Heaven's Empire

Ciara

The Range Rover pulled up outside huge black iron gates. The chauffeur tapped in a code on a keypad and the gates swung open obligingly, revealing the house beyond.

Set back from the road, it was a great, white townhouse, at least three stories tall, with beautiful ornate balconies and a shining black door with a heavy silver knocker. Kensa thanked the chauffeur, leading the way out of the car and up the steps. Unlocking the door, she said softly:

"Welcome to my home."

The hallway was larger than my entire room, with a marble floor and a great, sweeping staircase at its end. Showing me through the first door on the left into a spacious, open-plan kitchen area, Kensa continued:

"It could take us up to a few weeks to arrange suitable accommodation for you, but until then, you can stay here. I think you should find it comfortable enough." Setting her phone down upon the table, she led me out of the room, saying: "I'll show where everything is."

To say the sitting room was luxurious would be the understatement of the century; with its hand-crafted sofas and mahogany bookshelves, it looked like a show room. Up the grand staircase and onto the first floor revealed two immaculate bedrooms, a compact study and a bathroom that would be fit for the Queen. Ascending another flight of stairs, Kensa explained:

"This is the guest suite, where you can stay until we find you permanent accommodation."

It was an entire floor of yet more luxurious rooms. The bedroom featured a dressing table stacked with makeup products so expensive I could barely pronounce their names, the bathroom an enormous shower lit by a sky-light that gave a window to the stars and the walk in wardrobe at least a mile and a half of clothing racks loaded with surely the most carefully crafted garments on the planet.

"I c-can stay here?" I asked, stumbling on the words.

Kensa nodded.

"I understand you might prefer to stay in a hotel, but the press are irritatingly good at noticing when we hire a model, and the paparazzi always attempt to find ingenious ways to take photos. This house is well-suited to protecting privacy and has the added bonus of being close to the agency headquarters."

She paused a moment, before continuing: "I understand it's quite a change, but I think you should be able to find everything you need short-term here. I would have liked to let you stay at home, but one of the rules at the agency is that a model must be protected from potentially dangerous situations. I need time - a day or two, perhaps - to arrange security, who will accompany you to collect your things from your home."

"My mother's going to love that."

"We can try to secure her accommodation too, if you would like."

"Good luck with that. She denies the fact that she's related to me."

"We would like the two of you to have an harmonious relationship."

"Of course, but I don't know how achievable that will be. Perhaps once you're in contact with her you'll see." Kensa inclined her head, saying quietly:

"A recent change in the law means that at 16 you no longer need a guardian's permission for certain things, such as to buy drinks, model clothing or live where you wish. However, the agency will do all it can to maintain your relationships with your family members."

She took a look at her watch, noticing the time to be nine o'clock.

"I'm so sorry, I haven't been keeping an eye on the time. You must be starving. Will lasagne do?"

"Sure," I replied, still slightly dazed at the fact that the bedroom I am to stay in is larger than my entire house.

"By all means get yourself settled in here. As of when you signed the contract, everything in this suite is yours; the clothes, the products, the lot, so do as you wish with it."