The last meeting before the trip to Milan was drawing to a close. The execution of the schedule for all points was checked and double-checked. No unforeseen circumstances were expected, and company executives were pleased with the work done.

Only one person threw a tantrum. Having learned that they were not going to take him to Milan, Koray began to demonstrate his proprietary methods of persuasion - sobbing with howls, imitation of a heart attack and unflattering characterization of each of the bosses.

He didn't pass by Tranba either. And he got a "stupid" tail, and voice, and the manner of smiling. Omer and Sinan, accustomed to such performances, only frowned and patiently waited for the end of the show, but the shocked Deniz could not stand it and, not believing what he was talking about, remarked that the photographer in Milan would not be superfluous. Advertising of both companies in the context of such a serious event is a great opportunity to gain a foothold at the Olympus for the Turkish shoe and make a name in Europe. And for this, they need more quality photos.

Koray, like a huge inflatable ball, jumped in place, clapped his hands and dropped a whole waterfall of compliments on Tranba's dazed head. It turned out that the ponytail on the male head is stylish and, in general, the last cry of fashion. And the voice is not squeaky, but noble and refined. And the smile is not idiotic at all, but very charming. The girls at the table, with their hands over their mouths, squealed with laughter, Omer looked at Tranba with incredulous astonishment, and Sinan touched his long-suffering ears, which so often fell into the tongue of the talkative photographer, and asked:

"And if I agree, will you sing praises to me?"

- I will! I will! My big-eared friend!

Everyone except Omer rolled in laughter. He just raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"You agreed." Then do not cry.

- And-and-and! Koray measured him with a scornful look. "Boring, cold man... skinny girl, how do you live with this bore?"

"I live well, Koray," the laughing Defne looked at her husband. His eyes warmed and sparkled with tenderness.

These glances were liked by Koray. He laid his chin on his fist and looked expectantly at the spouses.

- Well? Come on a kiss or something!

- Koray, stop it! Omer shouted at him. - Go to Derya, let her order a ticket for you. We are flying on Wednesday morning flight.

He did not have to repeat it. The photographer was blown away like a wind. His large body slipped between chairs with unprecedented ease and disappeared behind the door. Omer breathed a sigh of relief and addressed the others:

- And so, Milan is waiting for us. Wednesday - preparation of the stands and shop window. Thursday, Friday and Saturday - a fair where we have to work hard and on Sunday - a big reception at the Grand Hotel. Return tickets are booked on Monday. But Defne and I will stay in Italy for a week. I know that after Milan a huge front of work is planned, but we still have a honeymoon. And this is unfair.

Defne opens her mouth in surprise and shook her head.

- Mmmm honeymoon? She asked stuttering.

Omer gently squeezed her hand and answered:

- Honeymoon. But don't ask about anything now.

She nodded and smiled delightedly in response. Allah is all-merciful! And Koray still asked if she was bored with Omer. Which is boring? She lives in a kaleidoscope of surprises!

Sinan and Seda warmly supported the idea of Omer. Interrupting each other, they chattered that the young family needed to relax and be alone. Iz squinted at Deniz. He smiled broadly and looked very pleased. The girl, expecting to see anger and jealousy, looked away in confusion. What is it that turns out, the man whom she fell in love without looking back and was wildly jealous of the wife of her ex-boyfriend, does not have tender feelings for Defne? But what happened yesterday? And how can she understand this ironic Mr. Temptation? How tired she was of these thoughts! Turn them off ... for an hour at least.

"Another topic," continued Omer. -A new jewelry company. Joint project Passionis and Tranba. I have a preliminary agreement with Ahtem Minibaev. He agrees to make jewelry according to Defne's sketches in his workshop. I think it will be fair if for this he receives his percentage of shares in the new company.

- Ahtem Minibaev? - clarified Sinan. - Is that the Crimean Tatar with whom you studied in Italy?

"Yes, that one." Now he lives and works in Istanbul. He has a workshop in the Sariyer district. So what do you think about his partnership with the new company? Do you agree?

