How could she refuse? Even a woman with a stone heart could not. And her heart was alive and hot again. And it wanted this evening more than anything else.

"Okay," Jansu said.

Niko exhaled. He didn't even notice that he didn't breathe as he waited for her answer.

"I'll pick you up at eight," he said.

Jansu shook her head and retorted, "Do not. This is not a date. Just dinner. I'll come myself. Just tell me which restaurant."

"Gardеn," he replied, naming her favorite restaurant.

Again, her heart quickened its rhythm. He remembered. He even remembered that.

"I'll be there at eight," she said.

Niko waited until Jansu climbed onto the terrace of the house. At the very front door, she looked around and smiled at him.

Happy, he rushed to the hotel. The administrator at the reception, flatteringly wishing good evening, followed him with an attentive look and wrote something down in a notebook. Niko did not notice this. He would not even notice an elephant standing in the way right now. All thoughts were occupied by Jansu and the upcoming evening. Today he will appear before her exactly the man into whose arms she, without a moment's hesitation, can jump from the roof. And he will catch her.

Before reaching the elevator, he remembered something and, turning abruptly, returned to the reception.

"Be so kind," he turned to the administrator, "Book the best table for two in the Garden restaurant in my name."

"What time is it?" asked the administrator.

"At eight in the evening."

"Will it be a business dinner?" he clarified.

"It will be a romantic dinner!" answered Niko. "Tell the restaurant manager that candles, flowers, and privacy are a must."

Jansu, in a bathrobe and with a turban made of a towel on her head, in her dressing room, was going through the hangers with outfits. The excitement inside required her to be dazzlingly beautiful today, but at the same time natural, without deliberate pomp.

Dresses, one by one, were sent back to the closet. Some were too pretentious, others too smart, and still others too simple. It was all wrong! It wasn't right for the moment and the importance of the evening.

A blouse caught her attention. The one made of translucent organza of smoky green color. Niko's gift.

"Nooo!!!" screamed the mind. "What are you doing?! It will be a provocation! "

"Let it be!" Jansu answered it.

Decisively throwing the blouse on the bed, she pulled out a gray pencil skirt and black, suede sandals with stunning stiletto heels from the closet.

Niko arrived at the restaurant at ten to eight. The distance from the hotel to the Garden was laughable. Some three hundred meters across a beautiful square, with lanterns like fireflies and fountains with shining water. Stopping by the two-man-high sliding glass doors, he nervously tugged at the hem of his beige jacket and looked at his wrist. The clock showed 19-54. Lord, how slowly time passes. The secondhand crawls like a snail.

At eight o'clock sharp, a taxi stopped outside the restaurant. Jansu came out of it. Niko looked at her and was speechless. She was dazzlingly beautiful, but that was not the reason for his silence. Jansu put on his gift - the smoky green blouse made of translucent organza. He was not mistaken when he decided to buy it.

It was Jansu's thing, as special and daring as she was.

Thin stiletto heels beat off a leisurely knock as the beautiful princess in the form of a vamp woman walked towards him. Niko was waiting for her, and the heart in his chest was beating in a ragged rhythm.

"Hi," she said, stopping.

"Hey," he exhaled. Glancing, from head to toe to the tips of her shoes, her fine figure, he said, "You are dazzling!"

"Thank you," answered Jansu.

She did not blush or be embarrassed. Received the compliment with royal dignity. Niko, who was trembling and alternately thrown into heat and cold, with a mixed feeling of admiration and annoyance, thought that in her veins, if not kings, then the padishahs' blood was running.

"Maybe we can go inside?" Jansu lightly nodded to the door.

Niko finally recovered. Holding out his arm bent at the elbow, he said, "I'm sorry. I'm dumbfounded by your beauty."

"You look good too," Jansu said, taking his arm.

Niko rejoiced like a boy. Not bad, certainly not dazzling, but also a good option.

