A few hours have passed, and we're standing at the entrance of the event. The hall is immense, lit by countless chandeliers, looking like an Oscar premiere.
Serkan had asked this "Selim" to leave the selected clothes at the reception while she greeted everyone. Defne finds me at the party, finally taking off the handcuffs.
"Great. I'll never have to see him again. Let's go, Defne." She seemed reluctant to leave, watching Serkan closely.
Serkan stops me, placing a hand on my arm and pulling me toward him. He holds my back with one arm; I place a hand on his chest to regain my balance. We stare at each other as if sparks are flying between us.
"I did you a favor by accepting your father's company as a partner in my project. Now, I want you to return it."
"What do you want?" Defne looks at us, confused by how close we are. It was as if we'd been trading barbs and fire all day long.
"You're going to change, and you'll be my date."
"Keep dreaming." I turn away, but Serkan—with a mix of gentleness, strength, and determination—grabs my forearm. It feels like a move from a perfectly choreographed, yet somehow sensual, commercial. He rests his chin delicately on my shoulder—it's almost imperceptible, but I know he did it because I can feel his heat. Then, he whispers in my ear, his voice low, smooth, and dead serious.
"I can withdraw from the deal with your company." I look at him, wondering if it's a bluff, but I can't read him.
"I hope Selim has good taste," I smile at him with distaste as he tosses me the bag with the items Selim set aside.
I head into the bathroom with Defne right behind me. The dress is a long black gown with silver beading, crisscrossed at the back to leave it open, with a modest V-neck in the front and a side slit. Elegant and sexy.
"Hande, you're not actually thinking of going, are you?"
"I have to, for my father's company."
"You haven't spoken to him in years! Why help him now?"
"If I get those shares, I can give my aunt financial stability."
"Hande..." Defne tries to talk me out of it, but she knows I'm right to try. "I just don't know. You're going to get hurt."
"Don't worry," I smile at her. "I don't break easily."
But inside, I'm uncertain about handling Serkan. Five minutes ago, it was a whirlwind of feelings. How can I hate someone and find them sexy at the same time? Even with all of Serkan's meticulously programmed movements, I feel this turbulence.
"Are you ready?" Serkan knocks on the door.
"How do I look?" I ask Defne.
"Stunning." She smiles and hugs me.
"Good, because I think this dress costs as much as a semester of tuition." We laugh together, and I step out to meet Serkan. Defne hesitates for a moment before leaving, watching Serkan with a smile. She's interested in him—suspicious. He watches Defne but remains impartial, though he looks genuinely surprised when he sees me.
"You look beautiful," he compliments me in a low voice. We walk down the stairs together; Serkan holds my hand delicately so I don't lose my balance.
"Selim seems to have good taste—she even guessed my shoe size." I show him a bit of my sandal through the slit in the dress, clearly catching his attention.
He looks at me with wonder and gives a genuine smile. "Why couldn't Selim be your date?"
"She's engaged to someone else," Serkan says shortly, but I know there's more to it.
"Serkan, merhaba!"
"Merhaba, Jan. Let me introduce my fiancée." Serkan stops again, and I freeze at the word fiancée. I try to keep my composure after a few seconds of shock.
"Merhaba, Hande Yildiz. Pleasure to meet you."
"Merhaba, Jan Divit. Come, let me introduce my wife."
Jan leads the way, but I pull Serkan's arm and whisper, "What do you think you're doing?" He places his hand on my back, smiling.
"You ask too many questions."
"I'm leaving right now," I announce, but Serkan nudges me forward.
"I'll explain later." He nods, signaling me to just follow and trust that he'll tell me.
"You better." I say finally. "I can't believe—" Before I can finish, Jan turns around.
"Is everything alright?" We smile and nod. My hatred for Serkan only grows.
"Aşkım, I want to introduce you to the firm I told you I've been working with. This is Serkan Bolat, and this is his fiancée, Hande Yildiz."
"Merhaba! What a beautiful name, Hande. One of our daughters is also named Hande. I'm Aylla Ozturk."
"Aylla Divit," Jan corrects, kissing her cheek.
"Merhaba. You have children?" I force a smile at Serkan. I hope he doesn't invent anything like that, or I'll kill him right here.
"Not just one, but three. Triplets," Jan smiles, hugging Aylla.
"Mashallah," Serkan says, a bit stiffly. I'm relieved.
