Accidentally His

Chapter 6

LAYLA

FARIDA RETURNED WITHIN THE HOUR, her expression grim as she set a printed report on the desk between us.

"The number's a dead end," she said. "Routed through at least four different relay services before it ever reached Layla's phone. Whoever made that call knew exactly how to keep themselves untraceable."

"That takes resources," Zayd said, frustration evident beneath his controlled tone. "Not the kind of thing an amateur arranges on short notice."

"Or someone who's done this before," I said quietly. "Someone who's had practice staying hidden."

Zayd's jaw tightened, some private calculation playing out behind his dark eyes. "I want a security detail assigned to you immediately," he said. "Not optional. Not something you get to argue away out of pride."

"I wasn't planning to argue," I admitted, surprising myself with how easily the words came. Twenty-four hours ago, I would have bristled at anyone trying to control my movements. But twenty-four hours ago, I hadn't received a call from a stranger who somehow knew my name, my circumstances, and exactly how to make my blood run cold with a handful of quiet words.

"Good," Zayd said. "Farida will coordinate scheduling. In the meantime, I've arranged the meeting you requested. Yasmine's agreed to see you. Tomorrow afternoon, at a private location her team selected."

My stomach dropped slightly. "That was fast."

"She wants answers as badly as you do," Zayd said. "Faster, if I'm being honest. She's the one who nearly lost an engagement, a business partnership, and her own public reputation overnight, all without ever setting foot in the country where it happened."

The reminder settled uncomfortably in my chest. Whatever confusion and fear I'd experienced over the last day, Yasmine's version of this nightmare carried its own particular cruelty, watching her entire life reassigned to a stranger from thousands of miles away, powerless to correct it in real time.

"What's she like," I asked. "Do you know her at all?"

Something flickered across Zayd's expression, careful and measured. "We met exactly twice, both times in formal business settings arranged by our families. I know considerably less about her as a person than the situation probably warrants, given we were meant to marry within the month."

"That's not exactly reassuring," I said.

"No," he agreed. "It isn't. Though I'd argue it says considerably more about how this entire arrangement was structured from the start than it does about either of us as individuals."

I studied him for a moment, some new understanding settling into place. "You didn't want this marriage either. Even before any of this happened."

"I wanted the investment deal," Zayd said carefully. "The marriage was simply the price my board and Yasmine's family agreed made the partnership feel more secure. An alliance, dressed up as romance, the way these arrangements often are in circles like mine." His eyes met mine, something unreadable flickering behind them. "I imagine that sounds considerably more cynical than you're used to hearing."

"Actually," I said slowly, "it sounds exactly like the world I grew up watching my aunt navigate. Marriages as leverage. Family as currency." I paused. "I just never expected to become a pawn in that particular game myself."

Something softened, briefly, in his expression, not quite sympathy, but something adjacent to it, careful and unfamiliar on features that seemed built for calculation rather than warmth.

"For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I don't intend to let you remain one."

✦ ✦ ✦

The following afternoon, I sat across from Yasmine Conti in a private lounge at a hotel discreet enough that no photographers had managed to track either of our arrivals, my hands wrapped around a cup of untouched tea, my heart hammering with a nervousness I hadn't fully anticipated.

She was younger than I expected, though her composure carried the particular weight of someone raised from birth to understand exactly how much her family's expectations cost. Dark hair pulled back severely, an expression carefully neutral in a way that reminded me uncomfortably of Samira.

"You're not what I expected," Yasmine said finally, studying me with an intensity that made me want to look away.

"What did you expect?"

"Someone calculating," she said. "Someone who saw an opportunity in the chaos and decided to seize it for herself." Her expression shifted slightly, something almost grudging entering her voice. "You don't seem like that kind of woman."

"I'm not," I said. "I promise you, Yasmine, I never wanted any part of this. I was an assistant for one night, helping my cousin with a guest list. I didn't ask to be mistaken for you, and I certainly didn't ask to end up married to a man I'd never met before that evening."

"Married." Yasmine's jaw tightened. "That's still happening, then. Even now, even knowing the truth."

"Temporarily," I said. "Until the investment deal is secure, and until we understand exactly who did this and why."

"And after that?" Yasmine's eyes were sharp, searching. "What happens to me, Layla? My family's reputation was built partially on this alliance. My own future was tied to a marriage that's now been publicly handed to someone else, regardless of how accidental the circumstances actually were."

I didn't have a good answer for her, and the silence that followed carried a weight neither of us seemed eager to break.

"I think," I said finally, carefully, "that whoever did this to both of us wanted exactly this outcome. Two women, blaming each other, distracted by grief and anger toward the wrong target, while they walk away with whatever they were actually after." I met her eyes steadily. "I don't think either of us should let them succeed at that."

Yasmine studied me for a long moment, something calculating and increasingly thoughtful replacing her earlier hostility.

"You think this was deliberate," she said. "Not simply an unfortunate accident born from a blackout."

"I know it was," I said. "Someone forged documents identifying me as you. Someone arranged for your flight to be delayed by what your own team is calling suspicious mechanical issues. That's not coincidence, Yasmine. That's planning."

Something shifted across her expression, shock, quickly followed by a colder, more focused fury that had nothing to do with me at all.

"If you're right," she said slowly, "then I need to know exactly who benefits from a scandal this specific, timed this precisely, targeting a deal this valuable."

"So do I," I said.

For the first time since I'd sat down, something like genuine alliance flickered across her expression, tentative but real.

"Then perhaps," Yasmine said, "we should be asking these questions together, instead of letting whoever did this watch us tear each other apart from a safe distance."

My phone buzzed against the table between us, and I glanced down to find a text from an unknown number, the same cold dread from yesterday's call settling immediately into my chest.

Careful, Layla. Making friends with Yasmine wasn't part of the plan. Some mistakes are harder to fix than others.

I turned the screen toward Yasmine, watching her expression harden into something dangerously determined.

"Someone's watching us right now," she said quietly. "In this room."