Chapter 3

POV DEFNE

I should have left the moment he said that.

Any sane woman would have.

Instead, I stayed frozen in the middle of Adem Sahenk’s kitchen with his fingers still resting beneath my chin and my heartbeat turning uneven for reasons that had nothing to do with fear anymore.

That terrified me most.

He released me slowly, almost as if he knew exactly how aware I had become of the warmth of his hand against my skin. Then he stepped back, putting distance between us with the same controlled precision he seemed to apply to everything else in his life.

“Sit down,” he said.

“I already am.”

A faint shadow of amusement crossed his face before disappearing again.

It was strange seeing traces of humanity on a man everyone treated like a machine built for power. In the office, executives lowered their voices when he walked by. Investors watched him the way people watched storms approaching the sea. Even his wife, from the few times I had seen them together at company events, behaved less like a partner and more like someone carefully navigating a dangerous political alliance.

And now I was standing in his penthouse at nearly one in the morning with blood on my mouth and his attention fixed entirely on me.

The thought made me lightheaded.

“I can leave,” I said quietly.

“You won’t.”

The certainty in his voice irritated me instantly.

“You seem very confident about that.”

Adem picked up his whiskey glass again. “You have nowhere safe to go tonight.”

I hated that he was right.

My apartment was compromised. Berat knew where I lived now, and if he knew, the debt collectors probably would soon too. I imagined strange men pounding against my door at dawn while the neighbors watched through peepholes. The humiliation alone made my stomach twist.

Still, I lifted my chin. “That doesn’t mean I belong here.”

His gaze settled on me again, calm and sharp enough to make my pulse falter.

“No,” he agreed. “Not yet.”

The words slipped into the room softly, but the meaning behind them settled heavily between us.

I looked away first.

Outside the enormous windows, rain lashed against the city skyline, turning Istanbul into blurred gold and shadow. Somewhere below, thousands of people were still awake, drinking in rooftop bars, making reckless decisions, falling in love, getting betrayed. The city never truly slept. It simply changed faces after midnight.

I suddenly wondered which face Adem wore when no one was watching.

“You bought my debt,” I said carefully. “Why?”

“You keep asking me that.”

“Because normal people don’t do things like this.”

“And who said I was normal?”

That answer should not have affected me, but something about the calm honesty of it unsettled me deeply. Most powerful men worked hard to appear harmless. Adem did not bother pretending.

Silence stretched between us again.

Then his phone vibrated on the counter.

For the first time since arriving, I saw irritation flicker across his expression. He glanced at the screen briefly before answering.

“Yes.”

His voice changed instantly during business calls. Colder. Flatter. Every trace of intimacy disappeared so completely it was almost frightening.

“No, move the meeting to nine… because I said so.”

A pause.

“No. I don’t care what the board thinks.”

Another pause.

Then his eyes lifted toward me while he listened to the person on the other end.

Something unreadable crossed his face.

“Handle it,” he said finally before ending the call.

I should not have noticed how his gaze lingered on me afterward.

But I did.

“Your wife?” I asked before thinking better of it.

The atmosphere changed immediately.

Not violently. Quietly.

Like stepping onto thin ice and hearing the first crack underneath.

Adem set his glass down with deliberate care. “You’re asking dangerous questions for someone in your position.”

Heat crawled slowly up my neck.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.”

His voice remained calm, but there was something else underneath now. Warning. Interest. Maybe both.

I stood abruptly, needing distance before the room became any more suffocating. “I should go.”

This time he did laugh, softly enough that it almost sounded cruel.

“Go where?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“No,” he said simply. “You won’t.”

Anger flared through me then, sharp enough to overpower fear for a moment. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Adem watched me carefully as I crossed my arms over my chest like armor.

“You’re trembling,” he observed.

“I’m angry.”

“You’re scared.”

“Of course I’m scared.” My voice rose before I could stop it. “My life collapsed months ago, my ex-boyfriend is threatening me, strangers are hunting me over money I never stole, and now my married billionaire boss thinks he can buy pieces of my life because he feels sorry for me.”

“I do not feel sorry for you.”

The words came immediately.

Cold. Certain.

And somehow far more dangerous than sympathy would have been.

I stared at him.

“Then what do you feel?”

For a second, neither of us moved.

Rain hammered against the windows.

The city glowed beneath us.

And Adem Sahenk looked at me with an intensity that made every inch of my skin feel suddenly too sensitive.

“You interest me,” he said quietly.

The air left my lungs.

No man had ever said those words to me like that before.

Not desire.

Not affection.

Interest.

As if I were something he wanted to understand before deciding whether to destroy me.

I should have walked away then.

Instead, I made the mistake of holding his gaze.

And something shifted.

Slowly, Adem stepped toward me.

One step.

Then another.

Not touching me. Not cornering me. Somehow that restraint felt infinitely more intimate than force would have.

“You hide fear well,” he murmured.

I swallowed hard.

“You hide everything well.”

A faint smile touched his mouth at that.

“True.”

He stopped close enough that I could feel warmth radiating from his body despite the distance between us. My pulse had become unbearable now, heavy enough that I wondered if he could hear it.

“I need to know something before we continue,” he said.

My breath caught at the word continue.

“What?”

“Can you follow instructions?”

I frowned slightly, confused by the sudden question. “What?”

His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.

“Answer carefully, Defne.”

The way he said my name sent heat spiraling low in my stomach, humiliating and immediate.

“I don’t understand what you want from me.”

“No,” he said softly. “You understand perfectly. You’re simply hoping I’ll say it first.”

My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.

Because he was right again.

Some part of me already understood exactly where this night was heading, and that terrified me almost as much as the fact that I had not walked out yet.

Adem lifted one hand slowly.

I went completely still when his fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

Such a small touch.

Barely anything.

Yet my entire body reacted.

His eyes darkened slightly at whatever he saw on my face.

Then, very quietly, he asked:

“If I pay every debt tied to your name… what exactly are you willing to give me in return?”