Hearts of the Bosphorus

Chapter 24

Roads Not Taken

The sleek glass façade of Balik International's headquarters gleamed in the morning sun, the building standing like a beacon above the bustling heart of Istanbul. It was a Friday, and the usually brisk pace of the corporate world had softened as both Adorno and Balik teams gathered outside, chatting and mingling in the excitement of their upcoming retreat. Suitcases and duffel bags lined the pavement, and a handful of sleek black SUVs were parked in a neat row, ready to transport everyone to the coastal resort where they would be spending the next few days.

Isabella stood slightly apart from the others, her hands clasped together as she watched her team load their luggage into the cars. She wore a light, flowing dress in a soft shade of green that caught the morning breeze, her hair loose around her shoulders. But despite her outward composure, she couldn't quite shake the knot of tension in her chest. This retreat had seemed like a good idea when they had planned it—an opportunity to strengthen their collaboration. But now, the thought of spending more time in Omer's presence, away from the structure of the office, made her feel exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn't felt in years.

Her gaze drifted across the small crowd and landed on Omer, who was talking to one of the drivers by the lead SUV. He was dressed in casual slacks and a white linen shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The relaxed attire did nothing to diminish the sharp lines of his posture or the intensity in his dark eyes. He caught sight of her, and for a moment, their eyes met across the distance.

Omer's expression softened slightly, and he gestured toward his car, a glint of challenge in his smile. "Why don't you ride with me, Isabella?" he called out, his tone easy but laced with something more, something that made her pulse quicken.

Isabella hesitated, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Her team was busy talking amongst themselves, and most of the Balik staff had already begun climbing into the waiting cars. She swallowed, steeling herself against the flutter of nerves in her chest.

"I think it's better if I stick with my team, Mr. Balik," she replied, her voice cool but not unkind. "We have a few things to discuss on the way."

Before Omer could respond, a small voice rang out from behind her. "Mr. Balik! Can I come with you?"

Both of them turned to see Marco running toward Omer's car, his backpack bouncing on his shoulders. He wore an eager grin, his eyes wide with excitement at the prospect of riding in the sleek SUV. Isabella's heart gave a little jolt at the sight of him, a part of her instinctively wanting to call him back, to keep him close. But the look on Marco's face, so hopeful and carefree, stopped her.

Omer crouched down to Marco's level, his expression softening in a way that Isabella rarely saw. "You want to ride with me, Marco?" he asked, his voice gentler than she had heard it in a long time.

Marco nodded enthusiastically, clutching the straps of his backpack. "Yes! I want to see if your car goes fast like the ones in the movies."

Omer chuckled, casting a glance up at Isabella as he ruffled Marco's hair. "Well, I don't know about movie speeds, but I think we can make it a fun ride. What do you say, Ms. Adorno? Can I take your passenger?"

Isabella hesitated again, her resolve wavering under the warmth in Omer's gaze and the eager light in Marco's eyes. She knew it would be easier to insist on taking her own car, to keep the boundaries she had built between herself and Omer firmly in place. But Marco's hand slipped into hers, tugging gently, and she felt her defenses soften.

"All right, Marco," she said with a resigned smile. "But only if I come too. I wouldn't want Mr. Balik to get tired of your questions."

Marco's grin widened, and he let out a triumphant cheer as he scrambled into the backseat of Omer's car. Omer opened the passenger door for Isabella, a gesture that felt oddly intimate in its simplicity. She slid into the front seat, her heart beating a little too fast as she buckled her seatbelt.

Omer climbed into the driver's seat beside her, glancing sideways at her with an amused smile as he started the engine. "I promise, I'm a careful driver."

She forced a light laugh, though the nearness of him, the faint scent of his cologne filling the air between them, made her feel anything but calm. "Let's hope so. I'd hate to explain to my team why their CEO ended up in a ditch."

Omer's smile widened, a flash of warmth in his eyes that made her chest tighten, and for a moment, she allowed herself to relax into the conversation. But as they pulled out onto the road, the easy banter gave way to a more comfortable silence, and she found herself stealing glances at Omer out of the corner of her eye.

The drive wound along the coast, the sparkling blue of the Bosphorus visible through the trees that lined the highway. Marco chatted happily from the backseat, asking Omer about everything from the types of cars he owned to whether he liked rollercoasters. Omer answered each question with surprising patience, occasionally glancing at Marco in the rearview mirror with a small smile that made something soften inside Isabella's chest.

It almost feels like... She stopped the thought before it could take root, but the idea lingered, unspoken, in the quiet moments of the drive. She couldn't help but think of how different their lives might have been if things hadn't gone so terribly wrong all those years ago—if she had stayed in Istanbul, if the misunderstandings between them had never come between them. Would they have been sitting like this, with Marco in the backseat, making plans for a weekend trip?

Omer's thoughts seemed to follow a similar path. He stole glances at Isabella, noting the way the sunlight played through the strands of her hair, the way her expression softened when she turned to listen to Marco. A pang of regret twisted inside him, sharp and unyielding. He had told himself he was done thinking about the past, done imagining what might have been. But now, with Marco's laughter filling the car and Isabella sitting just inches away, he couldn't help but feel the ache of a life that had slipped through his fingers.

He's not yours, Omer, he reminded himself bitterly, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. Marco belongs to another man. But even as he told himself that, he couldn't shake the sense of familiarity he felt around the boy—the easy way they interacted, as if they had known each other longer than a few weeks. It was a connection that felt both natural and painful, and he found himself wondering what it would have been like if Marco were his own son.

The thought left a hollow ache in his chest, a longing he couldn't quite banish. He pushed the feeling away, focusing instead on the road ahead, but the silence that settled between him and Isabella was thick with unspoken words, with memories of a time when they had believed in a future together.

They arrived at the resort in the early afternoon, the sprawling grounds stretching out before them in a wash of green and gold under the summer sun. The rest of the team had already begun to unload their bags, their voices carrying across the parking lot. Marco scrambled out of the car first, darting off to explore the edge of a nearby garden, leaving Omer and Isabella alone by the SUV.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, caught in the lingering weight of the drive. Omer turned to her, his expression unexpectedly soft as he leaned against the car door. "It wasn't such a bad drive, was it?"

Isabella met his gaze, and she felt the words she had been holding back rise up like a wave. It could have been different. It could have been better. But she forced herself to smile, nodding as she gestured toward Marco. "He certainly seemed to enjoy it. Thank you for humoring him."

Omer's lips twitched into a smile, but his eyes remained shadowed, the regret still lingering there. "I didn't mind. He's a good kid." He paused, then added more quietly, "You've done well with him."

Isabella felt a lump rise in her throat, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. She looked away, blinking back the unexpected sting of emotion. "Thank you," she said softly, before she turned to follow Marco toward the entrance, leaving Omer standing beside the car, his thoughts tangled in the possibilities that might have been.