The following morning, Lin Wei was certain the prince had forgotten all about her.
That was how it usually went. Rich guests snapped their fingers, barked orders, maybe flirted a little, then forgot your face the moment you disappeared.
She was counting on it.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
When she stepped into Suite 2703, cart neatly stocked, clipboard ready, she nearly walked into a wall of cologne and chaos.
Prince Hamdan was still there.
Worse—he was awake, alert, and smirking as though he had been waiting for her.
"Good morning, Cinderella." He stretched lazily on the sofa, long legs sprawled, a silk robe tied just loose enough to look intentional.
Lin Wei froze with her vacuum hose in hand. "You're supposed to check out today."
"Changed my mind." He tilted his head, studying her like a cat eying a bird. "Your service is far too entertaining."
Lin Wei exhaled slowly through her nose. "Your Highness, this is a hotel, not a circus. We provide cleaning, not comedy."
"Oh, but you're both," Hamdan said cheerfully. "Last night I told my brother about you. He didn't believe me when I said a maid quoted regulations to my face."
"Perhaps your brother has more sense than you," Lin Wei muttered under her breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, sir." She marched toward the minibar, yanking out half-empty soda cans and stacking them with military precision.
Hamdan watched, amusement dancing in his hazel eyes. "Tell me, do you ever smile?"
"Not on company time."
"Ah, so there's a smile hidden somewhere. Good. I'll find it."
Lin Wei gave him a flat look. "That sounds like harassment."
Hamdan clutched his chest dramatically. "Harassment? I call it a royal challenge."
She ignored him, turning her attention to the mess on the desk. A jumble of cufflinks, coins, and a half-finished sketch scattered across the surface. At first, she thought it was just doodles—sharp lines, swirls of ink. But when she leaned closer, she saw something that startled her.
It was a drawing of the sea. Not a tourist postcard version, but turbulent, detailed waves crashing against a breakwater. In the corner, faint Arabic words circled like waves around a single word: Mother.
Lin Wei blinked. So the prince doodled? And not badly, either.
She reached for the paper instinctively—then jerked her hand back as Hamdan's voice cut through.
"Don't touch that."
The sharpness made her glance up. His playful smirk had vanished, replaced by something tight, almost guarded.
Lin Wei straightened, smoothing her uniform. "Apologies, sir. It looked like trash mixed in with everything else."
"It's not trash." His jaw clenched, then he exhaled, his tone softening. "Just… don't."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. The first crack in his golden armor.
Lin Wei nodded briskly, pretending not to notice. She returned to her cart, pulling out fresh towels. "Then perhaps you should store your sketches properly. Hotel policy states that important documents should not be left in communal areas."
Hamdan stared at her. Then—he laughed. The smirk was back, but thinner now, less sure.
"You really are impossible," he said.
"And you," she replied coolly, "really are messy."
By mid-morning, the suite sparkled again. Lin Wei finished tucking the last pillow into place when Hamdan suddenly rose from the sofa.
"Wait."
She froze, professional mask firmly in place. "Yes, Your Highness?"
He pointed at the corner table. "There's dust. I can see it."
Lin Wei followed his finger. There was no dust. Not even a shadow of lint.
"Sir," she said patiently, "that's sunlight reflecting off the table."
"Then clean the sunlight."
Lin Wei almost choked. "That's not how physics works."
"Physics bends for me," he said with mock solemnity.
She stared at him, unimpressed. "Unfortunately, hotel housekeeping does not."
Hamdan chuckled. "You win again, Cinderella. But I'll find a way to make you lose eventually."
"Good luck with that," she said, wheeling her cart toward the door.
In the hallway, she allowed herself one long exhale. Her pulse was still annoyingly fast. Not because of attraction, she told herself firmly, but because the man was exhausting. Like trying to vacuum a hurricane.
As she rolled the cart back to the service elevator, one of her colleagues, Aisha, leaned out from another suite.
"Lin Wei! You look like you just fought a war."
"Close," Lin Wei muttered. "A war with a spoiled prince."
Aisha's eyes widened. "Prince Hamdan? The wild one?"
Lin Wei gave her a look. "Do you know another prince who trashes his suite like a frat boy?"
Aisha laughed, covering her mouth. "Careful, he might adopt you as his personal cleaner. Then you'll never escape."
"Don't joke," Lin Wei said, though a tiny shiver ran down her spine at the words.
That evening, when she returned to her dorm room, Lin Wei found herself thinking about the sketch. The stormy waves, the word Mother.
She shook her head, setting down her cleaning gloves. "Not my business," she whispered firmly.
Still, she couldn't quite push away the image. A prince who laughed at rules, but secretly drew storms on paper.
The next day proved worse.
When she entered the suite again, it looked like a glitter bomb had exploded. Clothes, jewelry, even a falcon's feather (where had he gotten that?) were scattered across every surface.
On the center table sat a glass bowl filled with potato chips. In the bowl, glittering among crumbs, was a Rolex watch.
Lin Wei pinched the bridge of her nose. "You've got to be kidding me."
From the balcony came his voice: "I told you, Cinderella. I like a challenge."
Hamdan strode in, hands behind his back, eyes gleaming. "Well? What will you do with my little… puzzle?"
Lin Wei pulled on gloves, lifted the Rolex with tongs, and set it on a cloth. She wrote a neat note: Valuable items should be stored away from food. Salt can corrode metal. She tucked the note beside the watch.
Hamdan blinked. "That's it? No panic? No begging me not to accuse you of theft?"
She arched an eyebrow. "Why would I panic? I know what I touched. I document everything. And frankly, sir, if you want to ruin your watch with potato chips, that's your problem, not mine."
Hamdan burst out laughing. "You're infuriating. Do you know that?"
Lin Wei didn't look up. "I've been told."
Later, as she left the room, he called after her.
"Cinderella!"
She paused, turning just enough to meet his gaze.
Hamdan's grin faltered. For a second, something softer flickered in his eyes—hesitation, maybe even loneliness.
"Never mind," he said quickly, waving it off. "Go on. I'll see you tomorrow."
Lin Wei studied him for a heartbeat longer before nodding and walking away.
As the door shut behind her, Hamdan leaned against it, staring at the sketch still lying on his desk. The stormy waves seemed to mock him.
He muttered under his breath, "Maybe order isn't so bad after all."