Hana “I am supposed to have a meeting with Mr. Hendrix.” Bash reminds me, his palms resting on my table. He leaned closer, his expression stoic as always that one wouldn’t believe that he was the same person who held me two days back and whispered sweet nothings in my ear when I was trembling from a nightmare. For a second I thought we went back to how we used to be, that whatever happened at the penthouse is another drunken mistake. I quickly checked my notepad. I did write about the meeting that needs to be scheduled but I didn’t schedule it. The day before yesterday I thought of scheduling it the next day. Yesterday, I met with a few stakeholders along with Dahlia. “I wasn’t here yesterday.” I tried to reason. “You’re supposed to schedule it the day before yesterday. Surely, you heard that from Dahlia.” He looked annoyed now, something I haven’t been habituated to, not yet. “You can’t survive with this attitude here. You better pack your bags.” Nothing in the way he

HANA I have read hundreds of news articles about Alexander King and none mentioned Bash's name in it. How did they two relate to each other? I dug in more, and one article wrote about the attacks on Alexander King a few years ago followed by the death of Remo Mancini, who was rumoured to be the consigliere of some Cosa Nastra. It is just like a novel. Ahmet told me that Elio had started searching for Bash after his son's death. Now I wonder if Alexander killed Elio's son. I put my phone back into my bag and concentrated on the Sandwich in my hand, and wished it was Gelato instead and I was with Bash in his office while he looked at me as though I would disappear if he looked away. Bash and I are finally falling into a routine. We talk when we are at the office. He gave me a new phone which I use to text him and when he replies, which he rarely does, we stay for hours until our fingers hurt with all the typing. Sometimes he would disappear, and he wouldn

HANA I caressed Seb's head gently. He fell asleep on my chest after playing for the whole day. How is that even possible? He couldn't even sit without our support. At least, not yet. But we played a lot, and I felt so exhausted by the time he was asleep. "Put him in the cradle, Hana. You have to eat." Shalini reminded me for the fifth time. I shook my head, not wanting to miss the feel of Seb sleeping on me. God, I miss him. I miss his toothless grin and little coos. "Hana," Shalini started to lose her cool now. I better move my ass. I reluctantly put him in the crib and walked into the kitchen. I flew to Istanbul on Saturday morning right after the night when Bash asked me to leave one more time and made clear that my being there was not helping him. I wasn't angry with the way he left the things and walked away. I started to realise that he was speaking the truth, and it hurt more than anything. Instead of going after him and pulling silly stunts, I f

BASH "Thousand euros. That's a cat's shit." "Two thousand euros. That's cow dung." "Three....." "Shut the fuck up," I yell at the two brothers who were so engrossed in betting on the new painting Hana bought with the money she stole from me. She is getting better at this. The breach wasn't identified after three minutes not before. I asked my team to back down before they shut further access for her just so I could see what kind of painting she would buy this time. The grosser the painting was, the angrier Hana was. It's a dick move. I knew it. She is letting me walk all over her. She is not backing down. And the painting was delivered to the private club. Celia might have told her where to find me. But the worst part is, Alex and his brother betting on what that shit was on the canvas. As if I don't have enough shit going on in my life. "I am going to ask Alessandro to kill you both," I warned them. The chances of me asking Alessandro for a fa

BASH I hate that look; the look of hope, of spring and future. I hate it when she did that. Because I have to crush it and stomp it down. She didn't put up a fight this time. She left suddenly, and slowly. I slumped down into my chair, looking outside the city with a very dark future awaiting me. This should be supposed to be a victory. She left. I should be at ease. I should tell myself how fucking safe it was for her now that she is out of the picture. But my heart wants something else. It raced when she stood outside the elevator, holding her things. I was expecting another fight, another painting, another Don't-do-this-Bash dialogue. She might have expected a grand don't-go gesture from me. I knew that flicker in her eyes when she hoped for something good. But she and I were never good. I gave her a nod, watching that little flame of hope dying, and she hung her head to go back. "Hana is gone," Dhalia informed me as soon as she walked into my office. "She left a n