Sinan nodded in the affirmative. Tranba, drumming his fingers on the table, thoughtfully said:

- The production site and the master are good. Enough for the beginning, and then think about expanding and attracting new masters. But there is still a question of personnel. Work on the departments of logistics, accounting, finance, system support can be combined by employees of Tranba and Passionis. But the marketing department, the concept development department and the manager must be their own.

"I would like to take the position of creative director," Seda spoke decisively. She turned to Deniz and, apologizing, shrugged. "I know that my loan is related to Tranba, but I am very interested in this work." Building the image of a new company from scratch is а manager's dream.

"Your loan has been repaid," he answered. - This is my contribution to the charity event. If you want to take up the difficult task of making a name for the new company, then I will not interfere with you. "

Deniz fell silent and scratched his head. Then he spread his hands and mockingly said: - Well, what kind of karma? Again I was left without a creative department.

- But then the winter collection is ready. I'll also draw a spring-summer, - Defne promised.

"And I, until you find me a replacement, will be acting as the creative director of Tranba," Seda said.

"I will hold you for your word," Deniz winked at both.

"As for the purchase, orders and sales department," Omer eagerly interrupted such a sweet dialogue, "I have someone in mind." Madam Mirai, that waitress ... - he fell silent, but everyone understood who he was talking about - she is a certified manager and, I think, can handle purchases and sales. While there will be work to open the new company, she will undergo an internship in the Passionis marketing department.

"Great idea," Defne supported her husband. "By the way, when we walked through the woods yesterday, Kumru told me that her father worked as a manager for almost twenty years." And when she got sick and was in the acute stage of the disease, he was almost inseparably with her. The employer was dissatisfied with this and he had to leave work. Kumru is better now. In the morning, we were with Omer in the hospital. For her and Dila, they are intensely seeking donors. The chances of their recovery are high. Maybe he wants to get back to work?

"Well, I will contact him," Seda said. - He is a great manager and a good person.

"The next question is the office space," said Tranba.

"Sheri's former office is not busy," Omer answered instantly. - I contacted the owner and discussed the rent. It is quite acceptable.

"Do you still want Defne under your wing?" – mocking said, Deniz.

"The understandable desire of a loving husband," said Iz, who was silent for almost the entire meeting.

Tranba's heart in his chest made a somersault. Is the beauty merciful to him?! From the very beginning of the meeting, she acted as if he was an empty place, and such behavior angered him like hell. Deniz looked into her eyes and gave a wry smile:

- It is understandable and right. But the behavior of some, I do not understand at all.

Iz silently turned to the window.

Seda and Defne looked at each other. Omer frowned. And Sinan, according to his peacemaking habit, quickly changed the subject:

- Defne, have you come up with a name for your company?

"Yes," she looked into her husband's eyes. - Sapphire.

- Sapphire? Sinan asked again. - Beautiful name. To the point. But still, why not Emerald or Ruby?

Defne did not answer. She was not up to Sinan. Omer's gaze bathed her in adoration and gratitude, and she bloomed in response with a happy smile.

- Ay-yay! Cried the second boss of Passionis and symbolically covered his eyes with his palm. - Do not shine like that, otherwise, we will go blind! –then parting the index and middle fingers, he looked with one eye at the laughing friend and his wife and, lowering his hand, confidently continued: - Everything is clear! Again, something special, which only these two know about, and it is somehow connected with the gem.

"You are a genius of insight," Omer teased him. - Only one thing was wrong. Sapphire is not a stone.

- And what is? - in one voice, in unison asked Sinan and Seda.

Omer and Defne looked at each other and answered with mysterious smiles.

***

Defne drove up to the jewelry workshop by taxi. Jumping out of the car, she called her husband and reported that she was alive and well on the spot. After hearing the answer, she laughed and sang on the phone:

- I, too!

And again a passerby flew into her. He held her elbow so that she would not fall and apologized. Defne reacted as before, before the attack of Kivanc Talat. She smiled and assured that nothing terrible had happened. And then, serene and proud of herself, she entered the workshop.

Ahtem worked on a thin chain. Hearing the creak of the door, he raised his head and smiled warmly at the guest.

