“Eloise? Eloise.”

The voice stirred her. She opened her eyes to see Masoud smiling down at her.

“Hmm?”

“You were sleeping.”

“What?” She shook herself. “I wasn’t.”

“I had to call your name five times.”

Had she really fallen asleep? How embarrassing, she thought, remembering that she had been leaning against his shoulder.

The moment had seemed to call for that degree of intimacy, but how could she keep forgetting herself like this? He was a sheikh! And no matter how magical this day had been, she was not a princess. She ought to be bowing to him and calling him sir, not licking butter off her fingers and falling asleep on his shoulder.

Even if this had been a first date, which it had not, she reminded herself firmly, she was being surprisingly familiar. She really needed to get things under control.

Then, she realized the building they were parked in front of wasn’t her hotel. They were on what appeared to be a high-end shopping strip, with glitzy boutiques displaying their names in Arabic on light-up signs.

“Where are we?” Eloise asked.

“I didn’t think your day as a princess was complete yet,” he said, and his smile completely disarmed her. “We had to make one more stop.”

“Where, though?”

He gestured to one of the stores. “Here.”

Eloise couldn’t read the sign, of course, but it was apparent what kind of store this was—the mannequins in the window were decked in the most elaborate ball gowns she had ever laid eyes on.

“I…I can’t go in there,” Eloise stammered.

“Why not?”

She didn’t know what to say. At home, the answer would have been easy: Eloise could never have afforded anything in a shop like this, and she knew they weren’t fond of girls coming in just to try things on and feel like royalty. She imagined that was less of an obstacle, though, when you were actually being escorted by a member of the royal family.

“I don’t know,” she managed. “I don’t think I should.”

“Do you want to?” he asked.

“Yes,” she admitted, her eyes fixed on the dresses in the window. If she was honest with herself, she had always wanted to do something like this.

“Then come on,” he said. “I promise, everything will be all right.”

He led her into the shop. As soon as they entered, it was clear that the women behind the counter recognized him. One of them let out a cry and grabbed at her coworker’s arm.

Eloise wondered for a moment if he visited this shop often, perhaps with a series of girls he had given this royal treatment to, but it soon became clear that that was almost certainly not the case. The women fawned over him like a visiting celebrity—which, of course, he was. They didn’t treat him the way she would have expected them to treat someone they saw on a regular basis.

Masoud spoke to them in Arabic and they nodded and disappeared into the back. He guided Eloise to a long, low sofa.

“They’re going to bring some things for you to try on,” he said.

“Don’t they need to know my size?”

“They can see you, can’t they?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re professionals. They fit women for these dresses every day.”

Of course.

Eloise had heard of this sort of thing—shopkeepers who could determine your size just by looking at you and then modify the clothing so it would be a perfect fit. She had never experienced it firsthand, because it wasn’t the kind of service that was offered at low-end department stores, or even the boutiques where she bought her more expensive suits for work.

But she should have expected it here.

The women returned. One of them was pushing a rolling rack, on which hung a row of brightly colored dresses. The other carried a tray with two flutes of champagne and a bottle in a bucket of ice. This was placed on the table before Masoud and Eloise.

“Is this for us?” she asked, hesitating.

He laughed. “Who would it be for?” He took his glass and raised it to her. “Here’s to you, Princess.”

Eloise lifted the other glass, clinked, and took a sip. It was, she thought, the finest champagne she had ever tasted.

Masoud stood and approached the rack, sifting through the dresses with the eye of a man experienced in evaluating fine things. He and the saleswoman spoke in rapid Arabic while Eloise, not understanding a word of what was going on, sipped her champagne. Masoud lifted a yellow gown from the rack and held it up for examination. The woman eyed it thoughtfully, said something, and took it from him.

“She doesn’t think it matches your coloring,” Masoud explained.

“Okay,” Eloise agreed. The champagne was starting to put her more at ease, and she was content to let Masoud direct this phase of the adventure.

They put her in a series of gowns, each one finer than the last, all of them much fancier than anything Eloise had ever worn. She felt as padded as a football player in tulle, as if she might bounce off the walls. As she emerged from the fitting rooms in each new dress, the shopkeeper and Masoud eyed her critically and said things she couldn’t understand.

She admired herself in the mirror, wondering what they could possibly find wrong as she waited for their verdict. Each dress, she was sure, was the most beautiful garment in the world. Surely this would be the one.

“No,” Masoud said every time. “Not quite right. Something else.”

They continued for what seemed like ages, dress after dress, rejection after rejection. Eventually, Eloise emerged from the dressing room in a sea-foam green, spaghetti strap gown to see that Masoud had disappeared.

He must be sick of this, she thought, realizing with embarrassment that she should have put a stop to things. He’s waiting for you to say you’ve had enough. He’s being a gentleman, and you’re letting this stupid dress fitting go on all night. No wonder he’s bored!

Just as she was beginning to panic that he wasn’t coming back at all, the door opened and Masoud returned.

“This is a good one,” Eloise said, although she didn’t like it nearly as much as she had some of the others. She wanted to offer him an exit.

But, to her surprise, he shook his head. “No. That’s pedestrian. You need something nicer. Something that brings out your eyes.”

And so, Eloise was ferried back into the dressing room.

Finally, after over an hour of trying on dresses, Eloise was laced into a royal blue ball gown. It had a sweetheart neckline and a wide bell skirt. Sequins ran from the bodice to the hips in a pattern that reminded her of feathers. The dressing room attendant helped her slip her feet into heels that would allow her to walk without stepping on the hem, and Eloise stepped out into the store.

