The following morning, I find Defne, Aylin, and Aunt Jansu waiting for me. Their faces are thunderous. They've clearly been waiting for the exact moment my guard was down to interrogate me about the man of the hour.
"Günaydın... is everything okay?"
"When exactly were you planning to tell us you were engaged?"
Serkan's words about keeping the secret from everyone except his mother ring in my head. Does the same rule apply to me?
"Well, Hande?" Jansu stands up. Her hair is the same shade as mine, though shorter and curlier; in old photos, she looks exactly like my mother.
"It... it happened too fast," I stammer.
"And what is he like?" Aylin asks, her eyes bright with an enthusiasm that far outpaces Defne's and my aunt's.
"Intriguing," I say, choosing my words carefully to guard the secret. I've never kept secrets from these three, but Serkan Bolat has forced me into a life of shadows.
My phone rings. It's him. Unusual; he doesn't seem like the type who calls just to chat.
"Hello?"
"Hello. Günaydın. Are you alright?" I step away from the girls to speak in private.
"Are you actually worried about me, Robot?" He lets out a laugh—a sound so infectious it makes me smile despite myself.
"Just checking to see if you caused any more explosions between last night and this morning."
"Everything is perfect. You're the one who causes the trouble, apparently."
"True," he chuckles. "Listen, I called to tell you that in two weeks, we're having an engagement party. I've discussed it with my mother."
"No." He treats me like a lifeless doll, never even bothering to check my schedule.
"Yes. My fiancée should be by my side."
"No, I'm not going. You didn't even ask if I have plans."
"Do you have plans?"
"No, but that's not the point! You can't just act this way."
He laughs again. "Hande," he says, his tone shifting to that blunt, rude edge I know so well. "This conversation is pointless. If you don't have plans, you're coming. You're being stubborn."
"No."
"The media believes we've been engaged for a month. It's best for everyone if we make this official, and fast."
"It hasn't even been two weeks since I ruined my life by meeting you."
"Well, if I weren't such an arrogant, spoiled robot, perhaps you wouldn't have handcuffed me. But then again... it would be a shame to miss out on this 'happy accident'." Serkan's sarcasm is razor-sharp before he hangs up. I can't help but smile; at least he has a sense of humor about this mess.
A text arrives immediately: "Since you don't have plans, I'll pick you up. I expect to see you at the office, Hande Yildiz. And we're going out tomorrow night. Before you roll your eyes, it's part of the contract."
"How can one person be so infuriating?" I mutter to myself. And yet, I can't stop smiling. He's a puzzle I can't solve, which is probably why I can't seem to stay away.
Allah, Allah, Hande, wake up! I scold myself. He is exactly like Osman and your father. I look at the posters of Italy on my wall, focusing on the dream this contract will eventually buy me.
My nerves are frayed. I've never had an engagement party. With Ozan, we were simple dreamers; now, I'm heading into a lion's den of millionaires.
Should I have talked to Ozan? Given him a chance? I know he's been blowing up my phone, but I've ignored every word. I look in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman looking back. My father is back in my life, dictating my heart, and I'm the fake fiancée of Serkan Bolat—a man playing a game to win back an ex who just happens to be my brother's fiancée.
"Hande?" Defne appears in the doorway. She looks anything but happy. "Is this engagement story for real? Like, for real? What about Ozan?"
"Ozan and I weren't compatible, Defne."
"Oh, sure. And you and Serkan are?" She looks at me with a judging glare.
"Why are you so sure we aren't?"
"Whatever," she snaps and walks out.
"Well, Hande, it looks like the chaos has followed you home." I'm wearing wide-leg trousers, a fitted top, and a sharp blazer. I look like a woman who knows what she wants. The reality couldn't be further from the truth.
Serkan is waiting downstairs. I stare at him, confused. "What are you doing here?"
"Günaydın, Hande," he says, flashing a devastatingly charming smile. "It only makes sense to pick up my fiancée, especially since you start working at my firm today."
