Aisha and the Prince of Wales

Chapter I: The New Client

Anyone in the United Kingdom who hadn't been living under a rock knew of Elise Alva. One of the most sought-after fashion designers in the UK, Elise Alva had her flagship store (which was frequented by the rich and famous) in the heart of London. Her clothes ranged from occasions like 'polo match with the high-and-mighties' to 'white tie for dinner at the Buckingham Palace.' They'd even graced the Oscars' red carpet a fair few times. She was known for her luxurious aesthetic that catered to the uppermost rung of high society. Of course, she was very exclusive. As were her prices.

Twenty-five year old Aisha Ahluwalia had been working at Elise Alva's flagshio store in London for the past year. Armed with a degree in fashion, she had a keen eye for aesthetics, and was particularly skilled at helping clients build the perfect wardrobe to go with their personalities. She was also very good at keeping her knowledge of Elise Alva's more famous clients discreet, which was why she wa sone of their most sought-after personal shoppers.

In the one year since she'd joined Elise Alva, Aisha had worked with supermodels, Oscar-winning actors, famous cricketers from the English national team, and the wives of several star football players. Her talent for tact and ability to put forward suggestions in the most polite and unobtrusive of ways helped her handle even the most difficult clients- those who were inclined to throw starry tantrums, or begin a peevish tirade with the phrase, "Do you know who I am?"

That particular day, Aisha had just clocked in to work, looking immaculate in the fitted, navy blue suit and lilac shirt that was the uniform of the employees at Elise Alva. Her long, black hair with its hint of brown highlights was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her make-up was classy and understated. She wore tiny pearl studs in her ears, and polished black pumps on her feet. Their sleek surface reflected the golden overhead lights as she walked smartly to her station. She had barely put down her black handbag when the discreetly-placed bell at her table chimed. She had a customer.

Smoothening her hair with the flat of her palm, Aisha threw her shoulders back, and walked confidently jnto the foyer, where her client was likely to be seated. While the regular customers walked in through the front entrance of the building, had themselves scanned at the metal detector and their bags X-rayed before they proceeded to whichever level they wanted to shop on, the more high-profile clients were usually dropped by their chauffeur-driven limousines at a smaller side entrance where they weren't likely to be hounded by the paparazzi, and led to the foyer, where they would be served refreshments before being escorted by their personal shopper to a more private section of the store, where samples of Elise Alva merchandise were hung in neat rows, rather like an enormous walk-in closet, and could be examined at leisure.

Aisha put on her best smile as she walked into the foyer. She could see a tall man standing with his back to her, his broad shoulders encased in a midnight-blue suit, and a glass of champagne in his hand as he chatted with Rita, the redheaded server who was now holding an empty tray, and looking rather starstruck. At approximately 6'3", the man towered over Aisha's 5'9", and his dark hair curled attractively against his tanned neck. When he turned to face her, it took all of Aisha's willpower to prevent herself from doing a double-take.

It was the Prince of Wales.