2. Evren #2
I squeeze the stress ball tighter in my fist and blow out a long breath.
It’s okay, I’ll find a way out of this mess.
I have to. After a call to the lawyers to inform them about the situation, I dive into researching new companies.
I’m looking for ones that are up-and-comers and aren’t already backing a different team.
Hours later, my phone buzzes with an incoming call.
“ Annem ,” I answer, the Turkish word for my mom . “How are you?”
“Good and I’ll be happier once you meet Deniz tonight and tell me you hit it off.”
Deniz?
I glance at the time. Oh shit. The latest woman Mom’s convinced I’ll fall in love with and get married to.
Apparently, forty-four is too old to still be single, and she’s determined to find me a match since I moved to the US.
It’s become her new hobby, but it’s a hopeless cause.
She doesn’t know that not one person has dated me in the last fifteen years because they really wanted me.
Instead, they just wanted access to my money or my connections.
If only Mom would put the same amount of energy into helping my younger brother, Zeki, get his life straightened out.
“Right,” I say. “Deniz. I’ll head over to the restaurant now.”
“Perfect,” Mom says. “She’s a neurosurgeon from Istanbul and?—”
“You don’t have to run through her CV with me. I’d like to find out about her naturally.”
“Of course, of course. I think she might be the one.”
“Hmm.” What more can I say? I don’t go on these dates hoping to find true love.
I go just to have a break in the loneliness that’s haunted me for too long and to also pretend I’m not working myself into oblivion.
There’s the added benefit that I get to sit down for a hot meal that isn’t a protein bar scarfed between meetings or cold takeout eaten alone in a house too big for one person—my only indulgence when I moved here.
“Have you heard from Zeki lately?” she asks.
“No, why?” Of course, she brings up Zeki. She can’t talk to me for longer than a few minutes without shifting the conversation to him. He’s fifteen years younger than me and hasn’t worked a day in his life. Well, if you don’t count partying and lifting a drink to his mouth.
“He hasn’t been answering my calls.”
Ever since Dad died five years ago, Mom expects us to answer anytime she calls, which is normally multiple times a week. But Zeki likes to conveniently not answer, leaving me to deal with the fallout. Like always.
“Fine,” I say, tired at having yet another thing added to my to-do list. “I’ll track him down now. Love you, and talk later.”
“Love you, too.”
I hang up and call Zeki once I’m in my car and heading to the restaurant.
“ Naber? Nasilsin?” Zeki answers on the eighth ring. Music plays in the background, so loudly I have to lower the speaker volume.
“ Anne is looking for you.”
He snorts. “When is she not?”
“I know, but if you don’t call her, she’s going to file a missing person report.”
“I’ll call her later. I’m in the middle of something right now.”
“And where is this something?” I ask.
“Cancún. Why don’t you take that aircraft of yours and visit me?”
“Pfft, you only want me to come so you can get a ride back to the US.”
“Do not.”
“Do too, and there’s no point when you’d get bored in Skyrise.
” It’s also why I was happy to move here, somewhere that’s much smaller and quieter than anywhere Mom or Zeki would prefer.
I love them, but sometimes I feel more like their parent than anything else.
They rely on me for everything—financially, emotionally—and that weight.
..it’s heavy. Putting some physical distance between us helps me manage this role reversal, with Mom in Miami and Zeki bouncing between my houses, living his carefree life.
Maybe when I sell the team, I’ll try that lifestyle too—see what it’s like to not have everyone lean on me constantly.
“Never say never,” he says. “I’m actually planning to visit you soon.”
“Oh?” The word comes out before I can stop it, flat and a little too sharp.
“Don’t say it like that.”
I pause and ask, “Like what?”
“Like you don’t believe me.”
“Well… I’ve lived here for almost a year, and you haven’t once visited.”
“Exactly,” he says. “That’s why it’s time to change that.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“No.”
“You sure?” I press, still not understanding his sudden interest in Skyrise.
“Why? Do I have to be in trouble to visit you?”
“No, of course not.”
An awkward silence stretches between us. It’s times like these where I wish we were just brothers instead of having this undercurrent of me being like a second father to him .
“Right,” he says, “well, what are you doing that’s so important that you can’t come here?”
“I’m on the way to dinner…”
“On another date?” He cackles. “I’m so glad it’s you and not me.”
“One day anne will set you up on a date and I’ll be sure to remind you of this moment.”
“Petty, I like it.” I can hear the grin in his voice. “See you soon.”
He disconnects before I can remind him to call anne again.
I sigh and pull up to the valet at Nar, the only Mediterranean restaurant in town.
