Defne sat on a neatly made bed and bit her lips thoughtfully. Her eyes returned to the ring finger of her left hand. The ring shone with a warm, golden light in the sun. Defne stroked it and frowned. Ring. One ring. Omer put only one ring on her finger. She tried not to think about it for two days. Fortunately, it was not at all difficult. Omer did not give her a single free minute. Not a step away. Showered her with caresses and kisses. He loved her to exhaustion and demanded her undivided attention every minute and every second. He would still be nearby, and most likely the bed would not have looked so neat if Sinan had not called him on a very important issue. He went out onto the veranda, and she decided to go upstairs and collect their things. The boat will arrive for them in an hour and it was necessary to hurry.

But putting their clothes in their suitcase, she kept staring at the ring finger of her left hand. And uncertainty raised its head again. Why did Omer decide not to return his mom's ring to her finger? Doubts entered her head, but she resolutely fought them back. Omer loves her. He proved it in hundreds of different ways...

- My love!!! A velvet voice rumbled somewhere in the house. - Where are you?!

- Here! She answered. - In the bedroom!

Quick steps were heard and Omer burst into the room. Smiling, he tumbled down next to Defne on the bed and put an arm around her shoulders. Having buried his nose in her temple, he kissed a warm cheek and informed his wife:

- I miss you.

- So quickly? She answered mockingly and raised her face to him.

- Quickly?! I haven't seen you for twenty minutes! - His lips, leaving wet traces, moved to the corner of her mouth. - I missed you ... I missed you, - the lips continued their movement, kissed the tip of the nose, eyes, forehead. After each kiss, he whispered: - I can't breathe without you ... I can't live ... my love...

Defne wrapped her arms around his head and pushed him away from her. She looked into his eyes so piercingly, with such excruciating hope that Omer was frightened. What else did his wife think of for herself?

- Defne? He called.

"You really love me so much," she asked, and her huge, amber eyes looked straight into his soul.

- So much. Even more than that," Omer answered firmly. "How can I not love you?" You are so tender and beautiful. - He touched a finger to her lips. "When you're not with me, it's dark and cold." And when you smile at me, here, - he touched his chest with his hand, - the light turns on. It is so powerful that it drives the darkness out of my heart...

When in your hair, - Omer gently pulled at the red curl, - the sun gets confused and they sparkle - I fall into a stupor. And I can do nothing else but admire ... When you look at me sweetly with your amber eyes, - he took turns kissing the outer corners of her eyes, - I am dying of happiness. And when you say that you love me ... I feel like a King.

Defne caught her breath and the heart in her chest pounded like crazy.

"You are a King," she said hoarsely. - My king...

She pressed her lips to his mouth and Omer closed his eyes from piercing, incomparable pleasure. Defne loves him. That is happiness.

The phone began to buzz in his pocket. Both Omer and Defne sighed in disappointment - the outside world invaded their isolated paradise and reminded that it was time to return.

"Yes, Jean ... we're ready." We'll be there in ten minutes," the confident and powerful Omer Iplikci answered the call. But another one turned to Defne - loving and warm. He smiled with sincere regret and said:

- It's time, my love. The boat is waiting for us.

"But," Defne objected perplexedly, "I did not manage to collect all our things.

"Leave them," Omer pulled her hand. - They will collect everything and deliver it home. Do not think about it.

Defne did not argue. She dutifully followed her husband. And only on the threshold stopped and looked around. Inside this room was the happiest night of her life. A night that carried away all fears and doubts. The night that gave her the seventh heaven. She looked at her left hand and shook her head. It doesn't matter! Omer knows what he's doing. If he does not want his mom's ring back on her finger, then so it should be. The main thing is that he loves her. The rest doesn't matter.

Istanbul met a young family with rain. It started suddenly when the boat was already moored to the pier. The sea from blue and tender in an instant turned into gray. Large drops hit the billowing waves and large bubbles appeared at the site of the impact.

