Stella_Winslet

In the heart of Istanbul, where power and danger walk hand in hand, two fierce souls collide. Leyla Iskender—a woman born into privilege, the daughter of a feared police officer, and a storm in her own right. Trained in combat, fluent in multiple languages, and untouched by fear, she is the kind of woman who doesn’t bow to anyone.

Then there’s Ozan Ali Ahmet—ruthless, enigmatic, and a mastermind with control over the city's underground. When Leyla dares to interfere in his business, she unknowingly marks herself as his greatest obsession. A dangerous game of power and dominance unfolds between them, where every step brings them closer to a line that neither is willing to cross—until it’s too late.

What happens when a man used to control meets a woman who refuses to be tamed? When fire meets fire, will it burn them both… or ignite something even darker?

In the streets of Istanbul

Ozan returned late. Drunk.

His footsteps were uneven as he walked inside, his body language screaming frustration. Something had gone wrong in his business tonight—that much was clear.

Leyla, meanwhile, was about to sneak into his study again when the head maid called her.

Leyla turned, keeping her expression neutral. "Yes?"

"Take these drinks to Ozan's room."** The head maid's voice was firm, but there was a flicker of unease in her eyes.**

Leyla glanced around. The other maids looked terrified, their faces pale as if they had just been given a death sentence.

Her eyes narrowed. "Why me? Any of you could do it."

The head maid exhaled sharply. "Because we've all served him before."

Leyla arched a brow. "And?"

One of the older maids whispered, "He's dangerous when he's drunk."

Leyla stared at them, unimpressed. They have no idea, do they? I've seen him worse.

Still, she had to play along. She hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Fine. I'll go."

She took the tray with the drinks and walked toward Ozan's room.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

The room was dimly lit, the faint scent of whiskey and expensive cologne hanging in the air.

Ozan sat on the edge of the couch, shirt half unbuttoned, tie loosened, hair slightly disheveled. A glass of whiskey dangled loosely from his fingers.

He looked… dangerous.

His eyes, sharp despite the alcohol in his system, snapped up to meet hers.

The second they locked gazes, Leyla knew she was in trouble.

Nightfall