The maitre d' was waiting for the couple inside. Bowing down and giving a compliment to the beauty of Jansu, he led the young people to a table fenced off from the rest of the hall by a screen entwined with flowering vines. There was a delicately fragrant bouquet of tea roses on the table and candles were burning. Niko, without taking his eyes off, watched Jansu's face intently. She was struck in the heart. It, poor, could not help but freeze from admiration for such a romantic setting.

"Very beautiful," she said. "I love tea roses."

"I know," he said.

Tears welled up in Jansu's eyes. He knows ..., remembers all the little things and insignificant details ..., Niko loved her then, four years ago ... he told her about it today. And he also returned the money, although no one demanded it. But for him, it was a matter of honor to return them and only after that - to return himself. It was hard for Jansu to admit her mistake, but she was always honest with herself. Nobody but her is to blame. No one! She ruined her own life. Instead of talking and listening, she ran away, - and then drove Niko away...

"Jansu," he called hoarsely.

She woke up from her thoughts, raised her face to him, and smiled, putting into the smile all her tenderness, love, and a request for forgiveness. He smiled back. He smiled openly and easily. Never before, not in the past, not now, has Jansu seen his smile like that. Grasping the back of the chair and pushing it back, he bowed playfully and said, "Princess, please! We have a great dinner from the chef."

She picked up his frivolous tone, made an elegant curtsy, and, gracefully sinking into the chair, ceremoniously thanked, "Gracie, signor!"

The set tone lasted the entire dinner. Niko poured jokes, Jansu laughed and joked back. She teased him, and he looked with loving eyes and thought that he wanted time to stop and this evening would last forever.

Niko and Jansu were the last to leave the restaurant. It was approaching midnight, the street, the road, and the square behind it was practically deserted. Only occasionally cars passed, but among them, Jansu did not notice a single taxi.

"I was stupid," she said. "I should have asked the restaurant administrator to call a taxi."

"What taxi?" Niko was indignant. "I'll take you!"

"You drank wine," Jansu reminded him.

"Just one glass," he said.

"And I got three!" she exclaimed and covered her eyes with her hands. "God, how embarrassing!"

Niko laughed, took her hand, and pulled her towards the square.

"Let's go. The Maserati is parked outside the hotel. Let's take it and I'll drive you home."

Lanterns were burning in the square and fountains were rustling. Jansu wanted to dance. She didn't care that there was no music - the melody sounded in her head. She spun, arms outstretched and her face thrown back to the night sky. Niko caught her and hugged her. Jansu looked into his eyes. They blazed with fire. She knew the name of this fire. Passion. Never before had Niko looked at her like that ... frankly. Butterflies woke up in her stomach. Jansu had neither the strength nor the desire to subdue them.

"I want to kiss you."

The timbre of his low voice made her dizzy.

"Kiss me," she breathed.

He clasped the back of her head with his palm and pressed to his lips, kissing with desperate passion and greed, as if she were water, and he was a traveler dying in the desert from thirst. Jansu returned the kiss, sinking headlong into the feelings that overwhelmed her.

Rain fell from heaven on them. Not rare drops or drizzle, but a wall of water that instantly soaked the lovers to the skin. Drops fell on their hair, on their faces and shoulders, and they kissed, unable to tear themselves apart. When the lightning flashed and thunder roared overhead, Niko let go of the desired lips, - but didn't open his hands. He pressed his forehead to Jansu's and closed his eyes.

"Rain," she whispered.

"Let's go to my hotel," he asked warmly and hoarsely.

To the hotel ... to him ... Jansu froze.

"Probably, this is fate" flashed through her head.

The Almighty himself pushed her into the arms of Niko. "Let's go," she said.

Niko groaned, grabbed her under her knees, and whirled her in the air. His exultant scream and her happy laughter melted into a veil of rain.

