I HATE SECRETS

Ozan's fingers traced the edge of her mask, his voice husky as he asked, "Why are you wearing this?"

Leyla swallowed, forcing herself to sound unsure but not suspicious. "Sir… I, um… I have a scar."

Ozan's eyes darkened with intrigue. "A scar?" He leaned in slightly, his breath fanning against her skin. "Where?"

Leyla hesitated for a second before she turned her face slightly away, keeping her voice low. "On my cheek. It's… embarrassing."

Ozan tilted his head, a smirk playing at his lips. "You think I care about that?" His fingers trailed over the strap of her mask. "I like seeing people for what they really are."

Leyla's grip on her maid's apron tightened. "It's… bad," she whispered, feigning insecurity. "I don't want anyone to see it."

Ozan exhaled sharply, his other hand still resting at her waist. "That's a shame," he murmured. "Because I don't like secrets."

Leyla forced a nervous laugh. "Some things are better left hidden, sir." She dipped her head, trying to make it seem like she was shy.

Ozan's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he finally let out a chuckle. "Fine. Keep your little mystery."

Leyla let out a quiet breath of relief. She wasn't caught… yet.

As soon as Leyla tried to move, Ozan's grip tightened around her waist. Before she could react, he effortlessly pulled her down, pinning her against the plush sofa beneath him.

Her breath hitched. Ozan hovered over her, one arm resting beside her head while the other held her wrist down. His weight caged her in, his scent—a mix of expensive cologne and whiskey—filling her senses.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice was deep, teasing, but there was an edge to it.

Leyla's heart pounded. "S-Sir, I… I just thought you were done," she stammered, keeping up her act.

Ozan's gaze slowly trailed over her face, stopping at the mask again. "You're still hiding from me," he murmured, his free hand reaching up to touch the fabric. "It makes me curious."

Leyla turned her face to the side, pretending to be flustered. "Please… I told you, it's embarrassing."

Ozan smirked. "You keep making me want to see it even more."

His fingers lightly traced down her jaw, sending a shiver through her. Leyla forced herself to stay still, to act like just another scared maid instead of someone on a secret mission.

"You're different from the others," Ozan muttered, his eyes dark and searching. "And I don't like mysteries I can't solve."

Ozan's grip on her tightened slightly, his fingers grazing her wrist in a way that sent a warning through Leyla's body. His dark eyes roamed over her face, her figure, taking in every detail. It wasn't just attraction—there was something unsettling in the way he looked at her.

He was obsessed.

Not with the maid she was pretending to be, but with her.

He didn't know why, but something about this girl pulled him in. She reminded him of her—Leyla İskender. The woman who haunted his mind, the one he couldn't have. But unlike the real Leyla, this maid was within reach.

His fingers trailed down her covered arm before resting lightly on her waist. His touch wasn't aggressive, but it held control. His lips curved into a slow smirk.

Leyla kept her expression neutral, though every instinct screamed at her to escape. "S-Sir, I… I should leave." She pretended to stammer, her voice soft and unsure.

Ozan didn't move. Instead, his thumb brushed against the fabric of her uniform at her waist, barely there, but intentional.

"Why are you shaking?" he murmured, his head tilting slightly. "You're scared of me?"

Leyla's heart pounded. She couldn't afford to be caught. Not now.

"N-no, sir. I just… I'm new. I don't know the rules yet."

Ozan smirked again. "Then let me teach you."

His grip on her waist lingered, his fingers pressing slightly as if testing her reaction. Leyla clenched her fists, forcing herself to stay in character. She couldn't fight back. Not yet.

But she knew one thing.

Ozan wasn't letting her go. Not tonight.