Tareef (The Brothers Ali Book 4)

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Tareef (The Brothers Ali Book 4) Page 9

by Celeste Granger


  “So, I take it you plan to keep seeing him?”

  “Yes, we plan to see each other again.”

  “You really like him, don’t you, Naomi?”

  “I do,” she agreed. “But I’m trying to be smart about it; not go too fast, not fall too fast. Just let things happen naturally without getting ahead of myself. Or him, for that matter.”

  “Because of Tareef,” Rocky concluded.

  “Because of Tareef.” It was a damper on her otherwise pleasant mood.

  “So,” Naomi sang, what do we have going on today? Anything I need to take care of?”

  She needed to change the subject away from Tareef. It was conscious, and it took effort. Naomi still felt Tareef in her heart, and the mere mention of his name took Naomi back to that first dance when he held her so close, she could feel his heartbeat against her.

  “How’s finalizing your firm going?”

  “I’m just waiting on the official paperwork from the State,” Naomi replied. “I finalized all the paperwork and the business plan, so that’s the final step.”

  “And, Public Relations by Singleton, LLC will be a thing, right?” Racquel asked excitedly.

  “It will be a thing,” Naomi agreed. “A real thing that’s mine.”

  “That’s amazing, Na,” Rocky exclaimed. I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thank you. It’s been a long time coming.”

  “But you didn’t give up. That’s what’s most important.”

  Naomi nodded and felt the hot press of tears against the backs of her eyes. It was a moment of levity. There had been so many times when she wanted to give up when she wanted to quit when she didn’t think it was going to happen because life got in the way. When Naomi fell quiet, Racquel wasn’t surprised. She knew what Na went through to get to this place. And with the recent revelation about Naomi’s mother, Racquel understood even more.

  “Had you considered a celebration of some sort,” Racquel asked.

  “It feels like I almost have to, given my whole business is public relations, building a brand, enlisting others from the professional sector to elicit representation from my company.”

  “Absolutely, so we should do it up,” Racquel agreed.

  “Celebrate and promote at the same time,” Naomi added.

  “That sounds great. But there are just a few questions that need to be answered.

  Naomi knew precisely which questions those were. They were the same inquiries she raised with Rocky when she started representation for her company. “Who, what, when, where, and how.”

  Ever since Mayor Bottoms talked to Tareef about the State versus Whitman case, it dominated his time and his thoughts. But there were some obligations Tareef couldn’t get out of that he still needed to manage as a part of Ali International.

  “I guess we’ll call the meeting to order,” Omar said, taking his seat at the head of the board room table. Omar didn’t believe in devaluing his son’s time. So, although Tareef was noticeably late, Omar wouldn’t make the others wait. They arrived on time.

  “O’Shea, where are we with the expansion of the natural and organic supplements slated for release this fall?”

  Just as O’Shea prepared to answer, the door to the executive office opened, and all heads pivoted.

  “My apologies, family,” Tareef explained as he settled into his customary seat.

  “You know how dad feels about tardiness,” Ameer whispered as he leaned over to his brother.

  “I know,” Tareef quietly replied. O’Shea continued once Tareef settled in.

  “We are on track as far as production is concerned; however, I’m not satisfied with the marketing and PR samples we’ve received,” O’Shea added. “What’s been offered hasn’t risen to the level that would show the expanded products in the best possible light.”

  “Well, we won’t settle for anything that doesn’t highlight the best possible features of benefits of the new product, so I agree, keep searching,” Omar concluded.

  “And the charitable component for families in need, socioeconomically challenged, and our senior clientele?” Omar asked.

  “That’s my area, dad,” Tareef replied. “I have gone over the paperwork for the 5013c in combination with the Department of Human Services requirements. I just want to confirm the final numbers, and then I’ll send it to Basel for final financial approval.”

  “When will you have that to me, Tareef?” Basel asked.

