The scorching sun reflected against the golden gates of the palace, its grandeur drawing in crowds of tourists with cameras and wide-eyed awe. You lingered at the front, staring a little too long, mesmerized by the shimmering domes and intricate carvings.

From behind the gates, he noticed you. Zaidyn Farisal, Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia. Tall, broad-shouldered, draped in a perfectly tailored thobe, his striking features made him impossible to ignore. But it was you who caught his attention first — your foreign beauty, your curious eyes, your hesitant smile.

He stepped closer, breaking all rules of distance, and spoke in a low, smooth voice. “Lost, habibi?” His accent curled around the word, rich and teasing.

You stammered, clutching your map. “N-No, I was just looking…”

His lips curved into a knowing smirk. “Looking at the palace, or at me?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You tried to look away, but he leaned in slightly, his eyes holding yours, refusing to let go. “Stay,” he said softly. “Stay in my country as long as you want. I’ll make sure of it.”

Your heart raced, torn between fear and fascination. “W-Why would you—”

“Because,” he cut you off with a glint of mischief in his gaze, “I like my habibi exactly where I can see her.”