Leyla sat comfortably in the private jet's luxurious reclining seat, a soft blanket draped over her legs. Her hair was tied up in a loose ponytail, a few strands framing her glowing face as she scrolled through her phone.
Ozan watched her from the opposite seat, his sharp eyes narrowing with curiosity when he noticed the small, secretive smile playing on her lips.
"What are you watching?" he finally asked, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
Leyla's smile widened, but she didn't even glance at him. "A Turkish drama," she replied simply, her tone casual as if she couldn't care less about his interest.
Ozan raised an eyebrow. "A Turkish drama? Let me see," he demanded, already moving toward her.
Leyla's eyes snapped up, her expression immediately turning defensive. "No! Absolutely not," she said quickly, hugging her phone closer to her chest like a child protecting their favorite toy.
Ozan's lips curled into a mischievous smirk. Without another word, he reached out and snatched her phone straight from her hands.
"Ozan! Give it back! That's mine!" she shouted, trying to grab it back, but he easily kept it out of her reach.
"It's just a drama, Leyla. What's so secret about it? Why can't I watch it with you?" he teased, tilting the phone so he could see the screen.
Leyla crossed her arms tightly, her cheeks flushed in annoyance—and maybe embarrassment. "Because it's my phone! Go watch something on your own phone! You have one, don't you?"
Ozan let out a loud, amused laugh. His deep voice echoed through the quiet cabin. "Oh? And what's this?" he said, squinting at the screen. "Ah, so this is the actor you're smiling at, huh?"
Leyla rolled her eyes dramatically. "Yes! Look at him! He's so handsome. Where do you even find guys like this? Not everyone can be this perfect."
Ozan's smirk vanished instantly. He lowered the phone and stared at her, his jaw tightening.
"Handsome guys?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "So, I'm not handsome now?"
Leyla leaned back in her seat, feigning thoughtfulness, tapping her finger against her chin. "Nope. Not even a little bit," she declared, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Fine! Look! See? Isn't he just so perfect?" she teased, showing him the scene of the drama's male lead.
Ozan's eye twitched as he stared at the actor on screen, then at Leyla's excited expression. His jealousy burned deeper, clawing at his chest.
Without warning, he snatched the phone again and tossed it onto the opposite seat. He leaned down until his face was inches from hers, his breath fanning across her lips.
"You think some pretty boy on a screen can compare to me?" he murmured, his voice dark and husky.
Leyla swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She was about to push him away, but her hands froze mid-air.
"You belong to me, Leyla," Ozan whispered, his lips brushing her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "And no screen, no actor, no one will ever change that."
Leyla's heart hammered wildly as she struggled to keep her face neutral, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her.
Ozan pulled back slightly, smirking as he caught the faint tremble of her fingers. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him.
"Say it," he commanded softly. "Say I'm the only one you'll ever look at."
Leyla clenched her jaw, glaring defiantly. But deep inside, she knew she had already lost this game.