05| He's In There Somewhere.

Quenten Yilmaz:

A battle of wills brews between me and the kiz of the man who killed my parents.

The instant our eyes met outside the jewellery store earlier today, an undeniable pull towards her enveloped me. It was an utterly unfamiliar sensation, and my heart yearned to dive into the waves of emotion surging within me. Yet, the urgency to locate Julian Kincaid eclipsed any feelings she stirred within me.

Even now, as she sits on the floor before me, looking utterly defeated with tear-stained cheeks and a look of defiance raging in her big green eyes, something deep within me stirs.

It’s a warm sensation that makes my stomach flutter along with my heart, and I fucking loathe it.

No matter how hard I try to pull my gaze away from hers, it remains stubbornly fixated, unwilling to look away. Her beautiful green irises are like two large, captivating orbs that draw me in, rendering me spellbound.

“You’re insane… delusional.” She mutters beneath her breath, her eyes growing wider the instant she realises she has spoken louder than she anticipated when I raise my brows.

“I’ve been called a whole lot worse.” I clench my jaw, grinding my molars together to keep my composure. “I take it that you are staying?”

She slowly nods, lowering her gaze to the ground as her fingers nervously knot themselves together.

Removing the ghost lint from the sleeve of my shirt, I roll my shoulders back, sighing. “A wise decision on your behalf. You will remain here until we are married, and I don't want to see or hear a peep out of you.” I inform her, my tone firm and curt.

Without waiting for her to respond, I exit the room, slamming the door behind me, and I make sure to lock it.

The very last thing I want at this moment is for her to escape, forcing me to waste precious time searching for her. Though the idea of chasing her down does sound undeniably intriguing, my plate is already full enough, and I’m barely keeping my head above water as it is.

Exhaling deeply through my nostrils, I pinch the bridge of my nose, realising that the small encounter with her has drained any civilized demeanor I have left.

“Mr. Yilmaz, the lady of the house has asked for your presence at the dining table. Everyone is waiting for your arrival to begin dinner." Grace speaks softly as she reaches the top of the stairs.

I stared at her for a beat or two, nodding my head. “Have your anne prepare something for our guest and make sure she brings it to her. I don’t want anyone apart from me and your anne entering this room. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Mr. Yilmaz. I will relay the message to my mother right away.” She replies, her gaze shifting to the closed door and then back to me.

I can see on her face that she is dying to know who is on the other side of the door, but I also know that she knows better than to ask me something that does not concern her.

I nod, lightly brushing past her, and descend the stairs, taking them two at a time. I enter the dining room to find that everyone is already seated around the large family table.

The atmosphere is heavy, charged with an undeniable intensity.

I take my place at the head of the table, and my gaze sweeps over the hearty spread that Grace and her anne, Sonia, have prepared for us. Not having much of an appetite, I reach for my glass of water.

“Where are you taking that plate of food?” My babaanne demands an answer as Sonia exits the kitchen with a tray full of food in her hands.

“Upstairs to our guest,” Sonia replies respectfully.

“Who gave you permission to feed that snake?”

“I did,” I respond firmly, my gaze meeting hers as I take a sip from my glass.

My babaanne’s features twist into a look of utter disgust. “You allow that slimy snake to live under this roof, and now you’re feeding her like she is one of us?” She spits out her words with disdain while trying to remain calm.

“She needs to eat.” I reason with her.

Her gaze trails over my face, and when she finally realises that she isn’t going to get more of an explanation from me. “Take that food back to the kitchen and give her some soup.” She orders Sonia.

“As you wish, Ms. Audrey,” Sonia says with a bow, before she dashes back into the kitchen to retrieve a bowl of soup and a bread roll for my soon-to-be wife.

I place my glass back down on the dinner table, clenching my jaw to prevent myself from putting my grandmother in her place in front of everyone seated at the table. “How have you been today, abi?” I avert my attention elsewhere.

Cenk’s gaze doesn’t meet mine as Grace feeds him a spoonful of his favourite soup. She gently dabs his mouth with the soft cotton napkin, wiping the escaping liquid from his lips before continuing to feed him again with tremendous care.

