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hope. But Jagor never came: the pilot called us back to our seats shortly before landing and I was left jet-lagged, exhausted and confused. Now that we were around Jagor’s staff, were things going to be strictly business?
    ***
    The hotel was vast: huge, echoing corridors, dark oak paneling and ceilings fifteen or twenty feet high. The Prince had taken over the entire top floor, even though that meant leaving several rooms empty. Arrangements were made for lunch and then Jagor retired to his room to work.
    In my own room, I found a terse note from the Prince’s dresser to call him if anything didn’t fit. I didn’t understand until I opened the walk-in wardrobe.
    Hanging up were seven suits, each one costing as much as I made in a month. Hanging next to them, several blouses, in white, blue, red and black, all of them exquisitely tailored and finished. I tried on a suit as a test: it fitted perfectly, though the blouse was tighter than I was used to and the skirt considerably shorter. I suspected Jagor had been veryspecific.
    In velvet-lined travel boxes at the bottom of the wardrobe, I found six pairs of heels. I drew in my breath at the height of them: five inches, at a guess – and then almost dropped them when I turned them over and saw the bright red soles.
    I tried the drawers. One held hold-ups in a variety of shades: no tights. The other held underwear: basic bras and briefs in black and white. Surprisingly tame, given that the dresser had no doubt been pandering to Jagor’s whims.
    Then I realized why. Everything else could be seen as necessary – a working wardrobe. But Jagor couldn’t get away with buying me sexy lingerie without his staff suspecting…if they didn’t already.
    The bathroom had been stocked with not only a wide selection of toiletries, but also a travel case of make-up: more than I’d use in a year, and of much better quality. Finally, already charging in a cradle on the desk, there was a brand new smartphone: the latest model, already programmed with the numbers of everyone in the retinue. I had everything I needed; and no idea what to expect.
    I turned on the shower full-force and stood under the spray until the jet lag receded and I felt halfway human again. Wrapped in a towel, I returned to the bedroom, did my nails and make-up, and dressed in one of the new suits. I stood, unsteady in the heels, and tentatively looked at myself in the mirror.
    I gasped at my reflection: I almost didn’t recognize myself. The high heels made my legs look endless while the skirt hugged my thighs and ass. The blouse and jacket nipped in around my waist, making the most of even my modest curves. And yet…the outfit managed to be sexy, but not slutty. The perfect tailoring and expensive fabrics landed it just on the right side of the line. It was eye-catching, but I could get away with it and look professional. Just.
    Less than ten minutes later, Jagor called me on my new phone and summoned me to his room.
    ***
    Like mine, his room had enormous windows opening onto a stone balcony. He had them all open, and a warm sea breeze was making the nets billow into the room. Sunlight drenched the floor, soaking into the hard, polished wood and heating the air, making me feel languid and lazy as soon as I stepped inside.
    Jagor was looking out at the sea, his hands clasped behind him. He turned and saw me, and a grin spread across his face. With two quick steps, he grabbed me around the waist, lifted me easily and kissed me. I squealed in surprise, feet kicking in the air, and then relaxed into it. When his tongue slipped into my mouth, I let out a moan. God: what was I turning into?
    He held me like that, as his tongue hungrily explored my mouth; then started kissing my exposed neck. He eventually set me down and stepped back.
    “You look incredible,” he told me.
    I looked down at my outfit and flushed. “It’s not— I mean, it’s lovely, but not what I’d usually— Thank you.”
    He just looked at me.