"I see you two are total opposites," Aylla says as we look at each other. I wonder what she means. "But you complement each other."
"It's hard to be without her," Serkan puts his arm around me.
"Hande," I extend my hand, "I think we'll be good friends."
"I think so too." I smile at her. Aylla seems like someone I'd easily befriend under different circumstances. "You said Aylla Ozturk, right? Was your first book The Phoenix and the Albatross?"
"Guilty," she smiles.
"It's an excellent book. Your love is so inspiring."
Jan and Aylla share an embrace. "Well, why don't we go find some champagne and my children, Hande, while these two talk business?" Aylla kisses Jan's cheek and pulls me away. I look at Serkan, and he gives me a reassuring look.
"Are you two really a couple?" Aylla asks me.
"Yes, of course. Doesn't it look like it?" We've been caught. Of course a romance novelist based on her own life would see through the farce.
"I don't know... there seems to be a tension between you, like you're just getting to know each other."
"Every day feels like I'm getting to know Serkan," I smile at her. Can I really pull this off with a romance expert?
"When I met Jan, I felt that a lot—that tension," Aylla smiles nostalgically.
"And when did it go away?" I don't know why I'm curious, but I ask. I have no interest in keeping Serkan in my life.
"Oh, with time. Getting to know each other, accepting our feelings. Love can be scary sometimes."
"I imagine." I look at Serkan from across the room, and he meets my eyes with a tense gaze.
"Do you have a date?" Aylla asks curiously. I look surprised, remembering I'm faking it.
"Not yet," I say too quickly. "It's all so..."
"Chaotic? This world totally is."
"It's just that I don't really know what to talk about, what to wear, or what to say," I try to fix my blunder. The reality is I wanted to be as far from Serkan as possible.
"Neither did I. Just be yourself and you'll make great friends," Aylla places a hand on my arm. "It's strange you don't know much, considering your family is so well-known for architecture and this glamour. In fact, they built our house years ago." She would definitely recognize the Yildiz name; it's famous in Turkey.
I stare at Serkan, absorbing what Aylla says, remembering my family and the days I lived with them—I can barely recall them.
"I grew up with my aunt, Jansu. We live a humble life."
"The best people grow up in those conditions. I was lucky to meet Jan," Aylla looks at him with admiration.
"He is..."
"Rare? Unique?" I try to finish her sentence.
"Definitely." She looks at me with a kind smile.
"And I'm sure Serkan is the same, because I know you wouldn't put up with that kind of man..." She lets the sentence hang.
"Snobbish?" She nods.
"Yeah, I think we can say Serkan isn't snobbish at all."
My lie grows deeper with Aylla. Serkan was snobbish, arrogant, overbearing, and presumptuous. Aylla analyzes me, smiling kindly. She radiates peace; I hate lying to her.
"Well, if you can, I'd love to meet with you more often. Now, I'm going to find my little adventurers. Have a good night."
Serkan appears immediately after. "How was it?" I ignore him and grab a glass of champagne. "Hande."
"Oh, so you know my name," I say, looking at him. He looks so handsome in his black tuxedo, his shoes polished to a shine; he looks like he stepped out of a high-end spy movie.
"If you had told me sooner, I would have known."
"I didn't think that arrogant brain of yours was capable of remembering the name of a 'mere intern'." I use air quotes for intern.
"I didn't know the intern would be crazy enough to handcuff me."
"And I didn't know the person who said he wanted to get rid of me would bring me to a party and call me his fiancée. You're impossible. I can't wait to never see you again."
"I feel the same."
"Smile for the photo!" A photographer appears with a camera. "Get close."
Serkan pulls me tight. As I focus on the camera, I spot Ozan in the distance, holding hands with a girl. He kisses her cheek. I'm blinded by jealousy. He sees me too, looking startled. I look at Serkan and kiss him on pure impulse. I'm surprised I decided to do it, but I'm blinded by the need to prove to Ozan—the traitor who should be in Italy—that I'm fine. It's impulsive and childish, but that's me: act first, think later.
I place my hand on Serkan's arms. He smoothly pulls me closer, placing his hands on my back. It feels like I'm in heaven counting stars. What an incredible kiss, even coming from someone I hate. I completely forget we're at a party full of people, and that I was just trying to show off to my fiancé. We look at each other. Serkan is smiling, with an expression I've never seen before.