Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm Chapter 373 - 379: The Victor Enjoys the Feast

The victor enjoys a grand feast, while the defeated taste the bitter fruit of failure.

After successfully securing the Saittan Shallow Sea Oil Field in the UAE, Martin accepted an invitation from the Emirati royal family to attend a banquet at the King's Palace.

The signing ceremony was scheduled for the following day.

anwhile, the defeated competitors quietly slipped away, nursing their wounds in silence.

The Emirati royal palace, also known as the "Presidential Palace of Abu Dhabi," is called Qasr Al Watan, aning "Palace of the Nation."

The palace's exterior is entirely white, with its dos adorned with intricate golden patterns.

Princess Haya introduced the palace to Martin, saying, "These golden patterns required half a ton of gold and were designed by the renowned local designer Khalid Shafar."

As they stepped inside, they were greeted by a floor of gleaming, immaculate white marble tiles. Nurous fountains flowed like rivers, and over twenty crystal chandeliers added a touch of opulence.

Seeing Martin's gaze linger on the chandeliers, Haya explained, "These chandeliers are crafted from natural crystals and were designed by Swarovski's finest designers. The palace houses more than a thousand crystal chandeliers in total."

Listening to her introduction, Martin followed Haya toward the banquet hall.

When they reached the entrance, Haya suddenly linked her arm through Martin's.

Martin was montarily surprised but quickly understood her intentions. He gently patted her soft hand and reassured her, "Don't worry, the crown prince won't trouble you anymore."

Haya leaned closer to Martin, though she felt a twinge of nervousness. Suppressing her embarrassnt, she asked, "I still can't figure out how you convinced him. What did you do?"

Martin chuckled. "If you can't figure it out, don't stress over it. Just rember—you owe a favor."

Haya blinked and asked curiously, "How do you want to repay it?"

Before Martin could reply, an elderly man and a middle-aged man approached them quickly.

They were none other than Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan, the ruler of the UAE and Dubai, and his son, Crown Prince Sheikh Mohamd bin Zayed Al Nahyan.

Martin felt Haya's body tense as she clung to his arm.

He leaned down and whispered, "Relax."

"Ah, welco, welco! Welco, our young and handso Martin—I'm a fan of your movies!" Sheikh Zayed laughed heartily as he extended his hand. He didn't even acknowledge Haya's unorthodox behavior of clinging to Martin's arm, which went against traditional Arab etiquette.

Crown Prince Mohamd glanced at the two of them but said nothing, much to Haya's surprise.

Martin gently extricated his arm from Haya's, shook hands with Sheikh Zayed, and then with Crown Prince Mohamd.

The three began a cordial conversation.

The longer Haya listened, the more astonished she beca. The King and Crown Prince treated Martin as if he were a close nephew, a cherished family mber.

Haya couldn't help but glance at Martin's face again. His features showed no trace of Arab lineage—how could he possibly be a secret child of either man?

Haya wasn't the only one shocked; the entire banquet hall buzzed with curiosity and speculation.

Among the guests was Oil Minister Hasfu, who watched the scene unfold with growing disbelief. Could Martin be backed by the King and Crown Prince? How did he forge such connections? Through Princess Haya?

When Hasfu saw Haya link her arm with Martin's again, his confusion deepened.

Isn't Princess Haya the Crown Prince's designated second wife? How can she be so intimate with Martin? And the Crown Prince doesn't even object? What's going on?

Many others in the hall shared Hasfu's bewildernt. The murmurs and discreet glances filled the air as countless guests began reevaluating their perceptions of Martin.

So were already considering whether to establish closer ties with him.

After the Banquet

When Haya and Martin returned to the car, Haya suddenly lunged toward Martin, kissing him fervently on the face.

Between kisses, she exclaid, "Don't refuse , don't refuse ! I'm so happy today—"

Martin, caught off guard, thought to himself, I wasn't planning to refuse you...

Haya continued kissing him while saying, "Now I'm certain—the Crown Prince really has let go! You were right; I owe you a favor! Tell , how do you want to repay you? Whatever you say, I'll agree to it..."

Martin patted her gently and said, "Don't rush. This isn't the best place. Let's head to a hotel. I'll drive."

"No!" Haya exclaid, nearly losing her composure again. "I'll drive. We'll go to my place—it's more private."

"Okay, your place it is. I haven't had the chance to see it yet."

Fifteen Minutes Later

Martin arrived at Haya's apartnt, an ultra-luxurious residence rivaling his Manhattan penthouse. Unlike traditional Emirati royal décor, her apartnt featured a sleek, minimalist design.

But Martin didn't have ti to admire the décor before Haya pulled him straight into the bedroom.

In the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the curtains, Haya humd an Arabic lody:

"Ah, I lie upon the desert sands, setting my free heart adrift. Let the steed gallop over my body, trampling into the earth. Forever nourishing the grasslands, I rest eternally among the plains, transford into wild grass, to be fodder for the mighty steed..."

The Next Morning

Golden sunlight stread through the gaps in the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bedroom.

Within the golden light, long lashes fluttered slightly before revealing a pair of amber eyes. The owner blinked, wiping away the sleep from her eyes, and turned to look at the person beside her.

It was a face of flawless beauty, with features so perfect that even the world's finest artists couldn't replicate them.

Recalling the wildness of the previous night, her cheeks flushed crimson. He was... unexpectedly strong, she thought.

This had been Princess Haya's first ti. As a royal princess, she had spent over twenty years keeping herself pure, intending to save her first ti for her husband.

She had once assud that man would likely be a royal figure—but things had taken an unexpected turn.

Haya suppressed a laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Reaching out cautiously, her pale hand brushed against Martin's face, tracing his brows, nose, lips, and ears. A deep sense of satisfaction welled up in her heart.

Just then, the man opened his eyes—a pair of stunning, deep blue eyes that seed to draw her in, srizing and profound.