- Madame Defne! Welcome! You brought the sun to my humble workshop.

- Good afternoon, Mr. Ahtem. Last time you promised me another lesson. And I, the impudent and persistent person, seized you offer for lessons. And here I am.

Laughing at the joke, the master stood up and pointed to an old armchair by the oak table.

"Have a seat, Madame Defne, and make yourself at home."

Defne thanked him with a smile and sat down. She put a folder with sketches on the table, and turned to him:

"Please call me Defne."

"I agree," the man returned to his place and picked up a miniature instrument. "Then you call me Ahtem."

"Well, ok" Defne agreed easily and carefully stared at the jeweler's long fingers, like that of a pianist. His movements were measured, accurate to the nearest millimeter.

"I have ten minutes left," the jeweler said cleverly working with a tiny hammer. - And then we will study. Is there something that interests you the most?

Defne looked embarrassedly and admitted:

- I have a whole list. I always record important points so as not to forget. Omer finds this side of my character very amusing.

"Why I wonder," Ahtem smiled. - Planning and expressing your thoughts clearly is a rare quality for a girl. Omer was lucky with his wife. And by the way, where is he?

"He will come a little later," Defne answered, taking out a notebook from her purse. - Today is the sending to Milan samples of shoes and the rest necessary for the design of the stands, things. Omer controls the work. You know him, a perfectionist with confidence problems," Defne smiled softly and her eyes were flooded with tenderness.

"An accurate assessment," Ahtem agreed cheerfully. "He was like that at the academy." Serious, silent, demanding of himself and others. But the girls adored him. Each deep down wanted to melt his ice armor.

- And what were the successes? Defne vividly inquired, to which Ahtem shook his head with mock condemnation and clicked his tongue:

- Uhh! Ah, how bad it is to ask for secrets.

"It is so interesting," she did not repent, and the master laughed again gaily. And then with wisdom, which did not fit at all with his youth, he answered:

"It doesn't matter what happened before ... and who was before." Now Omer has a beautiful wife whom he worships. Only this is important. Only that matters.

Defne blushed with pleasure and nodded embarrassed.

- You're right...

Ahtem laid down the hammer, laid the chain on black velvet and turned to Defne.

- The work is over, and I can answer all your questions. Ask!

Defne opened the notebook and looked at the neat, even lines. Yeah, she had more than one lesson of questions. So do not waste time.

Ahtem turned out to be an excellent teacher. Knowledgeable, broad-minded and creative. He answered every question of Defne in detail. Clearly reinforced the answers, demonstrating techniques for processing precious metals and stones. Defne eagerly swallowed knowledge and laid it on shelves in her smart head. The images took shape. She now clearly understood how to draw her imagination so that it was easier for the master to bring it to life.

Omer, who came to the workshop two hours later, found his wife and friend leaning over a box of gems. Ahtem talked about turquoise, and Defne carefully examined this delicate stone and applied it to an ingot of silver, admiring the amazing combination of the cold, dull glow of the metal and the bright blue of the gem.

The two heads black and bright red, bowed so close, at the first moment aroused jealousy at Omer, but at the next moment, he recalled the recent quarrel and resolutely stopped with the unpleasant feelings. It is foolish to insult Defne because of his jealousy or mistrust. She will always be liked by men. It is a fact. But this does not mean that Defne herself will pay attention to them.

Smiling widely, Omer cheerfully greeted his wife and friend:

- Hello! Workaholics have you looked at the time? It is already six o'clock.

- Look who's talking! - Defne teased him and held out her hand. Omer squeezed it in his, kissed the soft hair of her head and only then shook hands with Ahtem.

"Good to see you, brother!" - He sincerely greeted. - Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?

"I want," Omer answered, sitting down next to his wife. "I was completely worn out today." So, no way without coffee.

"I'll do it now," Ahtem closed the box with minerals, put it in a safe, and went over the coffee machine.

