“She has no grounds,” Mac said. “None.”
He was already moving toward the boardroom before Paul had finished speaking. Cloe fell into step beside him without thinking about it, the way you moved when something was happening and standing still was not an option.
“Mac.” She kept her voice low. “You don’t have to fight this in front of your partners.”
“I’m not fighting anything.” He pushed open the boardroom door. “I’m closing it.”
The room had three people in it. Two men she recognised from the fourteenth floor, both senior, both with the careful expressions of people who had been handed something uncomfortable and were waiting to see how it would be received. And a woman in a dark suit sitting at the far end of the table with a folder in front of her and the composed stillness of someone
