Chapter 4

POV DEFNE

I forgot how to breathe after that question.

Not because I was naïve enough to misunderstand him, and not because I believed powerful men ever did anything without expecting something in return. The terrifying part was how calmly he had asked it, as though this were merely another negotiation taking place inside one of the glass conference rooms downstairs instead of a conversation capable of ruining what remained of my life.

The city lights reflected behind him in fractured gold through the windows, turning his silhouette darker, sharper. He still had not touched me again after brushing my hair behind my ear, but the memory of that brief contact lingered beneath my skin with humiliating intensity.

I forced myself to speak carefully.

“You make it sound simple.”

Adem slipped one hand into his pocket and studied me in silence for a moment. “Nothing about this is simple.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t ask.”

A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, though there was no warmth in it. “You’re intelligent enough to understand that I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t already know your answer.”

The words irritated me instantly because they struck too close to the truth.

I hated feeling cornered. I hated that desperation had reduced my choices to this: return to the life waiting outside that tower with Berat and the debt collectors circling like vultures, or stay here with a man whose calm frightened me more than shouting ever could.

Neither option felt safe.

“Tell me exactly what you want,” I said finally.

For the first time since I arrived, Adem looked almost pleased.

Not openly. Men like him did not display emotion carelessly. Still, I saw something dark flicker behind his eyes before he crossed the room toward the bar again.

“You’ll stay here tonight,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, every creditor tied to your family’s debt will receive payment notices from my legal team.”

I stared at his back in disbelief. “Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“No conditions?”

He poured himself another drink before answering.

“Defne,” he said quietly, “everything has conditions.”

My stomach tightened.

Rain continued sliding down the enormous windows behind him while thunder rolled faintly over the Bosphorus. The penthouse suddenly felt too warm, too quiet, too isolated from the rest of the world. Somewhere beneath us, Istanbul was still alive and chaotic, but up here everything seemed suspended inside Adem’s controlled silence.

“What happens after tomorrow?” I asked.

He turned toward me slowly, whiskey glass in hand.

“You continue working for me.”

“That’s all?”

“No.”

The single word settled heavily between us.

I crossed my arms tightly over myself, partly defensive and partly because my body had started reacting to him in ways I deeply disliked. Every time he looked directly at me, awareness spread through my chest like heat under my skin. It was unfair that fear and attraction could feel so dangerously similar.

“You’re married,” I said.

The atmosphere shifted again.

This time I recognized the warning immediately.

Adem took a slow sip of whiskey before answering. “I am.”

“So whatever this is…” I struggled for the right words. “It’s not possible.”

“You say that as though morality is the problem.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” His gaze moved over me with quiet intensity. “The problem is whether you can survive it.”

The honesty of that answer unsettled me more than manipulation would have.

Most men lied beautifully when they wanted something from a woman. They promised softness, protection, romance. Adem offered none of those things. He stood there in the middle of that cold luxurious apartment telling me, without shame, that whatever existed in his mind would probably damage me.

And somehow that made him harder to resist.

I looked away first, furious at myself for even thinking that.

“You think money gives you the right to own people.”

“No,” he replied calmly. “Money simply reveals what people are willing to sell.”

The words hit harder than they should have because some terrible part of me knew he was right.

Everyone sold something eventually.

Time. Loyalty. Bodies. Silence.

Mine had simply become more expensive after my parents destroyed my life.

I moved toward the windows, needing distance from him before my thoughts became even more dangerous. Below us, headlights streaked through the rain-soaked streets while ships drifted across the dark water in the distance. Istanbul looked beautiful from up here, almost unreal, stripped of the ugliness waiting closer to the ground.

“Do you know what people say about you at the company?” I asked quietly.

Behind me, I heard the faint clink of glass against marble.

“I’m sure they say many things.”

“They think you’re incapable of feeling anything.”

A long silence followed.

When Adem finally spoke, his voice sounded closer than before.

“Is that what you think?”

I turned too quickly and nearly lost my breath.

He had crossed the room without me noticing.

Now he stood directly behind me, close enough that I could feel warmth radiating through the thin fabric of my blouse. My pulse stumbled instantly.

“You move quietly,” I murmured.

“You were distracted.”

His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth again, lingering on the split in my lower lip. Something dark passed through his expression before disappearing beneath restraint.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly.

I swallowed hard.

“No,” I admitted. “I don’t think you’re emotionless.”

“And what do you think I am?”

Dangerous.

The word formed immediately in my mind.

Dangerous in the way storms were dangerous, beautiful enough to make people walk willingly toward destruction.

But saying that aloud felt reckless.

“I think you’re used to control,” I answered carefully.

“And does that frighten you?”

“Yes.”

His eyes darkened slightly.

“Good.”

The quiet approval in his voice sent a wave of heat through me so suddenly I stepped back instinctively. My lower back hit the glass window behind me before I could move farther away.

Adem noticed immediately.

His gaze flickered downward.

Then slowly returned to my face.

Neither of us spoke.

The tension between us had become unbearable now, thick enough to feel physical.

I should leave, I thought desperately.

I should leave before this becomes something I can’t escape.

But instead of moving away, Adem lifted one hand and rested it lightly against the glass beside my head, trapping me there without actually touching me.

My breath caught.

“Tell me something honestly, Defne,” he said quietly.

I could barely think with him standing that close.

“What?”

“Did you come here tonight because you were afraid…” His eyes held mine steadily. “Or because part of you wanted someone powerful enough to take control of your life?”

Humiliation burned through me instantly.

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” he agreed softly. “But you still haven’t answered.”

Before I could force out a reply, a sudden sharp sound cut through the room.

Adem’s phone.

The screen lit up across the counter.

And the moment he saw the name calling, something cold entered his expression so abruptly it made my stomach twist.

Enise.