Hearts of the Bosphorus

Chapter 15

A Fragile Truce

The afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of the Adorno Industries office, casting a warm glow across the sleek, minimalist decor. Isabella stood by her desk, glancing into the mirrored glass that lined the far wall. She straightened the collar of her fitted cream blouse, smoothing the fabric where it tucked into her high-waisted charcoal trousers. Her dark curls framed her face in soft waves, and she had applied her makeup with a careful hand—just enough to enhance her features without looking like she'd tried too hard.

She took a steadying breath, willing the flutter of nerves in her chest to settle. Today marked the beginning of the collaboration between Adorno Industries and Balik International, and despite everything, she knew she had to maintain her composure. She couldn't afford to show any cracks in her façade, not in front of Omer.

As she turned toward the window, her thoughts drifted back to their brief but tense phone call. He had been courteous, almost too formal, as if he were putting up walls of his own. But beneath his smooth words, she had sensed the old frustration simmering just below the surface. It had been like facing a stranger, and yet, in the way he said her name, she'd caught a hint of the Omer she once knew.

She shook her head, banishing the thought. Focus, Isabella. This wasn't about their past; it was about securing the future of Adorno Industries. She had to believe that they could get through this collaboration without letting old wounds get in the way.

She turned back to her desk, gathering the sketches and design proposals she had prepared for their first meeting. Just as she slid them into her leather portfolio, her phone buzzed with a message from Clara, her assistant.

Mr. Balik has arrived, Mrs. Adorno.

Isabella's pulse quickened, but she forced herself to respond calmly.

Please show him to the design room.

Omer stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor of Adorno Industries, his expression set in a mask of polite indifference. He had chosen his favorite dark blue suit for the occasion, its tailored lines emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean frame. He caught his reflection in the polished elevator doors as they slid shut behind him, noting the way his hair was neatly combed back, his face freshly shaven.

He told himself that he hadn't dressed up for her—that his appearance was simply a matter of maintaining a professional image. But as he crossed the marble lobby toward the design room, a part of him couldn't help but wonder what she would think when she saw him. Would she notice the differences that time had carved into his features? Would she see the man he had become and recognize the remnants of the boy he'd once been?

Clara, Isabella's assistant, met him with a polite smile, guiding him through the glass doors that led into the spacious design room. The space was airy and filled with natural light, a large wooden table dominating the center of the room, surrounded by sketches, fabric swatches, and prototypes of the new jewelry line they would be working on.

Isabella was already there, standing by the table with her back to him as she arranged a series of drawings. At the sound of footsteps, she turned, her eyes meeting his. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, the air between them crackling with unspoken words and memories.

But then she straightened, offering a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Mr. Balik. Thank you for coming."

He returned her smile with equal politeness, inclining his head. "Ms. Adorno. It's good to see that you're as punctual as ever."

Her smile tightened, a flicker of something—perhaps amusement, perhaps annoyance—crossing her face. "Let's hope we can make the most of that today."