“Yes,” Masoud breathed. He was staring at her like she was a piece of art.

Eloise turned to face the mirrors, stepping up onto the pedestal to get the best look at herself. The dress was exquisite. It took her breath away. Standing here, gazing at her reflection, she felt as if she was looking at a princess.

It’s me, she reminded herself. That’s me.

“That’s the one,” Masoud said. “We’ll take it.”

“Wait a minute,” Eloise protested.

“What?” Masoud asked. “You don’t like it?”

“No, I…” she turned back to the mirror, speechless. She had never known a dress could transform her like this. It was beautiful. It was too beautiful. It didn’t belong with Eloise. It didn’t belong in her everyday life, where she went to work and to the store and sat on her couch watching reality TV in the evenings. It would be wasted on her. “I don’t have anywhere to wear it,” she explained, a lump rising in her throat.

“What’s wrong?” Masoud got to his feet, seeing her distress.

But it was too hard to explain. How could she tell him that this dress, beautiful as it was, made her disappointed in her own life? How could she explain the feeling of realizing you were too boring for the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen?

Masoud had never felt that way, she was sure. His life had measured up to everything that had ever fallen into it. He had never felt irrelevant in this way.

Because she couldn’t explain the feeling, she simply said, “It’s just too beautiful.”

“But you’re beautiful,” he said, seeming genuinely puzzled.

Eloise laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I’m beautiful because I’m wearing this dress, Masoud.”

“No. You were beautiful before, in the palace. And in the boardroom. And at the restaurant.”

“When I was licking crab off my fingers?”

“Why don’t you want the dress?” he asked, ignoring her question.

“Where could I possibly wear it? I don’t go to balls. A dress like this would be utterly over the top at any occasion except…I don’t know, maybe my own wedding. But if I’m the bride, this isn’t the right color, so I couldn’t wear it there, either.” She laughed at the ludicrous turn the conversation had taken. “As if I’m anywhere near getting married, anyway.”

“There’s an easy solution to this,” Masoud said. His smile was maddening. It was as if he knew something she didn’t.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“I didn’t bring you here on a fool’s errand, Princess,” he grinned. “There’s a ball happening tonight, and I’d like you to come with me.”

Eloise was struck dumb, unable to reply.

Masoud turned to the saleswoman and said something in Arabic. The woman became very excited, clapping her hands several times before seizing Eloise’s as if she expected them to jump up and down together.

He must have told her he invited me to a ball, Eloise realized, somewhat distantly. This still felt as if it was happening to someone else, someone who these sorts of things happened to. The woman and Masoud chattered back and forth rapidly for a few moments, and then she darted away.

“What do you say?” Masoud asked.

“I…what kind of ball?”

“Today is a political holiday in Al-Zhera,” Masoud said. “We celebrate with fireworks and a ball at City Hall.”

So, it wouldn’t be at the palace. Eloise wasn’t sure whether she felt relieved or disappointed. On one hand, dressing up and attending a formal event at the royal palace would be the perfect fantasy ending to this magical day. On the other hand, it would be incredibly anxiety-inducing. She wasn’t sure what the proper etiquette was for interacting with royalty—spending the day with Masoud had certainly been no help on that front—and she was sure that if she had to present herself to the Sheikh, she’d make a mess of it and embarrass herself and her country.

City Hall, though, she could probably handle. She was used to business events and knew how to conduct herself professionally. It sounded like that was what would be called for at this event.

The saleswoman returned with a wide, felt-lined box. Three necklaces rested inside. They were all silver and thickly laid with diamonds and sapphires.

“Choose one,” Masoud said.

“What, we’re just allowed to borrow one?”

“…We’re buying it, Eloise.”

“No,” she breathed. “That’s much too expensive.”

“It isn’t; I promise. Which one do you like best?”

“I can’t, Masoud.”

“I’m going to buy one of these necklaces today,” he said, smiling. “If you don’t choose, I will.”

“You choose.” She felt shy, suddenly, overwhelmed by the largesse of it all. “I can’t.”

Masoud seemed to understand, then. He rested a hand on her shoulder, met her eyes, and nodded, before calling the saleswoman over. She draped each of the necklaces in turn over Eloise’s shoulders, holding it in place so Masoud could see.

“That one.” The Sheikh selected a drop necklace with sunburst-shaped diamond clusters all along the chain and a sapphire pendant outlined in small diamonds. “That’s perfect.”

While Eloise had held back from saying so, it was her favorite, too. She breathed in as the saleswoman fastened the clasp around her neck and stepped back so she could turn to see herself in the mirror.

“Wonderful,” Masoud said. “I’ll get a bag for your street clothes.” He spoke to the saleswoman, and she nodded and produced a bag from beneath the counter.

“Wait a minute,” Eloise said. “I’m just supposed to walk out of the store in this?”

“We’re paying for it, aren’t we?”

“That’s not what I mean. This is the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen, and I’m just going to…walk down the street in it?”

“You’re going to walk to the car,” Masoud said. “The ball. Remember?”

“That’s now?”

“When did you think it was?”

“I don’t know!”

Somehow, when she’d accepted the invitation, she’d lost sight of the fact that it was already night time. Of course the ball was now. The day would be over soon. And yet, somehow, in her mind, she’d thought she would have more time to prepare. Now, suddenly, it was facing her down, immediate and terrifying.

Masoud took hold of her shoulders. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“I’ll be beside you the whole time.” He looked at her. “You want to go, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then trust me,” he said, and smiled that irresistible smile. “Everything is going to be fine.”