Chapter Four
A sleek black SUV, fully electric and whisper quiet, picked Lottie and Bili up from the airport and drove them through the city of Azzouan to the palace.
Both agents had been to Ain Zargiers before.
Cheap Ryanair flights and English being an official language of the country meant many Brits favoured the country as a last-minute getaway location.
Like any tourists, they’d shopped the main boulevards in the city and lazed on the pristine white sands in the islands of the Archipel des Azures.
They’d never been to the palace.
Their car was waved past guards at the palace gates. It skirted the main pavilions of the royal residence and tracked through the gardens to what the driver called ‘the Qasirim’s house.’
Bili whistled low. “Final proof money can’t buy everything.” She was profoundly unimpressed.
The place was more like a luxury hotel than a house, though whoever had briefed the architect clearly felt there couldn’t be too much gold.
Marble pillars framed a grand entrance of two ludicrously tall golden double doors.
Once inside, they found a courtyard with fountains shooting perfectly symmetrical arcs of water into the air, to land in ponds lined with gold.
A red and gold mosaic underfoot displayed a complex repeated pattern that looked impressive until Lottie dragged the small amount of written Arabic she knew into line and realised it said ‘Malik the Great.’
Bili nudged her shoulder.
“Finch, shut your mouth. You’re drooling.”
Lottie pulled a face. “I’m not. I like shiny things as much as the next girl, but this is… this is…” She wasn’t dazzled so much as repulsed. “Is that a golden grand piano? ”
“We are definitely not in Blackcroft anymore, babes.”
The driver left their bags in a neat pile in the courtyard and left them alone.
Doorways, arches and terraced walkways led off in all directions giving the impression of a sprawling complex with a maze of wings and gardens.
Through a perfect picture window draped in gold curtains, they could see a lagoon-style pool that meandered all the way down to a private beach.
Expensive-looking women lazed on recliners all around the pool.
A pool-side bar featured not one, but two glittering chandeliers.
On a raised dais by the pool, a gold Bugatti supercar sparkled in the sunshine.
“Do you think he might be compensating for something?” Lottie whispered.
They giggled.
Lottie cast an eye over the talent. “Ugh, so many gorgeous women lying about and just my luck they’re probably all straight.” She didn’t care. She was almost dying to meet the Qasira. Though of course, if her mission failed, it wouldn’t be too hard to find solace here.
They turned at the sound of footsteps behind them. A woman approached them dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse that looked so Monday at the office it felt like a glitch in the simulation. She smiled.
“I’m Kayley Jones. Guest liaison and event manager. Den mother, sometimes. Referee, often. Definitely your supervisor, team leader, head of HR—whatever you want to call me. Kayley is fine. Pleased to meet you.”
She swapped her phone to her other hand and shook each of theirs. She chuckled at their expressions.
“Not what you expected? I’m sorry I didn’t get to interview you personally, but you come highly recommended. Come through and we’ll do the paperwork.”
Lottie and Bili looked at each other. Kayley Jones was their age—late twenties—clearly a Londoner, and very down to earth.
It was on the tip of Lottie’s tongue to ask how the Nightingale knew Qasirim Malik’s procurer, or how a girl from Ealing got a job as madam in the prince’s private brothel but the look in Bili’s eye shut that smartarsery down.
They followed Kayley along an opulent hallway to an office where they spent a solid thirty minutes signing their lives away.
Non-disclosure agreements were nailed down watertight but the stringent conditions were more than amply made up for with a mind-blowing ‘salary.’
“As was hopefully discussed with you at your interview, you will be paid the retainer originally offered, and any jewels or gifts the Qasirim presents you with are obviously yours to keep,” Kayley said. Her manner was disconcertingly businesslike considering what they were discussing.
Lottie stifled a snort. The Nightingale hadn’t said anything about that six-figure retainer.
Knowing Evelyn, it was probably being paid directly to the Circle.
Jewels sounded nice though. Rather old fashioned.
Did Kayley mean jewellery or literal rocks of diamonds and emeralds?
Lottie wasn’t going to complain either way.
“You are to remain here in the house at all times unless directed otherwise, and you may expect to be called upon at any time.” Kayley paused.