It’s owned by a distant friend of Mom’s and she’s a firm believer in supporting anyone’s business in her friendship circle.
It’s how I ended up with her sending me one thousand handmade soaps one random Thursday afternoon.
Soaps I promptly donated to multiple shelters since who needs one thousand of them?
The hostess recognizes me immediately and brings me to the private room I insist upon using every time I come. Nate, my head of security, takes his usual post outside the door. He’s the best there is—always keeping me safe, never in the way.
Fifteen minutes later, Deniz finally walks in and I’m already over this date. Being late is a no-go. We’re all busy, and to me, it’s a sign of disrespect.
“ Merhaba ,” she greets me, air-kissing each of my cheeks.
Her black, figure-hugging dress shows off her lithe body. She’s pretty in a predictable way, her features all perfectly agreeable. But there’s a fakeness to it, like it’s all curated, that I can’t put my finger on.
“ Merhaba .” I return the greeting and gesture for Deniz to sit down across from me.
Before she’s even settled into the chair, she’s already launching into her background. After her spiel, she peppers me with questions, and this whole interaction feels like the beginning of a strange business deal rather than a date.
When Deniz smiles with her teeth showing, I can’t help but compare it to Nina’s from last night.
Nina’s smile is trouble and challenge entwined.
She doesn’t smile with her full mouth, but with just a quirk in the right corner, like she knows a secret and isn’t willing to share.
It’s intriguing and mesmerizing, just like the rest of her.
When Deniz runs a hand through her stick-straight, highlighted hair, it barely moves, and it makes me yearn for Nina’s long, thick brown waves instead.
It’s been months since I first met Nina, and I can’t seem to stop thinking about her. And now? Comparing my date to Nina? It’s…pathetic.
Finally, when the dinner ends, we walk to the valet to get our cars.
“Thank you for tonight,” Deniz says. “Maybe we can do this again?”
“Probably not.”
She winces and I regret not filtering through my words first to make them more palatable. In business, cutting through the bullshit and making clear my expectations has brought me success, but this habit is starting to bleed into my personal life more and more.
“Sorry,” I say, “that came out wrong. What I meant to say is that I’m swamped with work right now. But maybe I can call you when things settle down?” I don’t mean it, but again, it’s the appropriate thing to say.
“I’d like that.” She gives me a flirty smile before climbing into her Audi.
The second I’m in my car, it’s like I’m right back where I started—alone.
The drive home feels longer, the silence heavier, like a weight pressing on my chest. It’s the slow realization that I’m going back to an empty house, a bed that hasn’t been slept in more than three hours at a time, and piles of work I should’ve been doing instead of meeting with Deniz.
The off-season is my time to do a deep dive into every area in the team, clean up any issues Harold left behind, and get every aspect of the business working perfectly. All to entice the right buyer.
Nate pulls in behind my car and talks with one of his men who is in charge of watching my house.
I unlock my front door and step…into water?
What the hell?
“Nate,” I say urgently, flipping on the light. He’s next to me in an instant and there’s water everywhere, a good couple inches of it.
“Stay here,” he demands, taking out his gun and using hand signals to have the others spread out and canvas the house.
Since becoming a billionaire, I’ve dealt with my share of threats—robbery, stalkers, and extortion.
Enough to make me cautious, enough to push me into mastering self-defense and make sure Mom and Zeki can hold their own.
Getting robbed at gunpoint outside an airfield in Spain five years ago was a turning point.
Since then, I’ve made sure to have security on myself, Mom, and Zeki at all times.
Nate reappears minutes later with a frown. “All sinks and bathtubs are running, but the handles aren’t on. No one is in or has been in the house.”
I whip out my phone and open my house app. All the sinks and the bathtubs are set to “on,” and the stop-fill feature, which stops the water at a specific level, is turned off. The kitchen sink doesn’t have an autofill feature, but apparently it does now.
“Someone hacked the system?” I ask, swiping each water source and turning it into the “off” position. How? It’s state-of-the-art and supposed to be unhackable.
“It appears that way. Come, let’s get you somewhere safe while we discuss this more.” He gestures to his car, one of his men already in the driver’s seat.
“And my home?” I ask.
“There’s a lot of damage. Repairs will take months, at least.”
Rage fills me at his statement. Whoever did this is putting me out of the house I love so much. The home I’ve worked hard to make in my new city, in my new country. It’s the one thing I love in Skyrise…and now it’s ruined.
With endless questions swirling around in my head, I get into Nate’s car and add finding a new home to my endless to-do list.