"I'm choosing to ignore the 'heartless' comment since the pay was good, Bluey," he said casually.
Feyza spun toward me.
"So that's where my money went?"
When I nodded, she turned on Mete.
"Give it back. Now."
He laughed, pulled her closer, and hugged her.
"Did I ever thank you for the amazing weekend my boyfriend and I spent in Çeşme?"
She punched him in the stomach and freed herself.
"I officially hate you."
Rubbing his stomach, Mete smiled innocently.
"I love you too."
We all laughed.
The kid knew exactly how to use his charm.
Then his eyes shifted somewhere behind us, his brows knitting together. When we turned, we saw Efe storming toward us, mask clenched in his hand, eyes blazing.
"Shit. He's coming for me," Mete muttered. "I'm out, girls. See you later."
He started to leave, then suddenly stopped and looked at Aylin like nothing was wrong.
"Did you lose weight?"
When she laughed and nodded, he grinned and pinched her cheek.
"You look amazing. If I were straight, I'd definitely sleep with you."
He ran off while Feyza and I burst out laughing and Aylin yelled after him, "Pervert!"
He blew her a kiss and disappeared.
When I turned back, I saw Efe speeding up in the same direction.
I silently wished Mete luck.
Because Efe was the biggest man I'd seen since Demir—and if he caught Mete, it would take maybe ten minutes to send him to the hospital.
Watching him go, I realized for the first time that Efe was actually very handsome. Dark blond hair, sharp features, tall, broad-shouldered—undeniably attractive.
Feyza tugged my arm.
"So. What now?"
"We move on to phase two."
They stared at me expectantly. I smiled, raised my hand to signal them to wait, pulled my phone from my bag, and called my next accomplice.
A few minutes later, the dull classical music stopped.
The lights dimmed, and a soft spotlight illuminated the empty space in the center of the ballroom.
A couple stood there.
As people stepped back and others looked around in confusion, it became clear why—both dancers were women.
When the slow, romantic music began and they started dancing, the entire room watched, captivated.
The dance idea wasn't mine—it was Mete's. And I felt a little sad he couldn't be there to watch his own show.
When Feyza first told me about her parents' plan, Mete had been the only person I could think of to help. Not just because he was a good friend—but because his creativity was borderline insane.
Anyone else would've refused. Mete loved chaos. He'd agreed without hesitation.
I knew he cared about Feyza, but it felt like he had his own vendetta against people like her parents. As long as he helped, I didn't question it.
Honestly, stopping the groom candidate would've been enough for me—but Mete insisted that wasn't sufficient.
He said we deserved a better New Year's Eve.
He was a second-year fine arts student at another university, ridiculously social, a member of every club imaginable. He'd prepared this show with his friends.
And although he'd tried to hide it, I knew he'd given every bit of the money Feyza paid him to his friends.
Handsome and generous.
As I watched the dancers move with mesmerizing fluidity, I felt a strange prickling at the back of my neck.
I looked around uneasily.
The lights were too dim to make anyone out clearly.
Then the music ended. The dancers finished their intimate routine, and the lights went out again. People hesitated, unsure how to react—until we started clapping enthusiastically.
Eventually, the rest of the guests joined in.
When the spotlight came back on, another pair stood there.
This time—two men.
Black fedoras on their heads.
As the music started, they moved—and honestly, they were even sexier than the first couple.
Every ten seconds, another pair joined them from the crowd. Their flawless synchronization and the upbeat rhythm turned the performance electric.
Some guests began leaving.
Their loss.
When the dancers shrugged off their jackets, a wave of shocked gasps followed. Feyza screamed in delight, Aylin trying hard not to look away, and I just giggled.
Suddenly, a man stepped forward, caught a hat thrown toward him, placed it on his head—and joined the dance.
"Isn't that Mete?" Feyza whispered.
She was right.
And then I spotted where he was looking.
Efe—furious, murderous.
I burst out laughing.
Mete had clearly thrown himself into the dancers, trusting that Efe wouldn't dare attack him in front of everyone.
Even though he hadn't been part of this routine, he knew the moves and blended in perfectly.
Near the end of the song, Feyza crossed her arms, sulking.
"What is it, Blondie?"
"That damn Butterfly! Is there anything he can't do?"
Aylin and I laughed.
Then a hat landed on my head, and someone grabbed my arm.
"Hey! What are you—let go!"
Ignoring me, he dragged me toward the dancers. I turned to beg the girls for help—only to see them being pulled in too.
When we reached the center, Aylin danced comfortably with another girl, Feyza didn't care who she was with, and I—poor me—had to deal with Mete, whose moves turned my face every shade of red imaginable.
There was no justice in this world.
"Dance or I'll kiss you, Duru."
"What kind of threat is that? Aren't you gay?"
"Being gay doesn't stop me from kissing you, sweetheart."
When he leaned in, I panicked, shoved my hands against his chest, and started dancing.
He laughed triumphantly.
"Did I ever tell you how cute you are when you're embarrassed?"
"You're unbearable."
"And you're adorable."
A few minutes later, the girls joined us, and we danced until we were breathless.
Finally, when my feet went numb, I excused myself to go to the restroom.
"Come back quickly," Mete called. "New Year's is almost here."
As I left the dance floor, I scanned the room.
Most of the older guests had already left. The hall was nearly empty.
I'd even seen Feyza's parents leave earlier.
Which meant the massive ballroom—with endless food and drinks—was all ours.
How tragic!
In the restroom, I washed my hands, smiling to myself. Whatever drama followed tonight, they had no proof to blame us.
And despite my killer heels, I'd danced.
I was proud.
When the restroom door opened, I reflexively looked up at the mirror.
A man stood there, leaning against the door, watching me.
I turned slowly.
"I think you're mistaken. This is the women's restroom."
"I know, sweetheart."
He locked the door.
Panic surged as he approached. I tried to step back—but hit the sink.
"K-Who are you? What do you want?"
"Who I am doesn't matter. As for what I want…"
He raised a knife.
Instinct kicked in. I kicked him hard between the legs. When he doubled over, I shoved him aside and ran for the door.
The key was gone.
I screamed, pounding the door, but the party was far away—and most guests were gone.
A hand grabbed my hair.
"Where do you think you're going? We're just getting started."
He pressed the blade to my neck.
"Let go of me, you psycho bastard."
He laughed, lips brushing my ear.
"I warned your boyfriend what he'd lose if he didn't back off. He didn't listen. Now he gets to see how serious I am."
Pain burned across my neck. Warm liquid spilled onto my chest.
I knew then. I wasn't getting out.
Why did all my plans always end like this?