GAMES?

Leyla didn't look away, meeting his intense gaze with just as much fire.

"You always are," she shot back. "Everything with you is a game, Ozan. Control, power, proving a point—it's all the same to you."

Ozan took a slow step closer, his presence demanding. "And you? What is it to you, Ateş?" His voice was lower now, smoother, like he was daring her to answer.

Leyla clenched her jaw. "A headache."

Ozan chuckled, shaking his head. "You say that, yet here you are, standing in my kitchen, wearing my clothes, waiting for me to feed you."

Leyla crossed her arms, hating the way he made it sound like she was dependent on him. "I didn't exactly have a choice, did I?"

Ozan tilted his head, considering her. Then, in one smooth motion, he reached behind her and grabbed a spoon from the counter—purposely moving too close. His scent—cologne, smoke, and something inherently him—brushed over her senses.

Leyla refused to move, refused to react.

He leaned in just slightly, his voice a near whisper. "You always have a choice, Leyla."

She exhaled sharply, her fingers twitching at her sides. "Then I choose to eat and go to bed. That's all."

Ozan smirked, stepping back. "Fine. Sit. Your headache of a chef will serve you now."

Leyla rolled her eyes but sat at the counter anyway. The last thing she expected was for Ozan to actually place a plate in front of her, a perfectly made soufflé with a dusting of sugar.

She blinked at it, then at him. "You actually made this?"

Ozan scoffed. "I don't burn water, Leyla."

She hesitated before picking up the spoon and taking a bite.

Warm, rich chocolate melted in her mouth, and despite everything—despite the night, the chaos, him—she let out an involuntary hum of approval.

Ozan leaned against the counter, watching her with an unreadable expression. "Good?"

Leyla swallowed and wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb. "Decent."

Ozan chuckled, shaking his head. "Liar."

Leyla smirked at him. "You're used to women stroking your ego, huh?"

Ozan's eyes darkened slightly, but the smirk on his lips remained. "Only when it's deserved."

Leyla was too focused on finishing her dessert to notice the small smear of chocolate on the corner of her lips and a tiny smudge on her cheek.

Ozan, however, noticed immediately.

He tilted his head, watching her with a knowing smirk. "Messy eater, huh?"

Leyla frowned, her spoon pausing mid-air. "What?"

Before she could react, Ozan leaned in.

Her breath hitched as he closed the distance between them, his hand resting on the counter beside her, trapping her in place. She barely had time to process what was happening before she felt it—his warm tongue grazing the corner of her lips, slow and deliberate, licking away the chocolate.

Leyla's entire body went rigid.

Then—snap.

Her palm collided with his chest as she shoved him back, her glare sharp enough to cut through steel. "Are you out of your damn mind?!"

Ozan licked his own lips, completely unbothered. "You had chocolate."

"I could've wiped it myself!" she snapped, reaching up to aggressively rub the spot he had just touched.

Ozan chuckled darkly, his eyes holding that wicked glint of amusement. "Too late. I already took care of it."

Leyla clenched her fists, her face burning—not from embarrassment, but pure rage.

"You're disgusting."

Ozan only shrugged, his gaze dropping slightly.

Leyla followed his eyes and realized what he was staring at—her shoulder, left exposed by the loose collar of his oversized white shirt. The fabric had slipped slightly, revealing smooth skin and the delicate line of her collarbone.

His jaw tensed, and for a split second, something darker flickered in his eyes.

Leyla immediately pulled the collar up, fixing the shirt as if it burned her. "Get that look off your face."

Ozan smirked, but it was slower this time, lazier—like he was savoring her reaction. "What look?"

Leyla stood up so fast the stool scraped against the floor. "The one that makes me want to throw this soufflé in your face."

Ozan chuckled, leaning back against the counter like he had all the time in the world. "Admit it, Ateş. You like my attention."

Leyla grabbed a napkin and threw it at his face. "Choke on your damn soufflé, Ozan."

And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen.