The next morning, Asim went straight to Elena’s room before he’d even changed into his regular clothes. Hair mussed and circles under his eyes, he knocked softly on her door. Their dinner the night before had been quick and stilted. She and Aubrey retired to their rooms before he could probe much, and he’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, plagued by a knot in his gut that he couldn’t ignore or untangle.

He knocked again. She was usually up by nine, so maybe his eight thirty arrival meant she’d need a few extra moments to rouse. He paused and then knocked a third time, louder.

No answer.

He turned the doorknob. Unlocked. He pushed the door open a crack and peered inside. The bed was made, unused. He pushed the door open all the way and stepped in tentatively.

“Elena?”

No answer. He checked the bathroom. All quiet, nobody there. No smiling Elena to greet him as she had so many mornings, putting on mascara or brushing her teeth. His chest tightened and he hurried out, heading for Aubrey’s room.

Maybe they’re in there. Maybe they’re getting ready for the day together.

But she never made an early visit to Aubrey’s. The truth spread through him, sinister and swift. He knocked on Aubrey’s door, already knowing the result. No answer.

He pushed open the door, glancing around inside. Eerily quiet and well-kept, like that vocal guest had been merely a fantasy. He pulled the door shut, heart pounding as he considered his next step. A member of the staff passed by, and Asim called to him.

“Have you seen the girls?” His voice came out rushed, jagged. “I can’t find them.”

“Sir,” the young man responded. “I’m sorry, but the ladies left late last night. Your mother organized it. I assumed she told you.”

The world around him grew quiet as he struggled to process the information. Your mother organized it. Asim thanked him and ran to the family wing, banging on his mother’s door before he could think better of it.

She pulled open the door, greeting him with a smile. “Asim. This is early for you.” She pushed an earring through a lobe, heading to her vanity.

“What have you done with Elena and Aubrey? You can’t just send my fiancée away. It’s my choice who I marry.”

His mother settled into the plush seat in front of her vanity, meeting his gaze through the mirror. After a swollen silence, she reached into a tiny drawer in a jewelry box, revealing the engagement ring he’d given to Elena. She set it on the gleaming surface of the vanity.

“You’re right. It is your choice who you marry.” She adjusted both earrings and then turned to face him, her face neutral. “But you did not choose to marry Elena.”

He furrowed a brow, stepping closer. “What are you talking about? I chose her. We were to be married.”

“No, my son, you did not.” Safiya tutted, crossing her legs. “She came to me last night and told me the whole story. She asked for my help getting back to the United States. Which I gave her, obviously.”

Asim grimaced, her words leaving a painful trail as they circled through his body. This wasn’t just unfortunate, this was embarrassing. And the more her words settled, the more it seemed as if he’d been holding her against her will. As if he’d kept her a captive of their growing attraction.

“How could she do that?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the bedroom as the thoughts collided, bulky and unforgiving. So many things vied for his attention, he didn’t know where to start. “I thought we’d grown close. I thought we had something.” He stilled, a more painful truth emerging, one that stole his breath. “She didn’t even say goodbye to me.”

“You’re a fool,” his mother said curtly, turning back to the mirror. “What did you have? A loose agreement to lie to your mother? That’s nothing. You had nothing. Besides, no woman wants to be a concubine. A paid escort. What did you think would happen?”

He balled his fists, the truth of her words sinking to his gut like a sick, dense knot. “Tell me where she went.”

“I don’t know.” His mother leaned forward to apply mascara in the round vanity mirror, her eyes garishly huge in the reflection. “I gave them cash, enough to make up for all the time they wasted here trying to appease you. Instead of living their own lives, they were forced to be supporting actors in your silly drama.” She tutted, pausing as she finished touching up the mascara. “If you had not been so concerned with yourself, you might have seen that your match was right in front of you the whole time.”

Asim’s mouth fell open. “What are you saying? I thought you didn’t want me to marry her. You’ve been watching our every movement, quizzing her every chance you got. This makes no sense, Mother.”

Safiya sighed. “You’re so much like your father. Completely oblivious to the wiles of women. Have I not taught you anything?” She glanced sharply in the mirror. “I suppose not well enough. And maybe that part is my fault. But it was obvious you two had only just met. I wanted to see if you’d stumble—you can hardly blame me.” She grabbed a tube of lipstick, twisting it out. “Since I knew this was a trick, of course I didn’t dissolve the original agreement. But as time went on, I wondered if you would realize what sort of woman you’d gotten your hands on.”

Asim laughed bitterly. “Now you’re really not making any sense.”

“No?” She lifted a perfectly shaped brow.

“You’re telling me you would have wanted me to marry Elena? After the past three weeks of intolerable scrutiny and disapproval from you?” He scoffed.

Safiya set the tube of lipstick down, turning to face him. “Son. What I want is for you to marry well. To a woman who matches you in some way. Whether it’s your heart or business, either is fine. My pick with the Dahoud family was a business match; she’s someone who will help manage our business and your life. But you unwittingly found someone to match your heart. You just never quite realized it.”

Asim rubbed his face with his hands, sinking onto the edge of his mother’s bed. After a moment he flopped backward, staring at the gilded ceiling. “God, you’re right.”

Safiya returned to the vanity mirror, tracing the deep red lipstick over her lips. “I know.”

Asim lay there, studying the ceiling, letting the thought crash over him as he sifted through the chaotic mess inside his head. He lay there until his mother got up and rummaged through her closet, lay there while she hummed and tried on a few different pairs of shoes.

Finally, he sat up, blinking with clarity. She smiled down at him, looking pleased with herself.

“Mother, I need the ring.”

“Oh?” She glided to the vanity, picking up the token of his foolishness. “What are you planning to do?”

“I’m going to find Elena,” he said, the words reverberating through him. “I want you to dissolve the marriage offer with the Dahoud family. Because once I find Elena, I’m going to marry her.”

His mother turned to him, eyes shining, and handed him the ring.