Wet and happy, they ran into the hotel and, not noticing anyone, headed for the elevator. The door had not yet closed, and Niko was already kissing Jansu. The doorman in the hall looked away. The receptionist behind the counter, pursing his lips disapprovingly, found the required number on the phone and, when he was answered, quietly said, "I apologize for bothering you so late, but you asked me to call during the day or at night if there was information. Signor Niko Bianco today had a romantic evening with Jansu Baisal at the Garden restaurant. Now the two of them went up to Signor Nico's room."

Passion raged in the luxurious two-room suite on the 31st floor. Everything around was blazing with fire, burning and resurrecting from the ashes of two lovers. Jansu lost her head, dissolving in the hot caresses and burning kisses of Niko. He gave them so generously. He tore off her wet clothes and showered them on every centimeter of her naked body. The buttons on her drenched blouse did not want to leave the buttonhole and he tore the lapels aside, watching with satisfaction as the gray hematite drops scatter across the floor. Jansu just gasped. Again he ruined her blouse. Probably, this is also fate. Everything connected with Niko, every gesture, every word, every movement is destiny. He is her destiny. No matter how much she repeats the opposite, no matter how much she runs away, everything is in vain. They are linked by an unbreakable thread. Forever!

At the last moment, Niko remembered the condom. It was in the back pocket of his trousers. It was only necessary to reach out a hand, but, the man burning with love, did not do it. Deliberately didn't. Looking into green eyes, clouded with passion, he entered Jansu. A gleeful smile appeared on his lips. She is his! He won't make any more mistakes. He would do anything, tie her to him with steel ropes, cast-iron chains ... a child, if only she would remain his forever.

***

Signora Hortense Salvatore Bianco, impeccably dressed and well-combed, sat down next to the small writing desk and rang the invariable, antique brass bell. She didn't recognize all these modern gadgets of the nouveau riche, like a call button or a telephone. They are for the plebeians. Hereditary aristocrats are obliged to preserve their age-old values, foundations, and traditions. Even if it is a call of a servant with a copper bell. Otherwise, the world will turn into chaos.

The butler, who appeared ten minutes later, looked sleepy but was as carefully combed and dressed as his mistress.

"Yes, Signora Hortense," he said, bowing his head.

"Immediately book me a ticket for the first-morning flight to Istanbul," she ordered. "And also a return ticket for the afternoon flight."

"Yes, signora," said the butler and asked, "What would you like to pack in your luggage?"

"Nothing," Hortense Salvatore-Bianco said sharply. "I'm not going to linger for a single extra minute in this barbaric city."

***

"What will happen now?" Quietly asked Jansu when the fog of passion melted away and the ability to think returned to her.

She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. She was scared again. What if what happened in this room a few minutes ago was not what Niko was to her - seventh heaven and paradise? What if for him it was just sex, and she was just another trophy in his bed? She will not survive this...

The ability to think returned to Niko as well. And with it, a sobering thought - his engagement to Ornella has not been broken off. He wanted to answer Jansu's question with a promise - a wedding and happiness await them. But now, at this moment, his words will be a lie. He couldn't do that. Couldn't lie. But he could not tell the truth either.

He will give Jansu a promise and ask her to become his wife in a couple of days, - when he returns from Rome as a free man. Until then...

"Don't think about it now," he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her tender shoulder. "Don't think about anything tonight. Let's sleep."

She turned to face him and hugged him. Her breath tickled his chest. Niko closed his eyes and sighed blissfully. Tomorrow was a difficult day. Returning to Rome; a frank and difficult conversation with Ornella; an inevitable quarrel with his mother; dissatisfaction with relatives. They will put pressure on him, but he will hold out. After all, the most important thing is at stake - his happiness and that of Jansu.

Tomorrow he will fight the entire Bianco - Salvatore clan. Tomorrow there will be anger, irritation, and rage.

And now he was just feeling good.

Niko was awakened by a knock on the door. It was quiet but persistent. Trying not to wake up the sweetly sleeping Jansu, he pulled on his pajama pants, threw on a T-shirt, and, nodding off, wandered to open the door, indignant at the same time - what does the service staff need so early? But when he opened the door, the dream vanished. Cold, resentful eyes burned through him. It was not the maid who stood outside.

