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Rushmore face? He’s not supposed to flirt with any of the women he drives.”
    â€œFlirt? He looks like he wants to slit my throat.”
    Elena once again drew her hand over her mouth.
    â€œIt’s okay to laugh,” Maria said. “I’d be offended if you didn’t. This is some of my best stuff.”
    â€œYou
are
funny,” Elena said.
    When Maria was nervous she went into her stand-up comedy routine, and that morning she was in rare form. She didn’t want to appear to be anxious, but it couldn’t be helped. This was her first opportunity to prove herself to Snowden. Until now he’d treated her as nothing more than his go-to gal for grunt work, and she had not graduated Harvard Law for that. That wasn’t what her mom would want her doing either. Maria hoped her nerves would settle down while joking with Elena.
    An elevator took them to an upper floor and from there Elena led her to a pair of double doors made of intricately carved Spanish cedar.
    â€œMore ‘nice’?” Maria whispered.
    â€œYou haven’t seen anything yet,” Elena whispered back.
    When they slipped between the heavy doors, Maria saw Snowden rise to greet her, but she still had a minute to take in the room. Men occupied every chair around the massive horseshoe-shaped table. Thewalls were cream stucco, the floors hand-painted ceramic tile. One whole wall contained tinted windows overlooking Barcelona, while on the others were heavily framed portraits of what must have been Catalonia’s forefathers. One of them even wore a
conquistador
helmet. Maria had thoroughly researched the history of the company, but she didn’t recall it going back
that
far.
    â€œGood flight?” Snowden asked at her elbow.
    She knew he wouldn’t wait for any answer so she didn’t bother replying.
    â€œThey’re about to start,” he continued. “You’ll sit directly behind me, and remember, no recording. I told them you were trustworthy, so they won’t ask for your phone.”
    â€œWhat about Elena?”
    Snowden had a puzzled look.
    â€œMy assistant?” Maria added.
    â€œOh. Yeah . . .” Snowden gestured toward a row of chairs. “She can sit beside you.”
    He returned to his chair. Maria presumed the other chairs were occupied by the Catalonia board of directors and the representatives of Belgium Continental. All the men wore Armani-type suits and subdued ties. The air was heavy with the smell of men’s cologne.
    Maria and Elena followed Snowden and took their places in chairs along the wall behind him. They were barely settled when the double doors opened and a tall man entered the room—back straight and head held high, as if it were momentarily bereft of its crown. The only thing missing, Maria thought, was a trumpet fanfare to announce his entry.
    â€œEmilio Tejada,” Elena whispered.
    Yes. The CEO of Catalonia Financial. Maria had never seen a picture of him. She had imagined him as older, more sedate, lessinteresting. In reality he was handsome, though not outstandingly so. As he moved through the room, touching shoulders and shaking hands, it was apparent that his attractiveness came largely from his charm. He had the look of someone who remained cool even in the pit of summer when everyone else was bathed in his own sweat. Wavy, dark hair. Deep-set eyes. Maria watched him lean his head in closer to a few of the men around the table and nod solemnly, then break into a reassuring smile. There was nothing aloof about him, and yet it was clear he was a breed apart from everyone in the room.
    Elena slid a piece of paper onto Maria’s laptop.
Fascinating, isn’t he?
it read.
    Maria nodded.
Abuela
would be saying he was “quality” while nudging her in the rib with her elbow. The man wasn’t her type, but yeah—he was intriguing.
    Tejada took his place at the head of the table and Maria looked at the door,