[Getting his 'visitors' out of the apartment is not nearly as easy as getting them in because neither of the young ladies is feeling particularly inclined to leave thanks to the Italian jackass. The problem is that Gaius doesn't want them in his home, either. They are not intended for his private amusement, after all.
Three hours filled with incoherent babbling, a swimming pool full of tears and a monstrous headache later, he settles for making some calls. Another half hour later, a small army of stylists, designers and 'instructors', armed with a myriad of boxes marches into the Aubade.
By the time his apartment looks like the backstage area of a fashion show, Asher is long gone. The professionals know what they're doing and the girls should have caught on what their real purpose in this shiny country is. If not... Well, that would be a real shame.]
Fabulous job tidying the foyer up, ladies and gents. You have my eternal gratitude.