My Famous Mate

Zeynep Baysal took a deep breath; her feet ached inside the black shoes, and she cursed herself for following her sister's idea. She could still hear her sister murmuring in her ear.

"You need to look stunning! Do you know how many women dream of touching Emir Ozkurt? He's a star! My dream would be to be his romantic partner, and now your hands will touch him!"

"He's a snob... Some makeup artists told me he doesn't even say good morning."

"Oh, my beautiful Zeynep, you say good morning to him."

"Tuğba, don't bother me. Please."

The girl's thoughts were interrupted by his arrival. Emir Ozkurt entered the makeup room like a king, as was his custom. He looked disdainfully at the girl, who was very beautiful but visibly poor and probably without class. However, she held his gaze.

Emir looked at himself, and she assessed him with her blue eyes. He was quite tall, and yet he knew his walk was pleasant to watch. He then walked, teasing the poor girl.

He stared at her with slightly narrowed blue eyes, sat in the chair, and continued to stare.

"Miss, I know you're not used to seeing a man of my level, and I understand your admiration, but I must remind you that you're here to work."

"Thank goodness you reminded me, Mr. Ozkurt," Zeynep tried to smile; she couldn't miss the opportunity.

"Then do your job. Today, besides the soap opera launch, I have an award ceremony."

Zeynep analyzed Emir's skin, and the secret was to apply the least amount of product possible. He was truly handsome; he only needed a few details, like removing the shine and giving a blush, as he was very pale. She took two concealers and a translucent powder from her extensive palette and, confident, began to clean the star's skin. She used micellar water to remove excess oil, followed by thermal water.

Concealer was applied to the dark circles, probably he hadn't slept, and she finished with a bronzing powder to add some color. He opened his eyes, and Zeynep swallowed hard.

"Ready, Mr. Ozkurt."

"I've never seen you here; you're not going to tell me they left a rookie to fix me up!"

"No, Mr. Ozkurt, I'm an excellent makeup artist. I'm new here, but I'm already known in the industry."

Emir looked at the girl; she was indeed beautiful, with black hair tied in a samurai-style bun and blue eyes adorned with kohl. She seemed to have a well-proportioned body, as far as he could tell through the apron.

"What's your name?"

"Baysal, Zeynep Hazan Baysal."

"Hazan means autumn; it's a beautiful name. But Zeynep is stronger."

"Thank you, Mr. Emir Ozkurt."

"Tonight, if you're not busy, come to my room," Emir held her hand more intimately, which made her pull it away immediately.

"You can't touch me! What do you think I am?" she said indignantly.

"A girl who has the potential to be more than just a makeup artist... If you know how to be nice, of course."

Without thinking twice, Zeynep grabbed a utility knife from the table and struck Emir's left cheek.

"Are you crazy?" the young man's blue eyes sparked with fury.

"Do you think I'm one of those women who spend the night with you to be a headline in gossip news?"

"Of course not! They charge a hundred dollars an hour, and you wouldn't be worth a quarter of that," Emir stood up, and Zeynep huffed before leaving the room. She had barely taken two steps when Emir pulled her back.

"Who do you think you are to ignore me and leave like this? I am Emir Ozkurt!" Zeynep rolled her eyes.

"Mr. Ozkurt, then take advantage of the fact that your name buys women for a hundred dollars and pay for..."

"If I want, you'll be mine for a whole night. And it will be your blood staining my sheets, if you have anything that still stains anything."

"Mr. Ozkurt," Emir looked back and saw Murat; his eyes went from Emir to Zeynep and stopped at his friend's eyes.

"Murat, I..."

"Who is your friend this time? I've told you not to bring these women to the studio."

"Hey! Not these women! First, I'm not his friend; second, I work here. And third, I wouldn't walk with this kind even if he were the last man on Earth!"

"You don't need to lie to me; I don't judge anyone."

Zeynep left grumbling while Emir burst into laughter.

"Now seriously, Emir... Don't bring your flings to the studio; it damages your reputation with the production company, no matter how good an actor you are."

"She's not a fling; she..."

"All of them are..." he said disdainfully. "Now pay attention! Today is the launch of 'Stolen Love,' and you are the protagonist. Please, don't show up with a woman like that today; the protagonist is a lord based on Mr. Darcy. And that's the image you have to sell."

"Mr. Darcy," Emir rolled his eyes as he breathed heavily. "How many episodes again?"

"Fifty-three. Oh, don't start."

"Over a year pretending to be a prince? Featuring in teenage magazines? That's not what I want; I don't want to be just the pretty boy. I want to direct! Show what I know."