A closet? Estelle wondered, thinking of the many cleverly concealed cupboards and storage spaces César Ritz had built into his hotel. Or a servants’ entrance? Or possibly a portal by which guests could arrive and leave with secrecy and discretion? Hesse released a catch near the wainscoting, and a thick, heavy door swung silently inward. He stepped forward and reached above his head, switching on a light.

“I think this will be suitable for you.” He was enjoying this.

Estelle let him. It suited her to be underestimated. Better yet, dismissed. “A closet? I refuse.”

“One does not refuse the Reichsmarschall, Mademoiselle,” the aide said. “Do let me know if you require further assistance.” He finished with an unmistakable leer before stepping back and closing the door behind him.

Estelle looked around the space, lit only by the bare bulb over her head. It was indeed a closet. A drafty, somewhat dusty broom closet, and she did not doubt for a second that he had put her in here to humiliate her. There was a small latch on the inside of the door, and Estelle slid the bolt across. At least Hesse wouldn’t be able to humiliate her further. She knew his type. The sort who could feel big only if they could make those beside them feel small.

The closet had clearly been part of the renovation in some manner, given the scent of newly cut lumber that lingered in the air and the wisps of sawdust beneath her feet. Against the wall to her right, a set of narrow shelves housed a collection of tins. Furniture polish, Estelle discovered, set beside a small stack of cloths. She put her handbag on the shelf next to them.

To her left, in the back corner, three brooms of varying sizes were propped together, a dusty toolbox at their base. Above them, a twist of what looked like heavy wires emerged. They were newly installed, Estelle judged, based on the shiny, gleaming tacks that secured them. The wires climbed the wall, ran across the ceiling, and then vanished into the opposite corner closest to the lightbulb. Estelle frowned. What was the purpose of having a nearly empty closet in the Imperial Suite that housed a few tins of furniture polish and brooms, other than to humiliate would-be whores?