  “This new Legal Defense Fund case has been taking up a lot of my time, but I will make the final paperwork a priority and get it to you by this weekend.”

  “Sounds good,” Basel agreed. “With that projection, then I can have it to you dad by mid-week of the following week.”

  “Excellent,” Omar concurred. “Is there any other new or old business that needs to be addressed?”

  “I don’t have anything new,” Ameer replied. Israel and the remaining brothers agreed.

  “Good, good,” Omar smiled. “The last thing I wanted to remind everyone of, well the second to the last thing, is we should have information for your individual financial portfolios and stock reports by the end of the month. Our external legal team has sent me the most recent projections, and all of you will be receiving a sizable bonus for the exceptional work you continue to do.”

  “Dad, you know that’s not necessary,” Khalid noted, and his brothers agreed. “We are all appreciative of what the company has done for us professionally and personally. More is not necessary.”

  “But it remains my desire for each of you.”

  Omar’s word was the final word. Everyone accepted what their father said.

  “Now that we’ve reached that understanding,” Omar smiled broadly, knowing his sons understood his vision for the family, “then our business here is concluded.”

  The men got up from the table and fellowshipped with each other. Although the Ali’s were a close-knit family, their international duties, responsibilities, and philanthropic work made reuniting even more important. And they did it as frequently as they could.

  “You are never late,” O’Shea chided his younger brother, greeting him with the secret Alpha Phi Alpha handshake.

  “I know, man,” Tareef agreed. “Just been incredibly busy.”

  “I understand busy, but you need to make time for more than work, bro,” O’Shea advised as the eldest brother. It’s not dissimilar advice than he’d give his brothers before, but periodically, they needed a reminder.

  “I just need to push through for the next month or so, and maybe things will slow down.”

  “That’s the thing, Tareef. There are always lots of responsibilities and things that fill our plates. Things don’t just slow down. We have to slow them down and make room for more, vacation, relaxation, a social life, even love.”

  “There you go again,” Tareef reminded. “Everyone isn’t fortunate enough to marry their best friend, someone they’ve known forever, grew up with, loved even before they understood what love was.”

  “That might be true, Tareef, but it will happen for you, too, if you let it,” O’Shea affirmed.

  Tareef wasn’t going to be dismissive with his brother. He knew O’Shea spoke not only from a place of experience but also of genuine love for him.

  “We’ll see,” Tareef acquiesced. “Did I hear you mention that the PR proposals you’ve received thus far missed the mark?”

  “Yes, I’ve been extremely underwhelmed,” O’Shea admitted.

  “I may have a suggestion for you,” Tareef considered.

  “Well, let me know,” O’Shea commented. “We need to get someone soon, or the launch will be delayed.

  “And we both know how much our father dislikes delays.”

  “About as much as he dislikes tardiness,” O’Shea chuckled.

  After conversing with the rest of his family, Tareef prepared to leave. He was already thinking about the Whitman-Williams case and admittedly, Naomi. Yet, as Tareef packed his things and started out of t
he office, he wondered why when he wasn’t working, and his mind quieted, they were filled with thoughts of Naomi; the most pervasive one was of Naomi walking away.

  Chapter thirteen

  “When Naomi saw Malcolm’s name light up her phone screen, she smiled. So as not to appear anxious, Naomi waited to answer until the third ring.

  “Hello.”

  “How are you, Naomi?” He had a sexy deep voice that Naomi couldn’t get enough of hearing.

  “I’m doing well,” Naomi answered. “Looking forward to seeing you later.”

  “Which makes what I have to say next even more difficult,” Malcolm replied, feeling bad about having to disappoint her, “especially since I was looking forward to seeing you as well.”

  “Is everything okay?” Naomi asked. Malcolm had never broken off a date with her. Although she promised herself, she wouldn’t become overly invested until she was sure of his investment level, Naomi did like Malcolm. He’d been nothing but kind and a perfect gentleman towards her. Malcolm had given Naomi no reason to doubt or distrust him.