Soon, three cups of fragrant espresso were on the table. Omer out of habit put a piece of sugar in the Defne's cup and stirred. And then, closing his eyes with pleasure, he took a sip from his. Ahtem, who was watching this ritual, smiled sadly and bent over his cup. Once he was stirring sugar in the same way ... was tangling with his fingers in soft hair ... bathed in happiness. And then ... He shook his head and drove so suddenly revived memories into a far corner of consciousness.

"Stay there! Do not come back!" - ordered.

And then, with a petrified face, he drank a long sip of his hot and bitter coffee.

"Ahtem," Omer turned to him, "the idea of ​​a jewelry company takes on more and more real and concrete features." This will be a joint project of two large companies - Passionis and Tranba. Do you agree to become a co-owner and to implement the work of Defne in your workshop?

- Co-owner? Asked the jeweler in surprise.

"Exactly," Omer answered firmly. - Ten percent of the shares and voting rights in all important matters.

Ahtem shook his head and looked at Defne. She did not take her eyes shining with pride from her husband and smiled like a happy child. Omer winked at her with both eyes and gripped her thin fingers more tightly. To become a partner of such bright, honest and talented people - is it not good luck? It is not happiness?

"I agree," he said confidently.

At Iplikci's house, they remembered that they were leaving tomorrow morning, and the suitcases had not yet been packed. After a quick dinner with the pilaf prepared by Zehra, they went up to the dressing room and set to work. The routine was great fun if you did it together. Omer threw more and more new things into Defne's suitcase. She laughed, argued why she had so much, and he only winked cheerfully and did not allow to remove a single dress and not a single subtlest silk shirt.

"I've been dreaming for a year and a half to see you get a seductive nightshirt out of your suitcase and put it on," Omer purred, making his way with his palms under the coral home blouse, while in Defne from his voice and the picture painted with his imagination, sweetly compressed down her stomach and goosebumps ran on her back.

As a result, the overfilled suitcases were closed with great difficulty. Leaning them against the wall in the dressing room, gripped in a playful mood, Omer and Defne returned to the bedroom and for long hours forgot everything except each other.

***

Deniz was waiting for two hours Iz near her house. It got dark on the street, the lanterns lit their golden yellow light, a tedious, drizzling rain began, but she was still gone and the phone did not answer. When it began to seem to him that even a moment and he would explode with anger, she appeared. Swaying, she got out of a bright yellow taxi and began to fumble in her purse.

"What are you looking for there?" He asked rudely.

She raised her head and focused her eyes on him.

"Keys," she answered and reached into her purse again. Deniz came closer and grabbed the stylish little thing from her hands. First to get out her phone. Switched off. Who would doubt that!

- Why did you turn off the phone? His voice was hoarse from anger.

Iz waved her index finger in front of his nose and smugly declared:

- So that all sorts of sexy men with stupid ponytails and a lying mouth would not get me. Hic ...

Damn! Such a speech and hiccups ruined everything. Also, the legs refuse to hold the swinging body. No, what a paradox! The head is empty, and the body is heavy as bricks.

- Are you drunk?

And why is he yelling like that?

Where are these damn keys? Stop! Where's the handbag?

The girl shook her head and squinted. Yes, here it is! In the hands of Mr. Temptation.

She pulled the leather handle, her body swung forward, she swung her nose with a sweep into his chest, covered with an expensive jacket, and fell into nirvana.

- Hey! Aren't you feeling bad? - A worried voice hissed somewhere above her ear.

"I feel good," she answered indistinctly.

- Not sick?

Such a bother! Why would she feel sick? From a couple of glasses of tequila? Is she fifteen years old or what?

"No," it seemed to her that she answered confidently and firmly, but in reality, her voice sounded like the meowing of a kitten and then a measured sniffling was heard.

Deniz, surprised by this sound, lifted her face by the chin and looked into it. Right, she fell asleep. Cursing, he grabbed her under the knees and threw her over his shoulder in no romantic way. Clutching the corner of the purse in his teeth, with his free hand he found the key in it and carried the girl to the house. Hitting her face against his back, she muttered something about heartless bumpkins who seduce naive girls, and themselves dream of others, but the angry Deniz did not smile at all to solve her puzzles. He prayed to get to the apartment safely.