SHOPPING WITH OZAN?

Leyla rolled her eyes, snatching up the bloody cloth and tossing it aside. "Dramatic as always," she muttered.

Ozan chuckled, but the sound was low—too low. Almost like a warning.

Before she could take a step back, his fingers tightened around her waist, pulling her closer.

"You know, Leyla," he murmured, tilting his head slightly, "you're playing a very dangerous game."

Leyla raised a brow, unfazed. "And what game would that be?"

Ozan smirked, his grip shifting just slightly—his thumb brushing along her side, teasingly slow. "Acting like you're not affected by me. Pretending you don't feel this... pull."

Leyla scoffed, ignoring the way her pulse quickened. "Pull? Please."

Ozan leaned in, his lips just barely brushing her ear. "Then why haven't you moved?"

Leyla stiffened.

Her breath hitched, but she quickly masked it with a sharp glare. She shoved his chest—hard—forcing him to step back.

"Don't flatter yourself, Ozan."

He just smirked, unbothered.

"Keep running, Ateş," he said smoothly, turning toward the door. "But one day, you'll realize... you're only running in circles."

With that, he walked away, leaving Leyla standing in the dimly lit basement, pulse still racing, the weight of his touch lingering on her skin.

The soft morning light streamed through the windows, but sleep had completely evaded Leyla. The events of last night played over and over in her mind. Ozan... the darkness he hid from the world, she had witnessed it with her own eyes.

She let out a deep breath, running a hand over her forehead. What the hell was that... she whispered to herself.

Then suddenly, it hit her—Today was Emir's wedding! And her family was probably losing their minds over her disappearance.

Leyla shot up from the bed in a panic. She had no phone, no way to contact them.

Leyla stormed downstairs, her heart racing. As she reached the grand hall, she spotted Ozan standing near the large windows, phone pressed to his ear. His expression was unreadable, his voice calm but authoritative as he gave out instructions to whoever was on the other end.

She didn't care.

"Ozan!" she called out, marching toward him.

He turned his head slightly, one brow raising at her tone, but he didn't end the call immediately. Instead, he lifted a finger, silently telling her to wait.

Leyla clenched her jaw. Unbelievable.

The moment he hung up, she crossed her arms. "I need to go home. Today is Emir's wedding. My family must be freaking out. I can't stay here any longer."

Ozan looked at her, amused by her urgency. "Relax, Ateş. I know."

She frowned. "You know?"

He took a step closer, tilting his head slightly. "Emir is my friend. Of course, I know. That's why you're coming with me."

Leyla blinked, stunned. "What? No! I need my own clothes. Drop me home first."

Ozan smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. "No need. I'll take you shopping myself. You'll wear what I choose."

Her jaw clenched. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said smoothly. "I won't let you run back to your house like this. You're coming with me. And you'll wear what I buy for you."

Leyla huffed, stepping closer, eyes burning with defiance. "I don't need you to dress me, Ozan."

His smirk only deepened. "You do now."

Leyla narrowed her eyes, her frustration bubbling over.

"You're not my husband, Ozan!" she snapped, folding her arms. "You don't get to decide what I wear or where I go."

Ozan chuckled, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. He took a slow step closer, invading her space like it was his right.

"Not yet," he murmured, his voice dangerously smooth.

Leyla's breath hitched for half a second before she scowled. "Excuse me?!"

Ozan tilted his head, eyes dragging over her like she was already his. "You act like you're free, Ateş. But if that were true, you wouldn't be standing in my mansion right now."

Leyla's fists clenched. "That's because you kidnapped me, you lunatic!"

Ozan laughed softly, shaking his head. "Kidnapped? No. I just… kept you where I want you."

She gritted her teeth. "You can't control me."

Ozan leaned in slightly, his gaze burning into hers. "Then prove it, Leyla. Walk away. Right now."

Silence stretched between them.

Leyla wanted to. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to shove past him and leave. But deep down, she knew it wasn't that simple. Not with him.

Leyla turned on her heel, her jaw tight with frustration. "I'm leaving."

She didn't wait for Ozan's response. She just started walking toward the door, her heels clicking against the marble floor. But before she could take another step—

Strong arms wrapped around her waist.

A gasp left her lips as Ozan lifted her effortlessly off the ground, pulling her back against his chest. Her hands instinctively flew to his forearms, but his grip was firm, unyielding.

"Ozan!" she hissed, kicking her legs slightly in protest. "Put me down!"

But Ozan just chuckled, his breath warm against her ear.

"Why are you always in such a rush to run away from me, Ateş?" he murmured, amusement laced in his voice.

Leyla struggled, twisting in his hold, but his grip only tightened around her waist.

"Let. Me. Go." she demanded through gritted teeth.

Ozan leaned in, his lips brushing dangerously close to the sensitive spot just below her ear.

"What if I don't want to?" he whispered, voice low, teasing.

Leyla's breath hitched, but she forced herself to glare at him. "Then I'll make you regret it."

Ozan chuckled darkly. "Oh, Ateş, you already make me regret so many things."

Before she could snap back, he finally loosened his hold, slowly letting her feet touch the ground again—but he didn't step away. Instead, he turned her to face him, his dark gaze locked onto hers.

Ozan smirked. "Still want to leave?"

Leyla narrowed her eyes. "Watch me."