The meeting room is a cathedral of hushed, corporate focus. The lights are dimmed, the only glow coming from the projector casting graphs and market trends onto the screen.
A staff member stands at the front, voice a steady monotone about demographic outreach and brand synergy.
Deniz sits beside me, the picture of professional attention. His eyes are fixed on the presentation, his expression unreadable, calm.
The perfect assistant.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye. A bright, secret warmth blooms in my chest, a direct contrast to the dry analysis filling the room.
Beneath the long table, shielded from view, my hand slowly seeks his. My fingers find his, curling around them.
He flinches, a tiny, almost imperceptible jolt. His head turns slightly, his dark eyes cutting to me, wide with silent alarm.
I give him the faintest, most daring wink.