"At your father's firm, you mean," I snap, knowing exactly which buttons to push.
"Günaydın," I mutter, climbing into the car. He's already reached his limit for politeness. We spend the journey in silence. Serkan has a way of consuming all my civility until I'm ready for war. I've only ever felt this way with my father and brother, but with Serkan, it's... spontaneous.
When we arrive at Art Life, Ozan is standing by the entrance.
"What is he doing here?" Serkan asks, his brow furrowing. I feel a surge of fury.
"Hande! Hande, please! You have to listen to me, I'm begging you!" Ozan shouts.
"We have nothing to talk about, Ozan."
"I think Hande was very clear," Serkan adds, his voice cold and dangerously determined to take control.
"Great. Because I'm the newest architect hired by this firm. If you don't listen to me now, you'll have to listen eventually." Ozan crosses his arms. Serkan and I share a look of total disbelief.
"Who hired you?" Serkan demands.
"A woman named Selim."
My heart sinks. There's no way she didn't know who he was. I nod slowly to Ozan, placing a hand gently on Serkan's arm to keep him moving. He responds by pulling me into a firm embrace, leaning down to whisper in my ear with that same terrifyingly effective charm.
"If you need me, just call." His voice is like velvet—offering a sense of security that is just as unsettling as his threats.
Ozan pulls me to the sidewalk. "I'm listening," I say, crossing my arms.
"My family is in financial ruin, Hande," Ozan blurs out.
"And what does that have to do with the girl I saw at the party?"
"Osman paid me to go with her. I didn't have the money to get back to Turkey. My family paid their debts with the money your brother gave me, on the condition that I take her out. I didn't know you'd be there. I didn't want you to see me like that... broken."
My breath hitches. So that's how my father knew. My brother set him up. "Ozan... I..." I don't know what to say. I accepted a job from my father for the same reason. I'm a fake fiancée for the same reason. What makes us different? "Why would Osman do this after all this time?"
"I don't know," Ozan says, frustrated. "But I know one thing: you aren't really engaged."
"Serkan is different, Ozan," I lie, trying to protect the only leverage I have left.
"I'll prove to you that I'm the right man for you." Ozan steps in and kisses my cheek delicately. My heart warms, but the trust is gone.
I walk into Serkan's office. He's analyzing documents, his eyes tracking my every move. "So?"
"His reason... it might be valid. For that night at the party."
"And? Did you run back into his arms?" Serkan looks up, trying to predict my movements. He confessed he doesn't have that power over me, and it shows in the tension in his jaw.
"I told him I was committed," I say, meeting his gaze. "But it won't stop him from trying to win me back."
Serkan takes my hand and kisses it with unexpected tenderness. "Then I suppose I'll have to redouble my efforts to make you love me even more."
"What?" I look at him, bewildered. Just then, the doors swing open. It's Selim and Ozan.
"Merhaba. Sorry to interrupt," Selim says with a plastic smile. Serkan is already back in character, his movements suddenly fluid and natural.
"Last night's dinner was quite... peculiar, wasn't it, Hande?" Selim says, handing papers to Serkan while eyeing me with a challenge.
"Dinner?" Ozan asks, his voice rising.
"Yes. Hande, her brother, her father, and I were supposed to have a quiet dinner, but our surprise guest, Serkan, brought quite a bit of 'turbulence' to the evening." She's loving this. She definitely knew who Ozan was.
"You took Serkan to dinner with your father?" Ozan demands, sounding hurt.
Serkan stands up and places a possessive, calculated hand on my waist. I try to brush it off, but eventually, I give in.
"Is there a problem, Ozan?" Serkan asks, his voice a challenge.
"None. I just didn't expect Hande to move so fast."
"I think people can surprise us, don't you, Ozan? Especially someone like Hande."
The air in the room is thick enough to choke on. Selim finally pivots back to work, and we all pretend the tension isn't there. It's a lie, but in this room, lies are the only currency we have.