Training, clear Conduct of Meeting rules, and mental health support.
Julian looked at her, and for the first time that night, he smiled. It wasn't his charming, politician smile. It was sharp. predatory. The smile of a partner.
The photo was grainy, clearly taken from a distance, perhaps through the gap in the blinds of the storage closet on the 39th floor. It showed a woman pressed against a rack of old files. Her skirt was hiked up, her head thrown back in a profile that was unmistakably Clara’s. The man’s face was hidden in the crook of her neck, but the distinctive cufflinks—vintage silver coins from Gibraltar—were visible at his wrist.