Isabelle smoothed her hands down the side of her pencil-slim skirt. ‘Private. Exclusive. Luxurious.’
He gave a slow nod. ‘How is that different from any of your closest competitors?’
She found it hard to hold his penetrating gaze. Could he see how out of her depth she felt with him grilling her like an underling who hadn’t made the grade? ‘We at The Harrington offer boutique luxury unrivalled by our competitors.’
‘How do you know?’ he asked, still nailing her with his gaze. ‘Have you stayed at a competitor’s recently?’
Isabelle pushed her lips out on a breath. Talking to him always felt like a fencing match. He would always try and catch her off guard. ‘Not…recently.’
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