Free Illicit Magic by Camilla Chafer Page B

apartment. I wondered how many times she had stayed here. Maybe she and Marc were a thing? I couldn’t be sure. With a wide smile, Marc turned to shut the door behind him, leaving me alone at last.
    Inside the room, I took a moment to glance at my reflection in the mirror. I looked tired, and ever so slightly grimy. Great. There was nothing like a good first impression, as my manager at the temp agency had been so fond of telling me. I guessed I’d blown that first impression already and even if I tried to shrug it off, a little piece of my mind nagged at me for not being at least a bit better presented. It didn’t help one iota that Étoile looked like she had just stepped out of the salon, even though she had been on the same rough twenty-four-hour ride as I. I sighed. Crossing over to the closet, I opened it and found my bag inside. I knelt down and checked it was still zipped but I couldn’t be certain it hadn’t been rifled through, seeing as I hadn’t exactly packed neatly.
    Easing to my feet, I saw that a black garment bag was the only thing hanging on the rail, I reached forward and unzipped it. A dress, as expected, was inside. I pushed off the garment bag and held it up in my arms. It had a neat plain bodice with a square neckline and no sleeves plus a skirt that puffed out slightly at the waist. The skirt was a damask sort of fabric, with raised swirls of black that looked like it would rest just above the knee. It was elegant and probably, I realised, the most expensive thing I ever touched. Even more than Étoile’s gift of the jacket which I realised I hadn’t even taken off. A pair of black pumps with a low heel sat on the closet floor. I wriggled out of my shoes and inserted a foot. Of course, they fit. Eleanor was the type of woman who could size you up at a glance and probably left nothing to chance anyway. I put the dress back on the rail and shut the closet door, feeling a little ashamed that I was even thinking about its cost; but then, I reminded myself, I was surrounded by the most enormous wealth while I was used to so little.
    A low rumble emanated from my stomach and I patted it, trying to remember when I had last eaten. The only meal I could recall had been before the plane and my stomach was working its way up to reminding me of that with a series of no uncertain grumbles. I would have to wash first then look for a kitchen. It occurred to me Eleanor might not want me poking around in her home and she didn’t look like the home cooking type either. I would have to swallow my pride and just find someone to ask instead, or go hungry. I hoped they weren’t into fancy hors d’oeuvre with miniscule portions instead of real food.
    I shrugged off my new jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. Smoothing the coat’s shoulders, I was reminded again that I was still wearing the same clothes I’d worn to work and then on the plane. Yuck. I hoped I didn’t smell but I wasn’t going to have a sniff to find out. At least no one had wrinkled their nose at me .
    I shrugged off my top, feeling grimier by the minute and unzipped my skirt, shaking it to the floor so I could step out if it. I pulled my bag out of the closet, leaving my clothes in a little pile inside. I rummaged through the bag and pulled out clean jeans, another top and a fresh set of underwear and socks, thankful that I’d been to the laundry recently and that they hadn’t been near the smoke long enough to be tainted.
    After setting my clean clothes out on the bed, I went into the bathroom. Although it was small, it was well stocked with anything a guest might need. There were bottles of shampoo, conditioner and shower gel in the shower cubicle. An unused toothbrush and toothpaste set sat on glass shelf above the basin. Soft towels hung on a heated rail.
    I turned on the shower and wriggled out of my underthings, dropping them in a little heap on the tiled floor, before I dived under the hot water, holding my head under until my