Hearts of the Bosphorus

Chapter 22

Antonio Mancini

The Istanbul morning bustled with life, a stark contrast to the turmoil in Isabella Adorno's heart. She sat at a corner table in a chic café, nursing a cappuccino that had long since gone cold. Her eyes were fixed on the man across from her, but her mind was on a certain dark eyed broody male.

Antonio Mancini, Italy's top male model and Isabella's best friend, was a vision of perfection. His chiseled jawline and piercing green eyes drew admiring glances from every woman in the café. Isabella couldn't help but smile wryly at the irony – if only they knew.

"...and then Giulia told Francesco that if he ever set foot in her restaurant again, she'd serve his prosciutto to the customers!" Antonio's animated retelling of the latest Milanese gossip was punctuated by his melodious laughter.

Isabella nodded absently, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. It had been three days since that disastrous night at the restaurant, three days since she'd sent that terse message to Omer cancelling their design sessions for a few days with the excuse of illness. Three days of hiding in her apartment, grateful for Antonio's comforting presence and his willingness to model her latest jewelry designs.

"Earth to Bella," Antonio's voice cut through her reverie. He reached across the table, his warm hand covering hers. "Where did you go, tesoro?"

Isabella blinked, focusing on her friend's concerned face. "I'm sorry, Toni. I was just..."

"Thinking about him again?" Antonio's voice was gentle, understanding.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Antonio sighed, pulling out his phone. "Well, let's see what Mr. Tall, Dark, and Married is up to, shall we?"

Isabella winced at the word 'married,' it stung. "Toni, please..."

But Antonio was already scrolling through Omer's social media profiles, his eyes widening appreciatively. "Mamma mia, Bella. This man is like a fine wine – he's only gotten better with age."

Despite herself, Isabella leaned in to look. There was Omer, impeccably dressed as always, his dark eyes smoldering at the camera. She couldn't help but agree.

"Oh, look at this one," Antonio zoomed in on a photo of Omer at a charity gala. "Those shoulders in that tuxedo... Bella, if you don't want him, can I have him? I don't mind being the mistress."

The absurdity of the situation finally broke through Isabella's melancholy. A laugh bubbled up from her chest, surprising them both. "Oh, Toni," she gasped between giggles, "if only you knew."

But as quickly as it came, the laughter faded, replaced by a sob that caught in her throat. "I thought I was over him," Isabella whispered. "I thought I was strong enough to face him, to work with him. But seeing him with her..."

Antonio's brow furrowed. "With who, Bella?"

"His wife," Isabella's voice cracked on the word. "They looked so... intimate."

Antonio's eyes narrowed, a protective fire igniting in their depths. "Are you sure, tesoro? Did you actually speak to them?"

Isabella shook her head, shame coloring her cheeks. "I... I ran away before they saw me."

Antonio's jaw clenched, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by a steely determination. "Bella, listen to me. This man broke your heart once. He doesn't get to do it again."

Before Isabella could respond, Antonio's eyes caught sight of something over her shoulder. A sleek black car was gliding past the café, its tinted window rolled down revealing the handsome face he'd just been looking at.

Omer.

In that moment, an idea sparked in Antonio's mind. If Omer wanted to play games with Isabella's heart, well, two could play at that game.

"Tesoro," he said, his voice honeyed with false innocence, "I think we have an audience. Don't look now, but your ex just drove by."

Isabella's breath caught in her throat.

Antonio nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. "And from the way he slowed down, I'd say he got quite an eyeful. Now, bella mia, trust your Sexy Best and follow my lead."

Before Isabella could protest, Antonio had moved to her side of the table, wrapping his strong arms around her in a comforting embrace. To any observer, it would look like an intimate moment between lovers.

Inside the car, Omer Balik's hands clenched into fists as he took in the scene through the café's large windows. Isabella, his Isabella, wrapped in the arms of a man he'd never seen before.

"Drive," he barked at his chauffeur, his voice rough with suppressed emotion.

As the car pulled away, Omer's mind raced. Who was that man? How long had Isabella known him? Was this why she didn't show up? The questions swirled in his head, each one stoking the flames of his jealousy.

He pulled out his phone, fingers hovering over Isabella's contact information. He should call her, demand an explanation. But what right did he have? They were nothing to each other now – just business associates with a complicated past.

With a growl of frustration, Omer tossed his phone aside. He'd been a fool to think he could rekindle what they'd had. Isabella had clearly moved on. It was time he did the same.

Back in the café, Isabella pulled away from Antonio's embrace, confusion etched on her face. "Toni, what are you doing?"

Antonio's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Teaching Mr. Tall, Dark, and Married a lesson, tesoro. Did you see how he reacted? Our little Omer is jealous."

Isabella's eyes widened in realization. "Toni, no. We can't play games like this. It's not right."

"What's not right is how he treated you," Antonio countered, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "You deserve better, Bella. And if making him squirm a little helps you see that, then so be it."

Isabella bit her lip, torn between her lingering feelings for Omer and her loyalty to Antonio. "I don't know, Toni. This could make everything so much more complicated."

Antonio took her hands in his, his expression softening. "Tesoro, you've been carrying this pain for eight years. It's time to take control of your own story. Besides," he added with a wink, "I'm an excellent actor. And a little jealousy never hurt anyone."

As if on cue, Isabella's phone buzzed with an incoming message. Her heart leapt to her throat as she saw the sender's name.

Omer: We need to talk. Work needs to continue. No more running.

Isabella showed the message to Antonio, her hands shaking slightly. He read it, then looked at her with a mixture of excitement and concern. "Well, tesoro, it seems the universe has made the decision for you."

Isabella nodded, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. With a deep breath, she typed out her reply.

Isabella: Okay.

As she hit send, Isabella felt a whirlwind of emotions. She looked up at Antonio, managing a small smile.

"Will you stay close by tonight? In case I need you?"

Antonio squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Of course, bella. That's what Sexy Best is for, no? I'll be just a phone call away."

As they left the café, arm in arm, neither of them noticed the paparazzo across the street, his camera capturing their intimate moment for all the world to see. By nightfall, the photos would be splashed across every gossip site in Turkey, adding fuel to the fire of misunderstandings that threatened to consume Omer and Isabella's fragile reconnection.