The Billionaire's Gentle Rescue (The Sisterhood) (5 page)

Heading back to her loft, she went up the back way so she wouldn’t have to go through the showroom. She’d already sent an e-mail to Debbie asking her to keep things going while she visited the bank. Debbie would have no idea that she was back already.

As soon as she was back in her safe sanctuary, she pulled off the black suit, hanging it in the farthest part of her wardrobe so she wouldn’t be reminded of how humiliating her morning had been.

Pulling on her jeans and sweater once again, she paced back and forth in her loft, wracking her brain, trying to come up with a solution. Surely she had a long lost aunt who was on the point of dying and was about to leave her a huge inheritance, didn’t she?

But her mother had been an only child, her mother was on a fixed income, and even came to Zoe occasionally for financial help.

Slumping into the sofa, she put her head into her hands, her fingers itching to find that horrible man who had done this to her and….and….well, she wasn’t sure what she would do to him, but it would be really, really bad!

By five o’clock, she watched her staff of seamstresses, warehouse workers, assistants, cutters and various other personnel file out of the work room, joking, laughing and completely oblivious to the fact that if she didn’t find some way out of this, they would all have their own nightmares to deal with once they found out they didn’t have a job.

All because she’d failed by ignoring the side of her company she’d hated. Financials had always been a mystery to her, and sticking her head in the sand had definitely not been the right approach.

The phone ringing made her jump and she stared at her cell phone as the face swung in various colors announcing that the caller was unknown.

With dread, assuming it was one of her creditors, she answered it with a cheerful voice as if nothing was actually wrong. “Hello?”

“You’ve only been to one bank.”

Marco. How had he known she’d been to the bank today? And how did he know that she’d been to only one? “How do you know that?” she asked and slumped back onto her sofa.

“I have my sources,” was all he would say. “Meet me for dinner tonight at Ricardo’s. We’ll talk.”

Zoe knew of the famous Italian restaurant but was already shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I have other resources I haven’t tapped into yet.”

She heard the amused sigh. “So you’re still in denial. Is that just when you’re speaking with me? Or are you also denying it to yourself?”

Zoe couldn’t lie anymore. What was the point. “I’m only lying to you. I have no idea what to do or where to go to get my company out of this mess.”

“So you’ll meet me at Ricardo’s at seven.”

She hesitated for a long moment before finally giving in. “Yes. I’ll be there.”

“Good. Wear the dress I put out this morning. I’m sure you’ll look incredible.”

And then he hung up. No goodbye, no other sort of closing conversation or giving her a chance to argue or counter his command.

She stared at her phone, wishing she could call him back up and tell him to go to hell, but she couldn’t. He was her only lifeline and she had to get through this.

Moving slowly up the stairs, for the second time today, she examined her clothing options. Immediately discarding the idea of wearing the dress he’d chosen that morning, she sifted through her other dresses. She loved clothes, obviously, and had several possibilities. All of them were part of her new line that was already out in stores. Choosing a green, wool dress with a deep V that hugged her upper body, then flared out at her hips, she smiled at her silly rebellion. The man was helping her, the least she could do was wear the dress he’d requested. But something inside her wanted to assert some sort of control over her life, and choosing this green dress, with a necklace of dramatic green and black glass beads and killer black heels, made her feel strong and powerful.

She’d wanted to be late for dinner, wishing she could arrive after the designated seven o’clock. But traffic was too light that evening and the taxi was pulling up at the door to Ricardo’s immediately on time.

Amazingly, Marco stepped out of the restaurant and paid the cab driver for her. As the restaurant’s doorman opened her door, she took a moment to steady herself, and observe Marco in his elegant black suit with a snowy white shirt and red silk tie. He looked amazing, she thought and couldn’t have chosen a suit to fit him any better than what he was wearing. Interestingly, the cut of the suit actually diminished the breadth of his shoulders but the white of his shirt showed off his dark, tanned skin.

As he turned, his eyes took in her black trench coat and black shoes, all he could see at the moment. With a slight smile on his handsome face, he walked up to her, looking down into her rebellious eyes. “From the color of your shoes, I’m guessing you’re not wearing that gorgeous dress, are you?”

“No. I chose something that I like though.”

He chuckled, the deep sound making her skin tingle and her heart rate pick up slightly. “I’m guessing I’ll like it just as much,” he said and signaled to the doorman. Putting a hand on her elbow, he led her through the doors. His hands rested on her shoulders as she nervously opened the belt of her trench coat.