  “Yes, beautiful,” Malcolm said reassuringly. “Everything is fine,” he crooned. “It’s work. I was just handed this incredible case I need to get up to speed on.”

  Naomi wasn’t relieved that it was nothing between them.

  “And you feel like you can’t do that with me?”

  Although Naomi couldn’t see it, Malcolm smiled at the other end of the phone.

  “What do you propose, Ms. Singleton?”

  “Have you ever watched a movie when the professional couple, I mean friends, working together and eating junk food, drinking great wine and accomplishing everything they need to while still spending time together?”

  “I’ll bring the wine,” Malcolm smiled.

  “See you soon,” Naomi smiled in return.

  It didn’t take Malcolm long to adjust his schedule. He was more than willing to do so. He wanted to see Naomi. He felt a strong connection to her and missed Naomi when they were apart. The fact that it was her idea not to forego their date and to make alternate arrangements said to Malcolm, she liked him, too. She was interested. She wanted to spend time with him. That’s all he needed to affirm that they could be not only good together but great together. Malcolm wanted to be great with the right someone. Being successful was rewarding, but without someone special to share it with, success meant far less.

  Naomi was happy to see Malcolm when he arrived and rewarded him with a beautiful smile and a tight hug.

  “I’m glad to see you, too,” Malcolm crooned against her cheek as he held her a moment longer.

  “Let me help you with that,” Naomi suggested as she stepped back from him and reached for the wine bag in his hand. She was close enough to kiss, and he did, first brushing a sweet kiss to her forehead, then to the tip of her nose before finding Naomi’s pouty lips with surprising gentleness. The strum of Naomi’s heart in response to his touch melded her to Malcolm even more than she was ready to admit. When their lips parted, Malcolm didn’t drop his gaze from Naomi’s eyes. He saw more in her than he intended.

  He followed her into the house, appreciating her silhouette as she padded in front of him.

  “Where do you want to work,” Naomi asked. “We can work in the kitchen, dining room if you need a table to spread out, or in the family room if you want to be more comfortable.”

  “I’m open,” Malcolm replied, still watching Naomi as she moved around in the kitchen.

  “Okay then,” she replied, pausing to look in his direction, easing her hand up her hip and resting it at her waist. “Maybe table first? I need to spread out.”

  “That works for me,” Malcolm replied, resting his briefcase on the floor by the table. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “Not at the moment,” Naomi answered, pulling down two wine glasses and setting them on the kitchen island. She found the corkscrew for the wine and pulled out a tray and various cheeses and fresh fruits she prepared. Placing all the items on a silver tray she retrieved from a lower cabinet, Naomi meandered back into the dining room. Malcolm pulled out the bottle of wine he brought along. Naomi walked over to her desk in the family room and retrieved her computer and notes that she’d taken and transferred those items to the dining room table. Malcolm assisted Naomi with pulling out her chair and waiting until she was seated before taking the seat across from her. Naomi watched as Malcolm set up his makeshift workstation. He was meticulous in the way he arranged his folders next to his then opened computer. Before he started working, Malcolm laid out his legal pad and the pen he chose to write with. Naomi compared her work area to his, not so neatly organized, loose papers were strewn across her side of the table, notebooks sitting catawampus on top, and her pen stuck in her mass of curly hair. They couldn’t be more opposite.

  Before Malcolm started, he made sure the wine was poured. Naomi set out small appetizer plates and offered to fix Malcolm’s.

  “I’m good right now, babe,” he replied, already focusing on what it is he had to do.

  They worked in silence, parallel to one another. Naomi worked in her customarily disorganized fashion, and Malcolm worked linearly, moving from one item to the next.

  “So, tell me, Malcolm, what are you working so diligently on?” Naomi asked after a few hours of constant grinding.