“It would not be considered wise to refuse a request from the Qasirim, though of course, if anything makes you uncomfortable, you are welcome to leave. Simply let me know and I’ll make arrangements for you to return home.
You will not be permitted to return.” She let that sink in. “To Ain Zargiers. Ever.”
That hammered things home.
“We’re flat out right now,” Kayley continued brightly, “otherwise I’d run you through the etiquette training immediately, but we’ll have to get to that later.
The Qasira’s Green Futures summit means Malik has a lot of people he needs to entertain.
We need all our hostesses on the ground right now.
You’ll start work tonight. Let’s grab your bags and I’ll show you to your room. ”
Kayley Jones strode out on her sensible heels.
“And that’s how you run a harem on solid British admin,” Lottie whispered.
Bili smacked her.
Kayley led them back through the atrium and through to the guest wing. A painting that graced the entrance to the wing made everything crystal clear.
It was a large thing in an ornate frame—gold, of course. Lottie wasn’t into art but the painting had an antique feel—oils and muted colours and the look of something that should be in a gallery. It was almost certainly valuable. Very definitely the original.
But it was the content that brought Lottie up short.
The opulent scene was set in a renaissance European’s wet dream of a Barbary king’s harem, all vaulted ceilings and red carpets, and women in various states of undress reclining on pillows.
In the center, a dark-skinned king lounged on a dais, entitled and dangerous, his robes askew.
He idly watched the naked white woman who danced in front of him.
It wasn’t in the slightest bit subtle.
Lottie nudged Bili. “It’s a harem, ” she hissed. “Like, an actual harem.”
“And you’ve been joking about it for days. Finally sunk in, has it?”
Kayley overheard them. “We prefer to say that you’re guests.
Or hostesses.” She shrugged and stopped in front of a door.
“It’s a sweet gig,” she said, and her voice softened.
“If you’re sensible, it can set you up for life.
Want my advice? Stay away from the alcohol and the drugs, enjoy the high life while you can, and bank the reward.
I put mine in real estate.” She gestured for them to enter. “This will be your room.”
It was another lavish space with a king-size bed, gilded furniture and a view of the ocean.
“We’re sharing?” Bili asked.
“Apologies,” Kayley said, not sounding at all sorry. “We’re quite full at the moment. I’m sure you’ll be spending most of your time enjoying the rest of the estate.”
Lottie had a question about that. How was she supposed to meet the princess if she was stuck in the prince’s harem all day?
“So, we’re never allowed out?”
Kayley looked at her phone. “Oh no, while the summit is on you’ll be attending events all around Azzouan, playing hostess to whichever visiting businessmen Malik wants to impress.
But after that, yes, it’s parties around the pool day in, day out.
It’s hard work, but someone has to do it. ” She turned to leave.
“Will we meet the princess?” Lottie asked.
Kayley stopped dead on the spot. “The Qasira ,” she corrected, and her eyes swept up and down Lottie’s body as if seeing her for the first time.
Lottie regretted her slightly crumpled travel clothes, designer label though they were, but she threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin.
Kayley looked her over. “You might,” she murmured.
“The Qasira has certain tastes. If she calls for you, it will only be once. You’ll definitely enjoy it, though.
” She gave a small wistful sigh, then her business attitude returned.
“I’ve just sent the evening’s schedule to your phones.
Please be ready for the car at five. Welcome to the party. ”
She left.
They swept the room for bugs, found ten, and flicked on a scrambler.
Lottie blew out a low whistle once it was on.
“I’ve done some weird shit for crown and country, but this might just top it all.
” She frowned at an exquisitely expensive gold chaise lounge and dumped her suitcase on it.
The view through the window beyond showed yet more attractive women sunbathing by the pool.
“One day you will actually properly prepare for a mission.” Bili flopped down on the bed with a happy sigh. She stretched hugely and wriggled around on the gold satin quilt in an indulgent writhe. “This has it all over tailing dodgy drug dealers and corrupt bankers around London.”
“It’s problematic,” Lottie sulked.
“Just a lot!”
“I mean, I don’t see how I can get close to the princess—the Qasira —if I’m stuck in a bloody five-star hotel.” It was a rare moment in Lottie’s life when luxury was the setback.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6 (Reading here)
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48