"To bad weather," Defne recalled grandmother's words and smiled. Even if there are falling stones from the sky, she doesn't care. She is happy!

Sukru, with a big umbrella in his hands, was waiting for them on the pier. Seeing the boss and his wife, he immediately rushed to cover them, but still, Omer and Defne, while getting out of the boat, managed to get pretty wet. In the car, Omer hugged his wife by the shoulders and ordered the driver to turn on the heating and drive quickly.

- Defne is wet. God forbid to get cold, - he added alarmed, to which Defne herself only laughed and whispered a reminder in his ear - illness does not cling to happy people. Omer broke into a smile and kissed her temple. But at home, barely crossing the threshold, he grabbed her in his arms and carried her into the shower, under hot water. In less than ten minutes, not only the water became hot in the bathroom...

And then Omer lighted the fireplace in the living room and sat Defne, dressed in one silk shirt, on a spread fluffy rug. He dried her hair, passed it through his fingers, combed and kissed each curl. When they dried up and turned into fire silk, for a long time he fingered them and admired the reflection of the fire in the wavy curls, touched them with his cheek and enjoy their tenderness. But Defne thought - she went to heaven, where it is warm and calm. Where gentle hands and lips give bliss. Where the fire does not burn. Where ice cream is sweet, like nectar, and wine is strong and heady. A paradise where tenderness burns in dark eyes. Where you can touch the love with your fingertips, breathe deeply, taste it. And even a gloomy, bachelor's house today was favorable toward her, albeit with arrogant cordiality. Defne for the first time did not feel here as an intruder of the order and style. What did Omer say? He laughed infectiously, like a boy, and invited her to describe the house of her dreams. She laid her head on his lap and fulfilled his request with a touching smile.

- It should be spacious and bright. With high ceilings and huge windows. And so that the floors are not cold stone, but a warm tree. Тhe kitchen should be large and comfortable. Such, where there is enough room for everyone ..., - Omer smiled and removed a lock of hair from her forehead. He listened, memorizing every word. And Defne continued to voice her dreams: - I want a fireplace in the living room, and front of it are two rocking chairs, covered with checkered rugs. And so that the room has floor-to-ceiling windows, light curtains, lots of soft sofas and flowers.

- And our bedroom? Omer asked hoarsely.

Impatient fingers stroking her face, neck, collarbone. Long, beautifully shaped, they easily touched porcelain skin. His, not covered by clothes, strong chest was heaving rhythmically and high. Defne stroked it and, raising a mocking eyebrow, replied:

"The main thing is to have a large bed," Omer threw back his head and laughed briskly. And Defne again returned to a dreamy tone: - Well, still the walls not to be gloomy, airy curtains, a large balcony hung with flowers.

Dressing table with a mirror in an old frame, fluffy carpet on the floor. Large dressing room. One for two. In the mornings, we will help each other get dressed.

Now Omer arched an eyebrow. Incredulously.

"Darling, I doubt that after my help you will find yourself dressed," he warned, and his hand slipped past the neckline of her shirt.

Defne gently hit it and sarcastically answered:

- It is assumed that at that moment you will be a satiated lazy cat.

- I??? - Omer was surprised and continued with absolute certainty: - My love, this is impossible. For a hundred years I can't get enough of you. And, believe me, I never and for nothing will miss a single chance to love you.

With the swiftness and flexibility of a predator, he made only one movement, and Defne was pressed to the rug under his body. In black eyes, a flame lit up and with every millisecond it became stronger. It flared up and turned into a fire.

"As it is now," he said in a low, soft as velvet voice, and reached out to kiss Defne.

Thin fingers pressed against his lips. Defne looked a little sly, but her eyes shone like honey in the sun. Smiling at the corner of her mouth, she stopped him:

"I haven't talked about other rooms yet."

Omer sighed in disappointment and, resting on his elbows, raised his torso. Resigning himself to the delay, he allowed:

- Tell me.

Defne smiled. In her eyes began to play sun glare. Or maybe it was a reflection of the fire in the fireplace ... or happiness and hope?

