookies and had no taste at all. Anger bubbled inside. These damn men got on her nerves. They turn her around like a doll, and everyone expects her to obediently bounce with every click of their fingers. This must stop! She will learn to say firmly "NO!" Especially to Omer.

Her angry look caught on to another, sympathetic and understanding. Seda smiled at her encouragingly and winked. Defne's heart warmed and her anger subsided. For some reason, the realization that others at times experience such feelings calmed up her nerves.

"Sorry." Omer's warm breath touched her ear. He spoke very quietly, and from the low, vibrating sound of his voice, Defne's hands were covered with goosebumps. - When it comes to your health and well-being, I get a little crazy.

Defne nodded and, without looking at him, answered equally quietly:

- I'm fine.

And she looked down into her cup of coffee.

And why should he worry about her health?

Either coffee had a magical effect, or both teams finally realized that they were in the same boat and success depends on a compromise, but after the break, work went more productively. Seda supplemented the ideas of Iz with her own, and between the girls, there was such a necessary understanding at a glance. One started the thought, the second picked up. From time to time, Koray wedged between them, and, if we put aside the monologues about his genius and the endless crunch of the cookies eaten by him, his proposals were very interesting. An hour later, the general concept was ready.

"Now it's up to the designers," Sinan drew the line and turned to Omer and Defne. - You must decide on the models by the end of the week. And then we will have enough time to make samples, shoot the catalog and prepare for the presentation. But you cannot lose a minute.

"Mr. Sinan is right," leaning back in his chair, Kivanc Talat complacently declared. - Mr. Omer, I am ready to start work immediately.

"I will work with Mrs. Defne," Omer answered calmly.

- What? - Kivanc was taken aback. His smug expression gave way to an idiotic grimace.

"She is the author of the models, Mr. Talat, and not you," Omer explained his position firmly.

- Denise! Cried Kivanc.

"Mr. Denise," Tranba corrected him, and the crimson redness on Talat's face gave way to a bluish pallor. - Mr. Omer is right. The drawings of the models belong to Defne ...

"Madame Defne," Omer corrected him.

"Madame Defne," agreed on Trumba. - It is for her to continue working on the project.

Talat fell silent. He just looked at Defne with undisguised hatred. This look of his shook coldly in Omer's chest. For a moment he was scared. But then, fear was replaced by determination - he would not allow Defne to suffer from this hatred. Until the festival itself, he will follow along on her heels, and then he will do the impossible, to take her away from Tranba.

To his company, to his home, to his life.