Leyla tilted her head, her fingers grazing Ozan's arm as she whispered, "Daddy…"
The moment the word left her lips, she saw it—his pupils dilating, his grip on the armrest tightening for a fraction of a second. His entire body tensed, like a predator who had just spotted its prey.
Ozan turned to face her fully, his jaw clenching. "Say that again," he ordered, his voice low, almost dangerous.
Leyla bit her lip, suppressing a smirk. So, this is his weakness?
She leaned in closer, her warm breath fanning against his skin. "Daddy," she purred, her tone dripping with mischief.
Ozan exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching as if restraining himself. His gaze darkened, locked onto her like she was the most tempting thing he had ever seen.
"Leyla," he warned, his voice laced with something between desire and control.
Leyla only smiled, feigning innocence. "Hmm? Didn't you say I should start giving you attention?" She traced a finger down his sleeve. "I'm just being a good wife."
Ozan let out a deep, husky chuckle. "Küçük cadım…" (My little witch…) His hand shot out, gripping her chin gently but firmly, making her look directly into his burning gaze.
"If you keep this up," he murmured, tilting her face up, "I won't be responsible for what happens next."