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Rafi’s eyes locked onto the woman, captivated.

Her blond hair shimmered like silk in the sunlight, a tumble of soft waves that made his fingers ache to touch them—to test if they were as smooth as they looked.

Her pale skin practically glowed, and her full, pink lips…

God help him, he wanted to taste them. She was breathtaking.

Real and vibrant in a way that made everything else—the city noise, the chaos, even the dog—blur into background static.

He didn’t even know her name.

And yet his imagination was already betraying him with a string of increasingly indecent fantasies.

That’s rude, he told himself. You haven’t even said hello.

His gaze dropped to Aida, the guard-dog-in-training who had caused this unexpected detour. The massive shepherd had flopped on the grass, belly up, completely surrendered to the woman’s gentle hands. She scratched behind his ears with a warm smile that made Rafi’s chest tighten.

Lucky bastard , Rafi thought, jealousy flaring as Aida let out a deep, blissful sigh and closed his eyes.

The dog knew he was being smug. Rafi swore Aida’s tail wagged just a little harder in his direction, taunting him.

Behind him, his security team approached—panting, grim-faced.

He shouldn’t have sprinted off like that.

They would’ve caught up to Aida eventually.

But instinct had taken over, and now here he stood…

watching this stranger rub his dog’s belly while his thoughts spiraled into territory that was wildly inappropriate.

Still, he didn’t stop watching. Couldn’t.

She shifted on the grass, her back to him, her movements unselfconscious and fluid.

His gaze traced the elegant line of her spine, the curve of her waist. The way her fingers lingered just a moment longer on Aida’s fur than necessary.

His brain taunted him with the image of her hands on his skin, and he clenched his jaw, trying to drag his focus back to sanity.

He’d ask her to dinner. That was a start.

“Well, I’m sure that Aida is in good hands now,” she said brightly, rising to her feet and brushing her palms together. “I have to get back to work. My break’s over, and I’ve got a mountain of things to get done.”

She gave the dog one last affectionate pat. “Be a good boy!”

Then she turned.

Her smile still lingered, but her focus was already shifting, and Rafi felt something tighten in his chest. He opened his mouth to stop her—but she was already walking away, her purse swinging at her side. She disappeared around the bend, the dappled light of the trees swallowing her whole.

Rafi stood frozen, torn between chasing after her and staying grounded in reality.

But Aida made the choice for him.

With a sudden bark, the dog lunged in the direction the woman had gone, nearly slipping free again. Rafi dove, catching him by the collar just in time.

“Hold up!” he growled, bracing against the dog’s powerful body.

Pedestrians were already backing away again, eyeing the large German Shepherd with new concern. Rafi tightened his grip, whispering calm reassurances as Aida struggled against him.

“Who’s got his leash?” he barked over his shoulder.

One of the guards stepped forward immediately, leash in hand. “Here, sir.”

Aida whined, ears low, eyes locked on the path where the woman had vanished. He looked up at Rafi, pleading.

And Rafi—who wasn’t normally one for foolishness—actually considered it. What if I just let him go? What if Aida caught up to her? Just a few more minutes. One more conversation. Her name. Her number. Something.

But Aida wasn’t trained for that. Not yet. Too risky.

“No,” Rafi murmured with regret. “Not today.”

He clipped the leash, securing it with a tug. “We’re getting a harness. He’s going to pull this trick again.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the guard said, but Rafi was barely listening.

His eyes caught a flicker of movement near the bench where the woman had been sitting. A piece of paper lifted slightly in the breeze, curling like a beckoning finger.

He stepped forward, picking it up— a letter . Folded, slightly smudged. His eyes skimmed the first line before he forced himself to stop.

“…hurting your father’s feelings…”

Curious, he flipped it over—and there it was. Scrawled in the top corner in neat, slanted handwriting: Carys.

His pulse kicked. Finally, a name.

He tucked the letter gently into his jacket pocket and turned to the sketchpad lying beside it. The pages fluttered slightly in the breeze. He opened it and smiled.

She was an artist.

More than that—she was a brilliant one. Page after page filled with marketing concepts. Clean lines. Sharp humor. Relatable characters. And all of it centered around a single product: a running shoe his company had been trying to sell without success.

Until now.

He flipped another page. Another campaign idea. Then another. His grin widened with each sketch.

She didn’t just work for him. She was about to save the product line.

He checked his watch. Less than an hour until he saw her again— Carys.

“Aida, my boy,” he said, resting a hand on the dog’s head, “you’re my hero.”

Aida’s tail thumped the ground, and he barked softly before looking down the path again, as if still hoping she’d return.

“I know,” Rafi murmured, scratching behind his ears. “I’m hoping too.”

He tugged gently on the leash. “Come on, partner. Let’s go find her.”