"There should be at least three of them," she said. - Spacious, bright and warm. Pink or blue is not important. Then we repaint...

The fire in Omer's eyes took on unprecedented proportions.

"You ... do you agree?" - Even before the end, not believing that he understood it correctly, he asked.

- Do you ask? She answered and pulled his head to her.

The fire swept the whole world.

***

- What is my beloved wife doing?

Immersed in the work, Defne flinched and looked up. Omer, shining with a smile, he by no means shouldn't be here now, entered her office.

"What are you doing here?" - She was surprised and turned her cheek for a kiss. "Shouldn't you be at a meeting with investors right now?"

"I escaped," he answered frivolously and kissed the exposed cheek, then her lips. - I told Sinan that I have a very urgent matter and let him cope without me.

"Ahhh," Defne shook her head. "And when did this honest and principled Omer Iplikci learn to lie?"

"I didn't lie at all," Omer sat down on the table and pulled her by the curl. - I have an urgent matter. I didn't see my wife for four hours and I missed you. Maybe let's go have lunch?

Defne looked at her watch and answered.

- In ten minutes. It is not a lunch break yet. I can't break discipline and leave earlier. She raised a regretful face to her husband. Omer sighed. He was fed up with these restrictions around his Defne. - Darling, after Milan, you apply for dismissal and return to Passionis?

He looked with such hope that at Defne everything broke off inside. And how to tell him? But there is still no choice. She is no longer Defne, who is afraid and dodges. She is no longer the bird that lies.

"I cannot leave Tranba," she admitted honestly.

- Why? - Omer was taken aback. He did not expect such an answer at all.

- I have a contract. For two years, - Defne explained.

Omer's face darkened. He jumped to his feet and swept around the office. Three steps. Wall. U-turn. Six steps. Wall. U-turn. Three steps. Half turn. An angry look at the calm and not guilty face of his wife. Furious voice charge.

"Defne, how could you be so stupid?" Why did you sign a contract? And even for two years?

"Calm down," Defne nodded to the chair on the other side of the table. - Sit down.

Omer obeyed. But black eyes threw a lightning and Defne seemed to see the steam coming from his ears. Yes, some things have never changed at all. For example, the temper of Omer and his anger, which flared up in a split second. That is why she must now be calm and reasonable.

"Do you remember the two hundred thousand that your aunt gave me for cheating with love for rent?" - Omer nodded warily. - I gave them to her. But the debt has not gone away. Fikret lent me the money, and Tranba gave it to her. For choosing his company, and not Passionis for cooperation in her defile. The one you and Sinan ruined. Tranba demanded a return of debt from Fikret and she from me. So I ended up here. Mr. Denise proposed a deal - if I can win the competition for the festival my debt will be canceled. I agreed.

And, thanks to a certain brilliant strategist, I turned out to be both a winner and a loser. A strange situation that was not foreseen by the previously signed contract. Tranba proposed to sign a new one, according to which the debt is still canceled, but I have to work for two years for his company. This is the story.

Omer sat as though crestfallen. Debt. Two hundred thousand about which he knew, but considered something abstract. And the money was real and the real Defne had to give it back. His Defne. Weak after the coma. Lonely. Unemployed ... And he again turned out to be aside from her problems.

"I will return the money to Denise, we will break the contract, and you will return to Passionis," Omer resolutely declared.

"No," Defne protested calmly.

- What do you mean "no"?! Cried Omer. "Defne, did you decide to drive me crazy?"

"No means no," Defne's tone hardened. "I do not want to leave Tranba and return to Passionis."

- Why?!

He punched the table. Unable to sit still, he was ready to get to his feet again, but Defne's small hand covered his fist, and he remained seated.

"Please understand me," she asked. "If I return to Passionis, I will become your shadow, your continuation." Dissolve in you again ... become a habit. I do not want it. I want to be the person whom you can respect. You can be proud.

- Defne, what are you saying? Shadow, habit? What nonsense. Are we not one? - Omer turned his palm squeezed her fingers. "I love you, and you will always be the most important person for me."

