The golden sands of Jumeirah stretched endlessly beyond the grand estate, kissed by the glow of the setting sun. The palace—our palace—stood like a vision from a dream, a masterpiece of intricate domes, towering marble columns, and gold-trimmed archways.

He had bought it for us. Just like that. No hesitation. No discussion. A silent declaration that I belonged here, with him.

I stood at the entrance, my breath caught in my throat as my fingers brushed against the engraved doors. They opened effortlessly, revealing a grand foyer bathed in warm candlelight, the scent of oud and jasmine lingering in the air. The floor, polished marble with delicate gold inlays, gleamed beneath my bare feet.

Behind me, he approached, his presence unmistakable—commanding, effortless. An Arab trillionaire, feared and revered in equal measure. He reached out, fingers grazing my wrist before intertwining with mine.

“Do you like it, habibti?” His voice was deep, smooth, carrying the weight of a man who always got what he wanted.

I turned to him, searching his expression, but his dark eyes remained unreadable.

"It’s…" I exhaled, struggling to find the words. "It’s unreal."

His lips curled slightly as he led me forward. The palace was breathtaking—mosaic-tiled corridors, carved wooden ceilings, chandeliers dripping in diamonds. Every detail whispered of wealth beyond imagination.

But none of it compared to the way he looked at me.

As we reached the master suite, he pulled me close, his warmth pressing against my back. “Then it’s yours, mahbubi.” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear.

The night breeze slipped through the silk curtains, but I wasn’t cold. Not when his hands skimmed my waist, not when he held me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever owned.