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The soft sunlight pouring into the Firtina office lights up dust swirls. It touches the dark wood of the desk and the leather of the high chair - then is sucked into the black of Serif Firtina’s hair.
Fadime clenches her fist and wonders why today of all days she leaves her gun unholstered in her jeep. The remembrance of Iso Firtina standing outside, all golden haired and irritating, flashes through her mind. She had jumped out the jeep, ready to bother the Golden Boy, her most annoying smirk pasted on - and in the process, had clearly abandoned her gun in the side compartment.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
Each successive cursing in her head reaches new decibels as her hand grasps desperately at the empty holster at her belt.
“Ah Fadime.”
The utter bastard has the gall to smirk at her. Fadime, not for the first or last time, wishes Serif Firtina a long, painful, head long fall down the Trabzon cliffs. Preferably at her hand.
“Now, it’s been a while hasn’t it?”
The man the murderermurderermurderer takes one step closer, and before Fadime can wonder if spitting at his face would be worth the bullet through her head, a leather-clad shoulder is in her way.
Her nose is suddenly engulfed in a scent of mint and pine, and the arm that curves around her waist to pull her behind feels too warm for the room.
She gapes at the back of Iso Firtina’s golden head - or rather with as tall as he is - gapes at his leather-clad shoulders.
“Amca”. It comes out like a gritted curse. And Fadime, pokes her head out from behind to watch Serif Firtina’s face flash with some unholy delight.
“Now, Iso, is that really the way to greet your Amca?” The drawl of Serif’s voice makes Iso tense, shoulders going rigid and the arm still hovering near Fadime to clench to a fist.
“What the hell are you doing here - why the fuck are you in my office - ”
“Ah ah. What a disrespectful nephew you are. I’m still the head of Firtina, Iso, and this is my office. Didn’t you see the plaque right outside the door? All golden and pretty - it says Serif Firtina, no?”
Iso lets out a sharp breath.
“So those new machines, it was you, wasn’t it?”
Serif hums, head tilted idly as he takes in the strange sight of Iso Firtina protecting Fadime Kocari.
“Well, you see, I come out of jail and ‘lo and behold, my poor nephews have made a mess of things. I figured I’ll start setting things right. Get the factory up and running. Can’t have the Firtina going broke before my dear nephews inherit their share.”
Iso takes a furious step forward, still carefully blocking Fadime’s sight of the infuriating man.
“And where the fuck did you get this money Amca?”
Serif tilts his head, strange and abrupt like some bird of prey - it sends cold slivers up Fadime’s spine. The man is a psychopath. A murderer. Not for the last time, she wishes she is armed. She wonders briefly, if Balli could have lived if she had been armed - if she could have fought somehow instead of being butchered like a dog by this bastard.
The hearty laugh Serif lets out startles both Iso and Fadime, at odds with the danger they both know the man is capable of.
“Well, Iso, I can’t be giving up all my secrets to you. Wouldn’t be fair, you see. Not with Oruc trying to sneak his little revolution over me.”
At this Serif steps closer - Iso shifts till he covers Fadime entirely - and watches with gritted teeth as the man suddenly slaps his thigh.
“You know what? I think I’ve realized something - you two look great together! Really. It’s just hitting me now”
Fadime gapes at the madman. Iso fights the urge to pinch his brow and instead watches his Amca with narrowed eyes.
“In fact. I think I ship you. That’s what the young people say these days, right Fadime?” The accompanying finger guns at the statement drops Fadime’s jaw even more. This man - this man is a psycho.
A psycho she wants to strangle.
Her sudden pounce is caught by a strong arm, and Fadime feels the entirely strange feeling of being pressed up to Iso Firtina. He mumbles a warning into her hair, and the warm breath near her ear nearly distracts her from Serif’s grin.
Still chuckling lightly, he strides past the duo then pauses at the door, head cocked like he just remembered something.
“Oh. And one more thing Iso. I hear there’s a wedding tonight.” The small sound Iso makes at that makes Fadime glance up in concern.
“My dear nephew is getting married, and no one thought to invite me! What a strange thing. But it might’ve slipped your minds, not to worry. Your Amca will be there. All is forgiven, Iso. Let Oruc know.”
Here the light tone is dropped to something slower, a rasp that is more fitting to the man than anything he had used before.
“And, on that note, one more thing.
Tell Esme. I’ll be expecting her home.”
The swing of the door lets a rush of cool air from the hallway enter the office. Fadime watches as Iso runs a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. With jerky, frantic motions, he pulls his phone from his pocket, and sends a text - Fadime guesses the Firtina Mansion will be on high alert after the madman’s threats.
