Calla gathered her belongings with trembling fingers. She was an i***t. She should have figured out a counterargument. Give her a day"s notice and she could provide a list of reasonable arguments, but she was never good at thinking on her feet. Rebuttals would undoubtedly start arriving in her head at four a.m. but it would be too late. Hell, it was already too late.
Damn it.
Damn it.She tucked her head down and scurried toward the boardroom door, anxious to be gone before someone came in and saw her flustered and befuddled. Retreat didn"t mean defeat. Maybe she could retreat all the way to Haiti or Easter Island. Quitting really was the only way out of this situation. Her spine stiffened at the idea of giving Quick what he wanted.
Retreat didn"t mean defeat.There had to be another way.
