Far Side of the Dolunay

Logic. Of course. (1. Bölüm)

A/N: I love the idea that Ferit doesn't know or trust Nazlı very much and he's annoyed with himself for being interested anyway. This chapter considers his confusion.

Ferit looked away from his group and cast his eye over the room, full of the movers and shakers of Istanbul industry who'd managed to snag an invite and shown up determined to get their foot in the door to eastern markets. It was a cosmopolitan vibe, the lights glinting off the crystal glasses filled with champagne, silver tongs clinking against trays as the staff served Japanese-Turkish fusion canapes, the quartet's music floating over the well-coiffed heads and chatter of several languages.

A flash of ice blue drew his eye to the entrance, where a young woman was making her way down the stairs. Something about the long dark hair, the tilt of her head was familiar...

Nazlı? But not the one he knew - not the young girl in the waitress uniform, nor the practical chef in the casual clothes she wore to flit about his kitchen or run around the garden with Bulut. This was a sophisticated, stunning woman. The material of her dress floated around her, leaving the stretch of pearly skin across her collarbones and shoulders bare, and her hair waved down her back, contrasting with the pale column of her neck. 'Nazlı' - 'with beauty', indeed.

The admiration abruptly shifted to annoyance. What was she doing here? Was he never to have respite from the constant chatter and defiance?

She seemed delighted with the reception, a smile lighting her face as she surveyed the scene and took a drink from the waiter - until she turned and saw him, her face dropping and then tightening into a scowl, her eyes glinting.  Ah, there she was.

They moved towards each other until they were face-to-face a few inches apart, eyes locked, stand-off style. Ferit decided to make the first move.

'What are you doing here?'

Her chin lifted, immediately ready to spar. 'Oh, do excuse me, Ferit Bey,' she replied with mock regret, 'but I don't have to tell my boss what I do during my free time.'

He turned his head slightly to hide a smile. He didn't like it being aimed at him, and certainly didn't like it in an employee, but objectively he had to appreciate that she gave as good as she got. It kept things interesting.

'I was just curious as to why you're here,' he placated her. 'You're interested in Japanese culture?'

'Of course I am, I have many interests. I hope you don't think my whole life revolves around your kitchen.' She looked him right in the eyes, unafraid, daring him to challenge her.

He schooled his face to keep the smile under control and tilted back on his heels a little, cocking his head to one side to study the stubborn expression on her face for a moment. She stood firm, refusing to give up whatever point they seemed to be scrapping over. A battle of will wasn't something he usually came up against, but he'd play ball. On his own terms.

'Have a good evening, Nazmiye Hanım.'

She responded sweetly, sugar laced with arsenic, 'Have a good evening, Ferit Bey.'

He turned away, glancing back to give her an involuntary up-and-down, before heading back to his table, only to see Engin watching with a strange look on his face, as though he had something to say.

~-~-~-~-~-~

The Nakatanis departed and took their mediating influence with them, leaving awkwardness behind, the role play finally over. Well, for one of us at least. Nazlı mumbled something about collecting her bag and leaving, but he drew her back into conversation, bringing up the story of the eight-headed snake who drank too much sake.