“Have you looked at the brochure I left on your desk?” Emre amca asks me as he stuffs his mouth with food.

“I believed I had expressed myself clearly when you initially raised this topic with me weeks ago.”

“The institute is the best in the country. Cenk will receive round-the-clock care with the best doctors to examine his condition. I know your baba would want this for Cenk, Quenten.”

“Yeter! (Enough!)” I bang my closed hand against the tabletop, causing it to shake as I rise to my feet. “The answer is no, Emre amca. Case closed.”

“Quenten...”

“I said hayir, babaanne.” I snap at her with my gaze boring into my amca's. “There is a dire motive behind his request, and I won’t give him a chance in hell to make Cenk’s life harder than it needs to be.”

He has no say in the matter, given that he's been in and out of our lives, causing chaos, for as long as I can remember.

“He’s a vegetable. How much harder can our dear kuzen’s life get?” Ozan snickers with mockery.

“Do you want to repeat that, kuzen?” I challenge him, placing my gun on the table next to my empty plate, knowing full well he won’t because he lacks the courage to do so.

He shakes his head like a true coward, proving me right.

“Cenk is staying put. This is his home. This is his safe haven, and I am confident that he is in there somewhere. But none of you would know that because you choose not to invest in any genuine time with him." Sliding my piece back into the waistband of my pants, I make my way across the room to where my abi is settled in his wheelchair. I positioned myself behind him, my hands resting on the push handles. “I’m shocked that you would even entertain Emre’s amca suggestion, babaanne.”

Without looking our way, my babaanne’s gaze remains fixated ahead, and she lifts her chin. “Your abi isn’t getting any better, Quenten. Maybe this institute will be the answer to our prayers.”

“I said hayir and that's my final answer. I will not allow my abi to leave my sight, and I will not consider taking him to the institute you have recommended, amca." My voice turns into a vicious snarl when I meet Emre’s amca menacing gaze.

Gods, I fucking despise this man with a passion.

He annoys the fuck out of me just by breathing.

“Someone’s a little paranoid…” Ozan hums with a grin tugging at his lips.

“And I have every right to be.” I spit out with venom. “Cenk is all I have left after your baba failed to protect my parents that fatal night, and up to now, your baba still hasn’t given us an acceptable reason for his whereabouts. For all I know, he could be the mastermind behind this blood feud starting all over again.”

Ozan looks at me as if I’ve just spoken to him in a different language before he snorts. “My baba isn’t smart enough to rub two pebbles together to start a fire, dear kuzen.”

‘Your baba is smarter than you give him credit for, Ozan.’ My soul screams out.

I don’t stick around to have a baseless debate with him, and I start to wheel my abi away from the dinner table with our ill-minded family members seated around it. They seem more like adversaries to me, patiently waiting for the ideal moment to stab me in the back.

“Lütfen (please), bring me a bitter coffee. I’ll be in the living room.” I say to Grace as she walks out of the kitchen.

“Yes, Mr. Yilmaz. Do you want anything for Mr. Cenk?”

I stop walking and turn to face her. “Have you given him his medication?”

“Yes, I gave him his medication before I started to feed him.”

“Then hayir (no), just my coffee, lütfen.”

I park Cenk’s wheelchair beside the lavish red sofa our babaanne handpicked about two years ago, and I sit beside my abi, resting my elbows on my thighs.

I dip my chin, laying my head in my hands. “I wish we could switch places, abi,” I say with a long, deep sigh, trying to expel the stress that clings to my muscles. “Left with no other option but to pacify this feud, I was compelled to bring Julian's kiz to the mansion and force her to marry me. When we arrived at the Kincaid residence today, I couldn't bear the thought of causing innocent bloodshed. I know our anne and baba wouldn’t have wanted it that way.” I lift my head after hanging it in shame and take my abi's hands in mine. “Lütfen, forgive me for being weak and failing you.” Tears cloud my vision, not only because of my cowardly actions, but also due to the daily heartache I experience from my one-sided conversations with Cenk. “Don’t hate me more than I already hate myself,” I beg him, knowing that my heart won’t survive if he does.