Obviously he did for his gaze narrowed in renewed suspicion. “You asked for this, didn’t you?” He coolly shifted the subject.
The smug expression on Setha’s licorice-dark face showed the slightest traces of unease then. Aside from being hard to surprise, her brother had a scary talent for reading people. “Dad asked me to step in,” she blurted and stood from her chair. “He thought I’d like a change of pace since we’re a bit slow just now,” she added, referring to her job managing Melendez Corporate Charities.
“Bullshit again,” Sam said while folding his arms over his chest. “Why the hell would you want to be involved in this?”
“I wanted to help.”
“Double bullshit.” Sam gave her the benefit of a hard stare for only a few seconds longer and then shrugged. “But I won’t argue.”
“I promise I’m not after your job, Sam.” Setha clutched her hands to the center of her chest. “Besides, I don’t know a thing about negotiating ad rates.”
“Then you’re in luck since rates aren’t what we can’t agree on.” He leaned across the massive desk and grabbed a hefty file there. He passed it to Setha and waved a hand to urge her to view its contents.
Obliging, Setha peered into the worn folder and scanned the first 8½x11 glossy she picked up. Her mouth fell open. “You’re not serious?”
* * *
Khouri adjourned the budget meeting following his father’s hasty departure. He forbade Avra to leave and grilled her about the advertising issue being unsettled with a client because of personal differences. Avra, unfortunately, wasn’t interested in discussing the Melendez account.
“Did you see how he just rushed out?” She bit her thumbnail while watching the closed conference room door.
“So what?” Khouri didn’t break his slow stride while pacing the room and shuffling through the account folder.
Avra rolled her eyes. “So what?”
“Hell, Av, he’s gotten notes and had to leave meetings early before.”
Avra’s gaze slid back to the door. “There’s more to it. He looked strange… I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on his face before, have you? Khouri?”
Her brother didn’t respond and Avra waited for him to pass by during his pacing. She reached out to punch his arm and winced when her fist connected with an iron-hard bicep. “Dammit, Khouri, the least you can do is listen to me.”
Khouri’s deep-set stare was focused on his mobile. “Your client wants a meeting in the morning,” he muttered. “They’re sending Setha Melendez.”
Avra’s brows rose and her expression turned animated. “Aah…the baby sis—they really are going after cooler heads. Prettier heads, too.”
“Pretty.” Khouri smirked over his sister’s use of the word.
“Haven’t you ever met her?” Avra folded her arms across the tailored salt-and-pepper vest she sported. “I was sure that you had….”
Khouri only shook his head.
“Guess that makes sense. Hmph, she’s not a big presence at the company—works for the charity end, handling money the corporation donates internationally or somethin’ like that.” She rolled her eyes and eased from her perch on the table. “If what I’ve heard from most men is true, then you’re in for a real treat tomorrow morning.”
Khouri remained silent and Avra guessed—hoped—he was too preoccupied by the upcoming meeting to worry over her departure. She took advantage of the fact and decided to try for a quiet escape.
Answering the email regarding the meeting, Khouri didn’t lift his head. “We’re not done yet,” he called.
“Damn, Khouri…” Avra was seconds away from stomping her feet in agitation. “Sam Melendez’s idea of advertising auto parts is to have some half-naked woman cradling brake pads between her boobs. Now I don’t think that’s what we want on the pages of the Review, do you?”
“Maybe not.” Khouri chuckled while finishing up with the email. “But it’d sure as hell sell a crap load of brake pads.”
“Khouri…” She actually whined that time.
Grinning, Khouri agreed that he’d hounded his big sister long enough. “I need for you to send me everything you’ve got on this thing so I won’t look like a complete fool for the Melendez’s prettier head.”
“Deal. As soon as I check in on Dad.”
Khouri eased the phone into his trouser pocket. “Do you honestly think there’s anything to be upset about?”
“I hope not.” She shrugged and extended her hand. “Care to join me and find out?”
Chapter 2
Setha refused to take an office at Machine Melendez. After all, she really was there only to offer her assistance with the advertising issue. At least it was the issue that gave her the opportunity she needed to get inside Ross Review.
While the man she needed to see was no longer associated with the publication, the advertising angle would hopefully give her the chance to get a feel for the Ross family. Basil Ross especially. She knew how it felt to be wrongly perceived by someone she’d never met.
Sighing, she curved her bare feet beneath her on the rust-colored suede sofa in Samson’s office and reviewed the portfolio he’d given her.
“Better take a stab at educating myself on this so the man won’t think I’m a complete idiot,” Setha murmured, thinking of her meeting with Khouri Ross.
She couldn’t help but laugh as she browsed the glossy artwork for the proposed Machine Melendez ads in the Ross Review. No wonder Avra Ross couldn’t work with Sam, she thought. In her brother’s defense, however, Setha knew he was only seeing dollars and not…well…sex. It was yet another testament to how well he read people. He knew what would sell. That, in addition to the fact that Machine Melendez could have easily been called Macho Melendez.
Setha smiled at the thought. While her brothers were a handful, she was happy that her father had been blessed with three sons to immerse in the world of men. Daughters would have definitely not fared well, but her dad would have certainly tried to…initiate them.
Setha harbored no jealousy or envy toward her brothers. She was quite pleased with being the “softer side” of the Melendez clan. At least, she was quite pleased with letting the men in her life think she was the softer side. They would hit the roof if they knew what she’d been up to over the past several months.
She had to admit they’d have a right to hit the roof. Only to herself could she admit that she’d gotten in way over her head. But then, wasn’t that the Melendez way? Get in deep, be so driven to succeed that it was necessary to fight to get out from beneath it all? And yet, be better for it because of the struggle?
Setha cast aside the artwork and groaned, wearily massaging a stockinged foot. It had been forty-eight hours since the night she’d literally had to run for her life. Whoever her pursuer was, he was no fool. He had seemed to anticipate her moves before she even made them.
Or, perhaps he had help? Setha shook her head to cast off the even more unsettling possibility. Nervously, she twirled a wayward onyx-colored tendril about her index finger. How had the simple act of helping someone turned into the equivalent of opening a can of worms? The more she’d dug for answers—the deeper she’d gotten—the more she’d discovered and the news wasn’t good.
Could her father have really been involved in what she’d discovered? True, most businesses as widespread and lucrative as Machine Melendez often owed its success to a foundation of