Chapter Eighty-three
"Who the hell is Demir?"
Markus leaned back, saying nothing at first, letting the question settle, letting Ahmet sit with it. I'm his chair, Ahmet's fingers impatiently drummed against the polished wood.
The tapping stopped when he noticed Markus was only trying to pull the little patience left in him. Markus watched the shift as he lost his control, before finally speaking. "He's her childhood crush" Ahmet furrowed his brow.
Demir.
Something in Ahmet stilled.
The title lodged itself in his mind, repeating like an offbeat rhythm, irritating just beneath the surface. He didn't know the guy. Had never heard of him. And yet, suddenly, Demir mattered.
Too much. 'Asli's childhood crush'
His jaw clenched. His fingers curled into a fist against the arm of the chair. He did not like the way the name sat in his head. The name sounded heavy, intrusive, and unwelcome. Like a problem that demanded to be handled.