"You still don't understand," Defne removed her hand and shook her head. She sat up straight in her chair and said firmly: "I will not return to Passionis as a shoe designer." End.

She waited for him to break loose, slam the door, to stop talking to her. Omer from the past would do just that. But the current Omer took her hand and pulled her out of the office.

"Let's go to lunch," he grumbled. "Ten minutes have long passed."

***

Omer sat in his office and stared blankly out the window. Before him lay a report that should be carefully studied, but after a dozen attempts to read the first paragraph, he abandoned fruitless attempts. Defne's words that she would not return to Passionis as a shoe designer were stuck in his head and were turning around in his brain. Will not return as a shoe designer ... a shoe designer ... a shoe. Will not return ... No! It's impossible. He will not leave her there. And it's not even that this is Tranba's company. For some time now he began to look at Denise with different eyes. But there is Kivanc Talat. An envious, narcissistic bastard who looks at Defne incorrectly and allows himself to raise his voice at her.

The door slammed. Satisfied Sinan, singing а halai, with a dance step entered the office and fell into the visitor chair.

- It happened! He reported. Investors are interested in the project, and they agree to put money in the charity show.

"Fine," Omer nodded restrainedly. - Tranba did not put sticks in the wheels?

- Not. He was only surprised that you did not come to such an important meeting. And then in a conversation with investors, he was very convincing. By the way, they are pleased that this is a joint project and there will be no war and tug of war between Passionis and Tranba. And so their risks are minimized," Sinan grinned. - It turns out that peace and cooperation with competitors are more beneficial than the Cold War.

"Hm-m yes," Omer agreed thoughtfully.

He ran a hand through his hair at the nape, then stroked his beard and scratched his mustache over the corner of his mouth. Sinan watched his manipulations with increasing anxiety. He knew his friend very well and knew that such gestures are a sign of nervousness. But where is it from and what is it connected with? After all, everything is in order. Preparations for the Milan shoe festival are in full swing, and the presentation of the winter collection is also underway. The charity show takes on real features. Omer made peace with his wife and no further, as this morning he shone with a well-fed smile, like a cat overeating sour cream.

- Brother, what are you thinking about? - Leaving the humorous tone, Sinan seriously took an interest in Omer staring at one point.

He shook his head and looked inquiringly at his partner.

"Sinan, do you think it's time for us to grow?"

- What does it mean to grow? - his friend wondered.- We are already growing. We have opened a store. The sales level for all items is excellent...

"I'm talking about something else," Omer interrupted. - Maybe we should look in other directions? Not just shoes. The wider the assortment, the stronger the firm stands on its feet.

Sinan's eyes went wide. This crazy Iplikci knows how to surprise.

- Have you decided to do design in other areas? - he asked.

Omer shook his head.

- These are just thoughts and ideas. But I want to know how you look at it.

Sinan shrugged and scratched his head thoughtfully. He spread his arms and answered:

- You are the master of surprises. What do I think? I think it's normal. But you need to specify the idea and me to calculate the risks.

"Later," Omer smiled faintly and bit his lower lip. Sinan is right. But to concretize the thought, one still needs to find out which way to move and which area of design is interesting for his stubborn, obstinate, but such an infinitely beloved wife.

In the following days, he tried to find out. He supplied fashion magazines for her and not very delicate tried to found out if Defne wants to change or improve something in the images of models? Clothes, accessories. Or maybe she wants to draw something of her own? To which Defne only shrugged indifferently.

She was not interested in either clothes or handbags. And in the hats, she was not interested either.

For some reason, her thoughts circled around the ring. She reconciled to the fact that the ring of Omer's mother would not return to her finger. She herself, not knowing why, but she was sure of it. And accepted it. But secretly dreamed of a ring that she would like to see on her hand. And even tried to draw. Warm gold and a square ruby surrounded by a scattering of diamonds. It turned out pretty well. She admired her work and stuck it in a pile of rejected drawings.