Vincent’s eyes widened slightly, but his expression remained composed. “Boss, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Tiffany slid a printout of the transcript across the desk. “Don’t play dumb with me, Vincent. I have proof of your little late-night chat. Start talking.”

He glanced down at the paper, his brow furrowing as he read the words. When he looked back up, his gaze was steady. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Then enlighten me,” Tiffany said, leaning back ...