"I think she might clean up quite nicely." I hadn't had time to re-read it and couldn't remember the details of Irene's resume, but nobody made it to ...n interview if they were an idiot or unsuitable. The point of the interview was to do the weeding that we couldn't do otherwise -- no unattractive women, no men, and no high-profile candidates.It was all very sexist and politically incorrect, and illegal to boot. I'd tried to speak up once early on, in defense of a rather homely girl, but. After Napoleon had been defeated, the fortress had been used by the British. It had begun to decline in the years after that. The British did not want to live there. It had become a prison for a while. Zoë stared in awe at the massive stone fortress as they drove by. "Citadelle Laferrière" she repeated in awe both trying to divert the obvious attention to her dress and pay respect to the architecture.The men looked at each other and smirked. "What did that mean?" Zoë wondered as she searched. With each passing moment I fought the surge of vulnerability that yearned to course through me. With my senses deprived, a heady mix of anticipation and fear of the unknown invaded my mind. As I battled these thoughts I felt his fingertips following the contours of my body, lightly dancing down the nape of my neck and along my exposed shoulder blades until they expertly found the material of my black dress. A smile spread across my lips. A reaction to his exquisite touches, light yet sensual. In the darkness and cool hues of the hallway, there are flashes of moonlight that illuminate her fire. We’re in the bedroom now. The blanket is tucked in perfectly into the bed. The pillows are sitting up like they do in those magazine shoots. There’s a bedside table with a lamp on it, nothing else. A desk with a laptop and a writing pad, nothing else. The closet is closed. Nothing on the floor. No stacks or piles of anything. A neatly organized bookshelf to the left of the closet. Amelia flips.
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