I clutched the garment bag against my chest as I climbed the stairs to my apartment, Jessica's situation playing on repeat in my mind. Princess Maker Agency. What kind of name was that? It sounded like something out of a bad reality show, not a legitimate business.

And the way she'd defended it like it was perfectly normal to let strangers dress you up and parade you around for rich men.

Maybe I was being hypocritical. After all, wasn't I doing something similar with Xander? Except my ...