The Impossible Love of the Billionaire

Khaled had tried to get into the car three times already. But someone always called out to him, and he turned back. Cameras and journalists surrounded him as he tried to pay attention to the people. Dozens of cellphones recorded his movements. The crowd didn't dare to press him; no one touched the crown prince without permission. But all this attention made public appearances tiresome.

Throughout the afternoon, he had watched camel races on a track built outside the city. The men there were ordinary people, many of them elderly. One of the reasons the al Zaman family had been in power for over 200 years was their accessibility. On many occasions, the people encountered members of the royal family among them.

The elderly man in front of him recited a poem, wishing for a long life and prosperous reign.

Khaled thanked him and kissed the man's cheek, feeling truly grateful for the people's affection. After saying a few words about the poem to the reporters, he finally managed to get into the car. Said Hilal, his bodyguard, started the engine, and the car quickly left the venue.

The prince's schedule had been intense for the past twelve weeks. He had traveled to several Arab countries, representing the Dubai government, signing some political agreements, and reinforcing others. He and his entire team felt tired and somewhat stressed. But the next fifteen days would be a break for all of them, and the prince couldn't wait to board his private plane and isolate himself in Uzbekistan for a relaxing hunting season.

When he was younger, he had loved spending time in bustling cities like London and New York, but now at thirty-six, he preferred spending his free time in isolated places. He loved photographing nature and being in touch with it.

"Nader Hasnawi has been calling a lot," he heard his secretary's voice from the backseat. "He really wants you to meet his daughter."

Khaled sighed. Being single at thirty-six was becoming a problem. He felt like a race for the prize was forming around him. But he was determined not to marry just to tick off a milestone in life. He wanted to genuinely be interested in the woman who would become his life partner. Unfortunately, he hadn't met anyone interesting in a long time. Nader's daughter was only seventeen, and despite her beauty, the age difference would make a connection difficult.

"I don't want to meet her," he said firmly. Now the secretary would have to find a way to disillusion poor Nader Hasnawi.

He sensed a slight disappointment in the assistant. He, too, worried that the prince hadn't married yet and had no children. Time would take care of that, Insha'Allah; there was no point in trying to rush things.

He looked in the rearview mirror at the back seat and saw the little face of Maj, an eight-year-old boy sitting in the middle. Behind Khaled was Aj, the boy's father and one of the prince's best friends, and on the other side was Ismaeil, his secretary. He searched for his phone in the pocket of his white dishdasha and opened the Instagram app. He scrolled through the feed and came across a photo of his niece Fatima. The little girl's smile was one of his passions. He liked a photo of his father giving a speech at a conference the day before.

The car sped along the highway as the sun was setting, turning the landscape orange-reddish. They were out of the city, the desert surrounding the road, creating a beautiful scenery. He decided to take a selfie with his friends in the car.

"Smile," he said as he positioned the phone to frame everyone.

Aj, Ismaeil, and Maj gathered in the space between the front seats. Said Hilal tried to focus on the road and be in the photo at the same time. The first attempt resulted in a lot of laughter because of Said's funny face in the photo. The bodyguard made an effort to look at the camera in the second attempt, everyone smiled, and Khaled got the selfie he wanted.

"No! Watch out!" Maj's shout made Khaled lower the phone just in time to see the woman standing in the middle of the road trying to take a photo of the sunset. Said hit the brakes; the prince heard the sound of tires burning against the asphalt. The woman seemed not to notice the car. The speed was decreasing, but if she didn't move out of the way, they would hit her. In slow motion, he saw the woman turn with a frightened look seconds before being thrown forward with the impact of the car.

The prince jumped out of the vehicle and ran towards the body lying on the side of the road.

"Keep Maj away! I don't want him to see anything bad," he shouted over his shoulder.

When he reached her, he confirmed suspicions that she was a foreigner. She was breathing, and there were no obvious fractures.

He noticed blood and sand mixed in her brown hair. She had a cut on her forehead. Her face was delicate, and it looked more like she was sleeping.

"An accident on al Meydan highway," he heard Ismaeil's voice calling the emergency services. "A woman was hit... No, she's unconscious."

She didn't seem to be over twenty years old. But what was she doing there alone? There were no parked vehicles around. There were also no people nearby who could be accompanying her. Dubai prided itself on being a safe place for women, but still, one had to be careful. There were many foreigners around. Arab men would never allow a woman from their family to walk alone in a deserted place like that.

He saw a bag lying about two meters ahead in the sand. He asked Said Hilal to pick it up. The bodyguard was very nervous, but Khaled didn't want to move away from the young woman. When he received the bag, he opened it and looked for some identification. When he found it, he discovered her name was Lynn Isabella Silva Davis. He recognized Davis as an English surname, but he had no idea about the origin of the other names. Her appearance had deceived him; she was actually twenty-eight years old.

He was relieved when he heard the ambulance siren, which took less than ten minutes to arrive at the accident site. They had an excellent healthcare system, and they had just tested its efficiency. The police arrived shortly after. He liked knowing that his country worked well. The girl was quickly attended to. When she was placed in the ambulance, he decided to go with her to the hospital. Said and Ismaeil could talk to the police and provide explanations. If necessary, he would go to the police station later. He didn't want to leave that young woman alone.

Before getting into the ambulance, he waved and smiled at Maj, who remained at a distance in the company of his father.

She was attended to in the emergency room at Rashid Hospital. That hospital was built by his older brother and was a reference in Arab countries. Rashid never embarked on a venture in vain; everything he did had to be the best. Being there was never easy.

He waited in a reserved room for over an hour. He understood that she would undergo various tests to determine the consequences of the accident, but the lack of news was starting to irritate him. Ismaeil had joined him ten minutes ago. Said and the others had been sent home. The police had also shown up at the hospital, and they were now looking for any relatives or friends of Lynn Isabella.

The girl's face had been etched in his mind. Even despite the blood, it was impossible not to pay attention to her delicate features. In fact, she seemed fragile. She was a small and slender woman. Her hair was abundant and long, her skin fair, and he was sure her eyes were also light. He didn't yet know if she was a touri