I was trying hard to become accustomed to my new life as “The Stath’s” current squeeze. When we arrived at the hotel, I was no longer expected to walk to the reception desk to check in. Instead, Jason drove me through the hotel lobby in his vintage silver sports car.

The receptionist leant in through the window: “We understand that you were so tired when you checked in two hours ago that you slept through your telephone ringing.” I was confused by her elaborate nods and winks until it dawned on me. I was an international jewel thief and the hotel was giving me an alibi.