  It took him a moment to answer as Malcolm worked through the brief on the case. But his eyes did trail up from the paperwork and land solidly on Naomi’s beautiful face. Focusing on her for just that split second was enough for Malcolm to put down what he was doing and answer her question.

  “Well, it’s a pretty intricate legal case.”

  “Why is that?” Naomi asked, genuinely interested.

  Malcolm rested his back on the spine of the chair before responding. “This woman killed her husband about five years ago.”

  Immediately, Naomi leaned forward in her seat and rested her elbows on the table, fully vested in whatever Malcolm was going to say next. He certainly had gotten her attention.

  “She was supposedly a victim of domestic violence, so of course the defense attorney pulled out the well-worn and very tired, battered woman’s defense and post-traumatic stress disorder because of the alleged prior victimization.”

  Malcolm was so busy telling the story, he hadn’t noticed the pitch in Naomi’s brow as he continued.

  “The mental illness story was shared on both sides of the aisle as viable defense and grounds for conviction. The problem with this scenario for the defendant is that she waited until after her husband was asleep to kill him. The overkill didn’t help her case, either.”

  “What do you mean overkill?” Naomi’s head was already reeling with the commentary regarding mental illness, but for the moment, she didn’t focus on that, waiting to hear everything Malcolm had to say before making any kind of comment of her own.

  “She didn’t just kill him,” Malcolm replied. “She beat him with a hammer to the point that facial recognition was impossible. The coroner had to use fingerprints to identify the victim.”

  “So, she was found guilty?” Naomi inquired.

  “She was.”

  “So, doesn’t that mean the case is over?”

  “It would have been considering the defendant was sentenced to life in prison with the possibility of parole, which I’m not sure I understand. Given the gravity of the offense and the premeditation she was charged with, the sentence should not have had parole as an option.”

  “However,” Naomi mused.

  “However, the jury or the judge or both must have bought into some part of the defense and decided to give leniency. She easily could have been charged with the death penalty, but again, the arguments offered in such a sensitive subject matter probably had some impact.”

  “Is the case being reopened?” Naomi loved crime dramas and true crime stories. It was one of her guilty pleasures when she had time to watch television.

  “In a way,” Malcolm replied, mim
icking Naomi’s posture by also resting his elbows on the table and leaning in.

  “The Legal Defense Fund has taken on this case for clemency.”

  “That’s specific to domestic violence cases, right?”

  “No, it’s not; however, domestic violence cases are the ones you hear about the most outside of clemency rendered by the sitting president.”

  “What’s your role in the case? Are you on her side? It sounds to me like her mental state was discounted, and she didn’t receive a fair trial.”

  It was the first time since the duo had been discussing the case that Naomi wagered her opinion.

  “Oh, no, beautiful,” Malcolm countered. “I am a prosecutor. It’s my job to make sure she stays right where she belongs, in prison behind bars for a very long time.”

  “Oh,” Naomi sighed, this time leaning away from Malcolm and folding her hands across themselves, resting them on the table. This time he noticed the significant change in her posture.

  “You’re surprised by my position?”

  “As a prosecutor, no,” Naomi replied. “I think you told me you were a prosecuting attorney. But I am surprised by your position?”

  “You mean the legal stance I’m taking in the case,” Malcolm attempted to clarify.

  “Yes,” Naomi commented. “I’m not sure how it works, but couldn’t you refuse to work on a case you didn’t agree with?”

  “Mmhmm,” Malcolm hummed. “If I didn’t agree.”

  When Naomi’s brow first pitched high on her forehead and immediately thereafter furrowed, Malcolm took note.

  “You agree that she should stay in jail, then,” Naomi observed.

  “I do.”

  The growing tension in the room became thick and palatable as the conversation continued.

  “Okay,” Naomi started doing her best to remain level in her speech and understanding in her thought. “Just so I understand, you think mental illness didn’t play a part in the murder and that it should be discounted. Is that right?”

 

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