Stay with me

Chapter 40 - Necklace of fiery opals

On December 20, the sun was shining in Istanbul, not at all like winter.

"Even it's on my side!" - thought Deniz Tranba and smiled broadly.

Throwing back the flaps of his impeccable tuxedo and placing his hands in his trouser pockets, he stood on the balcony of the Ciragan Palace and gazed at the blue waters of the Bosphorus. Behind him, wedding agency workers were finishing the decoration of the hall. Garlands of white lilies and pale pink roses adorned the railing of the stairs and balconies. Bouquets of the same flowers were placed on tables covered with snow-white tablecloths and hung in a cascade over the cream marble columns.

Crystal lamps were everywhere. Their large beads refracted light and shone with a brilliant shine. An orchestra was tuning its instruments in the corner. In the hotel kitchen, dozens of chefs worked on delicious dishes. A five-tiered cake awaited its turn in a huge refrigerator, looking more like a work of art than a confection. And upstairs, in one of the luxurious rooms, the eccentric bride dressed in an amazing dress from the famous Parisian couturier.

The worries that a decent wedding cannot be organized in a month turned out to be empty. Deniz arranged everything. And now, standing on the balcony and breathing in deeply the cold, sea air, he was proud of himself and smiled with satisfaction. The Shrew was tamed and in an hour she will become his wife!

Omer had already paced the living room for half an hour. Nervously adjusting the bow tie and the belt on his trousers, he glanced at his watch and frowned. Stopping near the stairs, he looked up and called loudly:

- Defne! Where are you? We are late!

The silence was the answer. Sighing, he ran up the steps and entered the room. Defne in a purple evening dress was sitting on the bed and holding matching shoes in her hands. She looked in front of her and bit her lip. Omer came over and squatted down in front of her. Adjusting the necklace of fire opals on her chest, he turned to frown and asked:

- What's the matter?

"I'm afraid," she replied.

Oh no! Again his wife came up with a problem out of the blue. Omer stroked the spot on the neck where the pulse was beating with his thumb and inquired.

- What?

- There will be your and Iz's old acquaintances and friends whom I do not know.

- I'll introduce you, - promised.

- What if they don't like me, and they will laugh at you for the fact that Omer Iplikci married a girl, not from his circle?

Omer took the shoes from her hands. Raising the hem of the dress, he carefully put them on her graceful feet and raised his face to his wife. Mechanically stroking her thin ankle, he spoke:

- Defne, again? I thought you already got rid of those thoughts. All these conventions about people of the same circle are such nonsense. We are not living in the eighteenth century. Worthy people will never talk about such a topic. And if there are such snobs, what do we care? Let them talk, and I will enjoy the company of my beautiful wife.

Defne sighed.

"You don't understand what it's like to feel unworthy. You have always been at the top, you have always been proud ... and now you can afford such a luxury - not to pay attention to evil tongues.

"And you can," Omer said confidently. - Because the owners of these very evil tongues do not stand a fingernail on your pretty little finger, - he kissed that very little finger and ordered: - Get up and let's go to the wedding. They are waiting for us and if we don't hurry, we will be late. But this will be unkindly to the bride and groom.