"Mother?" he asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm saving your life and the honor of the Salvatore - Bianco family," she replied icily.

Niko went cold. Damn it! She knows about Jansu. But where did it come from?

"You bribed the staff!" He stated the fact.

"Did you think that I was going to let things go and let you get carried away with this Turkish woman again?" His mother asked with contemptuous irony and reproached.

"Am I to be kept on the doorstep in this room forever?"

Niko stepped aside, closed the bedroom door, and gestured to the living room.

"Come on in. Just please keep your voice down."

At first, Jansu thought it was a dream, but the familiar, haughty voice sounded too realistic. She opened her eyes and sat up in bed. The voices outside the door were muffled and indistinct. But they belonged to Niko and his mother.

Horrified by the situation, Jansu jumped out of bed and began to pull on her clothes. Lingerie, thank God, was found. But the skirt was still damp. Jansu with difficulty pulled it on her hips and lifted her blouse, on which, after yesterday's passionate impulse of Niko, not a single button remained. After shoving it into the trash can, Jansu lifted Niko's shirt off the floor. It was damp too and pretty wrinkled, but at least it had buttons. Throwing it on and buttoning it up, Jansu rolled up the sleeves and looked at herself in the mirror. It would be better if she didn't do it. Her reflection looked like a mockery. Wet, rumpled clothes, disheveled hair, and lips swollen from kisses. What a humiliation it would be to appear like this in front of a refined and arrogant ex-mother-in-law.

Slightly smoothing her hair down, Jansu picked up the handbag that was lying on the floor and, barefoot, tiptoed to the door. Listening, she opened it slightly. She prayed fervently that Signora Salvatore Bianco would stand with her back to her, and she would be able to slip unnoticed. Allah did not hear her prayer. Niko was with his back to her, and his mother, with contemptuous narrowing of her eyes, stood in front of him and spoke.

"Niccolo, do you realize what you are doing? While your bride prepares for the wedding, you tumble in bed with a shameless girl."

"Mother, choose your words," Niko growled.

"I call things by their proper names," Signora Bianco rapped out. "It is shameless girls who hang around hotels with men. And you are the same as your father. A rake who does not miss a single skirt. But now you've crossed the line, Niko. Ornella is your bride. She is a noble girl and does not deserve this kind of treatment."

Jansu's eyes darkened. Bride? Engaged? And who, then, is she?

"Shameless girl," the inner voice reminded her.

Bitterness rose to her throat. Jansu felt so bad that she was balancing on the edge of consciousness. Why is he like that? Why did he destroy her walls, get to the heart, and smash it to smithereens again? Why did he seek her? Is it just to please his ego?

She flung open the door and went out into the living room. Signora Salvatore-Bianco, seeing her, disgustedly pursed her lips. Niko looked back at the noise. Fear flashed in his eyes. Stepping towards her, he said, "Jansu!"

She backed up to the front door.

"Jansu, stop!" He ordered and took another step. Jansu put her hand forward and croaked, "Don't come close."

"Don't you dare draw the wrong conclusions," Niko demanded furiously.

She looked into his eyes. Pain, disappointment, helplessness mixed in her gaze.

"It's true?" she whispered. "Is it true that you are engaged?"

It was easier to walk over the burning coals than to answer her.

"Yes. But... "

In one second, the defenseless girl turned into a panther. A steel gleam appeared in her eyes. Jansu swung and slapped Niko in the face.

"Never!" she hissed in his face. "Never dare to come near me again."

She ran out the door and slammed it hard behind her. Niko followed.

"Are you going to run around the hotel in your pajamas?" He heard the mocking voice of his mother behind.

He turned slowly to her. The triumph in her gaze painfully hit the strained nerves. Niko approached her and asked, "Why? Why are you so cruel, mother?"