Millionaires' Destinies: Isn't It Rich? / Priceless / Treasured

“Nope, just wrestling with his inner demons,” Mack said, a note of satisfaction in his voice.

“What just happened in there, or dare I ask?” she asked, wondering if Mack took as much pleasure in stirring up Richard as he did in rattling Destiny.

“You won’t hear it from me,” Mack said. “Brotherly loyalty and all that.” His expression sobered. “But, Melanie, try to remember something—Richard is one of the good guys.”

“I know that.”

“Don’t lose sight of it, no matter what happens, no matter how crazy things get around here, no matter what shenanigans Destiny is up to,” he said urgently. “Richard presents this secure facade to the world, but he needs someone in his life who can see past his rock-solid wall of defenses.”

“I’m helping him with his campaign,” Melanie pointed out. “I’m not here for any other reason, despite what he may have told you.”

Mack grinned. “The charade thing. Yeah, I know about that. Funny thing about charades. If you really throw yourself into one, the line between truth and fantasy starts to blur.”

“Not for me,” Melanie said confidently.

“Lucky you.” He regarded her seriously. “Or maybe not.”

Before she could ask what he meant by that, he was gone, whistling that chipper tune again. Apparently Mack was going to prove to be as annoyingly enigmatic as the rest of the Carltons.

Sighing, she continued on to Richard’s office, rapped on the door, then stuck her head inside. “Okay to come in? Your secretary’s not in yet.”

Richard gave her a sour look. “She’s not in because I’m not usually bombarded by visitors at this hour.”

Melanie refused to be daunted by his mood. “I ran into Mack in the hall. Did you two have words?”

“Mack and I never have words,” Richard said. “He never sticks around long enough to have words. He breezes in, stirs things up and takes off.”

So that was it. She’d suspected as much. “He seemed to be in a very good mood.”

“Of course he was. This was one of his better hit-and-run missions.”

“What did he want?”

Richard’s gaze narrowed. “Did you come over here at this hour to discuss my brother?”

“No, I came to get started on your marketing plans. All the rest is what’s known in the civilized world as conversation, idle chitchat, small talk, whatever.”

“I don’t have time for chitchat.” He gestured at the papers on his desk. “I’ve got a major division that’s underperforming. I need to figure out why.”

He could be telling the truth or it could be an excuse. Melanie couldn’t tell from his bland expression. “Then I’ll get out of your hair,” she said easily. “When can we talk? I want to establish a plan, a budget, that kind of thing. If you have a campaign manager, I need to meet with him. He—or she—can take a lot of this strategy stuff off your shoulders.”

Richard closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

“Headache?” Melanie asked sympathetically. “Little wonder, given everything you have on your plate. How about some tea? If you have a kitchen around here somewhere, I can make it before I head back to my office.”

“You’re not here to make me tea, dammit!”

She stared at him until he sighed.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“True enough,” she said, determined not to make more out of his lousy mood than necessary to make her point that she wouldn’t accept it. “Is that a yes or a no on the tea?”

He gestured to a door across the room. “There’s a kitchen setup in the conference room. There should be some tea in there. If you don’t mind making it, I’d love some.”

“Lemon, sugar, anything?”

“Nothing.”

She went into the conference room, which was paneled and elegantly furnished. A lavish arrangement of fresh flowers sat in the center of the rosewood conference table. Anyone walking into the room would know that this was a top-flight company, run by people with taste and refinement. She wondered if that was Destiny’s doing or Richard’s.

The kitchenette had a two-burner stainless-steel stove, a matching stainless-steel refrigerator, a cupboard filled with fine china and crystal and a drawer filled with sterling silver place settings, everything necessary for entertaining well-heeled board members.

Melanie filled a teakettle with water and put it on to boil, then searched for the tea. She found a wooden tea chest with a dozen different blends, chose a packet of Earl Grey and then put it and a porcelain cup onto a small tray. When the water was ready she filled a matching porcelain teapot, added it to the tray and returned to Richard’s office.

Without saying a word, she poured water over the tea bag, then backed away. “I’ll wait to hear from your secretary about scheduling that meeting.”

As she started past Richard, he snagged her hand. “I really am sorry. My head’s throbbing, I’m in a lousy mood, but that’s no excuse for biting your head off.”

She smiled at him. “As long as you see that, there might be hope for you yet.”

“Even I’m not too old to learn a thing or two,” he said. “As long as you’re here, why don’t you stay and we can talk over some of your ideas? I don’t have a meeting scheduled until eight-thirty.”

“What about that pile of paperwork?”

“It can wait. I’m not thinking clearly enough to deal with it anyway.”

Melanie nodded and sat down. “Okay, then, here are the things we need to nail down. How much time do you want me to spend on your marketing plan? Do you want an initial strategy that can be turned over to staff, or do you want me to stay on to coordinate it? Originally we talked about some consulting on Carlton Industries marketing, as well. Is that priority or is the campaign? I don’t need answers right this second, but you do need to think about all this. I don’t want to run up a bill, unless we’ve agreed on every aspect.”

“I appreciate that,” Richard said, regarding her with a vaguely surprised expression.

“What?”

“I didn’t expect you to be so…” He faltered.

“Organized?” she suggested mildly. “Could be that first impression I made. I really am good at what I do. Destiny wasn’t wrong about that.”

“I’m beginning to see that.” He reached for a stack of folders on the corner of his desk and passed them to her. “These are résumés for prospective campaign managers. Look ‘em over and give me some input.” He scanned his day planner. “We’ll meet again at three. I’ll be able to give you fifteen minutes, so be on time and keep it short. I’ve set up an office for you down the hall. You can use it when you’re here. If you need anything that isn’t there, tell Winifred, my secretary. She’ll see that you have it. We’ll deal with all the other issues once the campaign manager has been hired. He should be in on that meeting.”

“Agreed,” she said at once. “I’ll see you at three, then.”

She was almost out the door, when he called her back. “Yes?” she said.

“Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

“Richard—”

He cut her off before she could voice the protest. “This is business. I have to attend a fund-raiser at eight. Destiny’s co-chair. There will be a lot of people there you should get to know.” He grinned. “And it will make Destiny happy to see you with me.”