She groans internally, realizing she’ll also have to tell Abi about this mess. Especially after the threat to Esme. With him roaming like a rabid wolf ready to bury the Firtina maniac, Fadime wonders how the fuck she’s going to keep him from going to jail.
Esme Firtina, for all that Fadime is fed up with the woman, doesn’t deserve the bastard that is Serif. In a way she can understand why Abi is going mad with worry at the thought of Esme returning to the mansion - but Allah help Fadime if she loses her Abi in this whole mess.
And no matter what the blockhead says, loving her and Elini (and Esme, Fadime grudgingly admits), from behind bars is not going to happen. Not on her watch.
She groans once more. She’ll have to scheme with Esme Firtina of all people to keep her idiot of an Abi safe. The world might as well implode right now before pigs start flying across Kocari mountains.
Speaking of pigs flying.
Fadime turns to Iso, still typing on his phone, and lets out a hum.
The sound brings his golden head up sharply, blue eyes locking with hers. The worry and panic in them forms a small lump in Fadime’s throat before she clears it.
“Iso Firtina. Did you just try to protect me from your Amca?”
Now it's Fadime’s turn to watch as Iso’s jaw drops. For a second he freezes, hand halfway through his hair. The deep breath he takes after seems to scrape past his throat.
“Fadime.”
“Hm.” She hums back, head tilted.
“Is that what you got out of all this? Is that really what you’re asking me right now?”
She can’t help but lean closer at that. Those blue eyes are fringed with pale blonde eye lashes. She studies them, ignoring the sudden warmth that spreads across her cheeks,
“You protected me from Serif Firtina, Golden Boy. What was that all about?”
The groan that Iso lets out at that gives some perverse joy to Fadime’s heart. Before she can enjoy it a little more, Iso leans suddenly closer, crossing the gap till they seem to share the same breath.
He really has some pretty eyes, Fadime notes absently. Pity those are Firtina eyes, but she can’t help herself all the same when she drags her sight across that vivid blue and the blonde lashes that frame it so distractingly.
“Allah help me. Little Kocari Mafioso. In case you haven’t noticed, Serif’s a murderer. Murderer.” The panicked glint in Iso’s eyes only makes the blue bluer.
“That madman killed Balli in cold blood. And he’s practically holding Yenge hostage by threatening to pin the murder on your Abi. What part of that are you not understanding right now?”
Fadime swallows at that. Her head is spinning as is, and some part of her is already figuring out plans then backup plans to deal with the threats, but for now -
For now, Fadime has a different bone to pick.
“I know. I know he’s a murderer. I know what he’s done. More than you can ever know. You know why? ‘Cause that bastard killed my Baba. I know more than anyone else what that man is capable of.”
Fadime watches as Iso drops his head at that, hands tugging at blonde hair. But she’s not here to rehash old griefs. She wants to know why he had put himself between her and his Amca.
“But you didn’t answer my question. Why did you try to protect me from your Amca?”
For his part, Iso Firtina wonders which midwife dropped Fadime Kocari on her head as a child. Or maybe the Kocari goats had confused her to be one of them and rammed her head as a baby. All dark limpid eyes and soft brown hair - the little mafioso would’ve certainly made a cute baby goat.
Iso notes the edge of hysteria in his thoughts and decides his panicking should wait till he gets back home. (Back when he can get Abi and Anne together and figure out what to do about Amca before he gate crashes Abi’s wedding).
But before that he has to deal with this Kocari shaped headache. A prettier, smaller sight than her brother, but somehow the bigger headache.
“I’m at my end, Fadime. I swear to Allah - at my end.”
With that Fadime watches as the Golden Boy turns on his heels, grabs his keys and strides off past the doorway. She lets out a frustrated hum, and ignores the odd rhythm of her heart.
When she finally makes her way to the exit, hands busy texting Abi to meet her at the house - she stops abruptly at the golden headed figure waiting by the revolving doors.
The grumble she gets at her raised eyebrow makes a grin pull the corner of her lips before she stifles it. The overprotective dolt waits till she pulls out of the parking lot and follows her in his beat up Toyota all the way to the Kocari Mansion.
It’s only after she enters and locks her door that she rushes to the window to watch as the Firtina car reverses out of the Kocari parking lot. She wonders idly if the wheels should be screeching that loud. She tries to focus on that thought instead of the strange warmth spreading across her cheeks, and the unhealthy skip of her heart.
Huh.
Before the Firtina could get to her, it’s seeming more and more likely that this stress-induced heart skipping will off her first.
She rubs at her chest absentmindedly as she watches the last of the beat up Toyota speed away. The dust it raises lifts past the growing dusk and towards the sky.
.