Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm

"Ahhhhhhh~~~!"

Haya let out a string of high-pitched screams.

Martin wrinkled his nose, casting a sidelong glance at the noble princess.

Her face, contorted in a mix of exhilaration and sheer terror, caught his eye. When his gaze shifted downward, he spotted something that made him smirk mischievously.

Unaware of her predicament, Haya felt as if her very soul had been transported to a different realm. A tidal wave of indescribable emotions surged within her, building to an almost unbearable peak. The only release was to scream as loudly as possible.

She had always enjoyed the thrill of speed, but she never imagined that pushing the limits could deliver a high thousands of times more intense than anything she had ever experienced.

Her body seemed to resist, yet her soul screamed for more—faster, even faster!

Martin gradually slowed the car:

430 km/h… 350 km/h… 300 km/h… 250 km/h.

As the speed decreased, Haya's vision began to return to normal. The world stopped being a blur, and her brain finally started processing clear images again.

The intense pressure on her neck eased, and the ringing in her ears dissipated. She could think again, speak again, and—most importantly—feel her body.

Then she realized what had happened.

"What the f—!"

Haya swore under her breath, her eyes darting to Martin to see if he had noticed her embarrassment.

Martin, seemingly oblivious, stared calmly ahead. A subtle curve at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement, though it was hard to tell if he was laughing at her or simply enjoying himself.

"Cough, cough... Martin, I admit it—you're amazing!" she said, trying to sound earnest.

Meanwhile, she pressed her legs together and tugged at the hem of her dress, desperately attempting to hide the damning evidence of her ordeal.

Feigning composure, she added, "I'd like to go back now. Can you drive me home?"

Martin feigned surprise. "Take you home? Sure, but how am I supposed to get back?"

Haya hesitated before stammering, "You… you can drive my car back. Actually, you can keep it. This car—it's yours now."

Martin burst out laughing. "Well, thank you for your generosity, Princess Haya!"

He turned the car around and headed toward the city, where Haya owned a luxurious apartment.

As they pulled into the underground parking garage, Haya suddenly remembered—the seat! The evidence of her earlier "incident" would still be there, not to mention the lingering smell.

There was no way she could let Martin see that.

"Uh, Martin," she blurted out, "I just remembered… this car is actually really special to me. I can't just give it away."

Martin raised an eyebrow. "So, I'll just take a cab back?"

"Would you mind?" Haya asked, her expression turning sheepish.

Martin glanced at her conflicted face and couldn't help but laugh inwardly. Keeping his tone neutral, he replied, "Oh, sure. No problem. Well then… goodbye, beautiful Princess Haya!"

"Goodbye, Martin! You can go—I won't see you off!"

"Ha! No need for that."

Martin stepped out of the car and started walking toward the exit. After a few steps, he turned back, bent down, and said through the open passenger window:

"Oh, by the way, Princess, don't forget to clean the seat. You wouldn't want the smell to linger."

Without waiting for a response, he walked away, leaving a mortified Haya screaming in frustration inside the car.

"Ahhhhhhh!!!"

"Damn you, Martin!"

"This is so embarrassing—I can never show my face again!"

When Martin returned to his hotel suite, David Scott was still poring over the documents Leo had delivered earlier.

David had recently moved into the presidential suite with Martin, and the two were preparing for the upcoming oilfield bid.

The documents detailed the unofficial offers various companies had already made to the bidding committee.

Yes, the bidding process had already begun behind closed doors, well before the official event. While this was technically against the rules, this was the Arab world—they had their own rules.

The highest offer so far came from Texas Oil Group at $802 million, followed by BP at $800 million.

Martin now had a clear picture of the oilfield's location: a shallow offshore reserve in the Sertan region. Initial surveys estimated its reserves at 197 million tons of crude oil. With water depths of less than 35 meters, it was relatively easy to extract, even by shallow-sea standards.

Martin had done the math. If individual wells could produce over 10,000 barrels a day, the extraction cost would max out at $10 per barrel, possibly as low as $8.

That was lower than many onshore oilfields, highlighting why Middle Eastern oil was so coveted.

For comparison, China's Shengli Oilfield, where oil is extracted from rock fractures smaller than 1/270 the diameter of a human hair, would be considered a waste of time in the Middle East. There, oilfields were vast and easy to access—no need for "squeezing oil from stone."

Thanks to the intelligence provided by Princess Haya, Martin now knew the psychological price points of the other bidders.

While the official bids might go slightly higher, he was confident they wouldn't exceed the current estimates by much.

Six days before the bidding deadline, the UAE Ministry of Oil publicly announced the oilfield's location. However, by this point, the companies had no time to conduct proper surveys and were scrambling to buy any available information.

Once again, Oil Minister Hasfah capitalized on the situation. Selling preliminary survey data to multiple companies, he made another fortune.

As the bidding frenzy intensified, company representatives were busy applying for additional funds from their headquarters and revising their strategies.

Meanwhile, Martin and his team remained calm and composed. Campbell Oil's team had already crafted a precise bid tailored to the oilfield's specifics.

On the final day before the deadline, Haya provided Martin with another critical piece of intelligence: both Texas Oil Group and BP had raised their bids. Texas now offered $945 million, while BP followed closely with $938 million.

This was the bidding price—the amount to be paid upfront, even before drilling began.

"Quite the hefty sum!" Martin remarked, glancing at the updated numbers.

Though his words conveyed surprise, his demeanor remained utterly indifferent.

Thanks to the success of his recent films, the ongoing sales of his books, and the proceeds from selling Yahoo stock, Martin's liquid assets had swelled to a staggering $2 billion.

"More money?" Martin smirked. "Who's afraid of who? Bring it on!"