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

After a while, Leyla's eyelids grew heavy, and despite the turbulence of her emotions, sleep claimed her. Her breathing slowed, her lashes resting against her cheeks as she drifted into unconsciousness.

He sat there, his gaze fixed on her peaceful face, watching the way her chest rose and fell with every breath. His fingers twitched, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her—trace the delicate curve of her jaw, push a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She drives me insane, he thought, exhaling sharply.

Just hours ago, she had tested his control, pushed his limits, and yet here she was, completely vulnerable in front of him. Did she even realize the effect she had on him?

Leaning back, he ran a hand through his hair, his smirk fading into something more unreadable.

This girl… she's going to be the death of me.

Ozan's fingers hovered inches above her skin, his control hanging by a thread. The way she looked—so soft, so unguarded in her sleep—made something primal stir inside him.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. Her skin was warm, delicate, like porcelain under his touch. He traced the curve of her jaw, his fingertips barely ghosting over her skin.

Leyla shifted slightly but didn't wake.

So defenseless, he thought. Yet she thinks she can play games with me?

His hand moved, fingers trailing down her neck, lingering where he had kissed her before. The memory of it made his pupils darken.

She had no idea what she had started.

Desire?