Zoe knew a moment’s trepidation as she realized what she’d done. This dress was soft and comfortable, making her feel very feminine and powerful. But she’d made a strategic error in wearing it to dinner with Marco. The dress accentuated her breasts and tiny waist, hiding nothing from his knowing eyes while the V of the dress revealed the sides of each of her breasts. As he stood behind her, waiting for her to release the belt so he could hand the coat to the hostess, she shivered, knowing that he was in a great position to understand the perfect cut of the dress.

There was nothing to do but release the coat. It was too late to rush back to her loft and change into something more demure, she told herself.

With shaking fingers, she untied the belt, then shrugged the coat off, trying to turn away so he didn’t have a direct view of her dress.

She should have known better though. Marco had always been too smart and too knowledgeable and as soon as the coat came off, his gaze rested on her breasts. Handing the coat to the hostess without taking his gaze away from the green dress, he nodded. “I bow to your superior knowledge of fashion.”

Thankfully, the hostess announced that their table was ready and led them out of the smaller area of the coat check lobby. Zoe moved quickly to follow the hostess, putting as much distance between Marco and herself as possible.

Their table was in the back of the restaurant where they would have privacy for their discussion. Marco moved to hold out her chair and Zoe nervously took the seat. As he sat down across from her, he ordered a bottle of wine, a name she’d never heard of but was sure probably cost more than one of her dresses.

When they were alone again, Zoe nervously studied the menu, praying that something would happen to ease the tension. Couldn’t some kitchen calamity occur that would distract the whole restaurant? Maybe a waiter could drop a meal on someone’s head?

No such luck, she sighed and glanced up, not sure what was on the menu even though she’d been looking at it for the past five minutes.

As soon as she looked up, she saw that Marco had been waiting for just that to happen. He’d simply been sitting across from her, waiting patiently, a slight smile on his lips as he watched her across the linen covered table. “You look beautiful,” was all he said initially.

For some reason, his gaze and his husky words made her stomach flip flop, and a blush crept up her neck and cheeks. She hoped that the dark, candle lit restaurant would cover that reaction, but his soft chuckle told her otherwise. “I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable. It was a sincere compliment. You’re more beautiful now than you were when I saw you the last time.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I read about you on the internet this morning after you left. You’ve done well for yourself.”

“So have you.”

She grimaced. “All evidence to the contrary.”

“Well, your designs are across the country now, aren’t they? You have some pretty important clients and they all speak well of you.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “You’ve been talking to my clients?” she asked, angry for the invasion. “Why?”

“Of course I spoke to your clients. And your vendors and many others. If I’m going to invest in your company, I wanted to know what I was getting into.”

She didn’t like his attitude and thought to take him down a notch. “Who says I’m going to allow you to invest in my company?”

He leaned forward and smiled. “Then that means tonight is all about being with me and not your company. I’m flattered.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Then what’s tonight about? If it’s not about you and me and this attraction that’s obviously flaring between us, and it’s not about your company that’s about to be destroyed, then I’m very confused.”

She bristled at his words. “There’s no attraction between us. At least not from my side. That died when I was a kid.”

He laughed once again but shook his head. “We’ll see about that later. Let’s discuss your company first.”

She was grateful when the wine steward arrived and made a show of pouring the wine for Marco’s approval, which he gave of course. At Zoe’s first sip, she knew that this was an extraordinary glass of wine. Unfortunately, she was too nervous to enjoy it.

“So, what did the bank say when you spoke to them earlier today?” he asked when the steward had left.

Zoe set her glass down on the table carefully, afraid her suddenly shaking fingers would knock it over inadvertently. “Um…well…they said, that…” she swallowed painfully through the embarrassment.

“Let me guess. Not only did they deny your loan application, but they told you that you owed them several thousands more in fees. Am I correct?”

Zoe nodded, looking down at the table.

“You’re not going to pay those fees. The bank is only trying to scare you and gouge you for whatever fees they can make up now that they think your ship is sinking. Those fees are bogus and once you close your accounts, they won’t have any right to charge you for them. I think most of them might even be illegal. Close your accounts with them tomorrow morning and go to this bank. Open up three accounts. One for payroll, one for your inventory and another for reserve.”

He handed her the card with the name of the bank he’d mentioned on the back. “Speak to a man named George Montgomery. He’ll steer you in the right direction.”

She fiddled with the card, unsure of how to explain the dire situation she was in. “That would be wonderful, and I sincerely appreciate the tip, but unfortunately….” She tried to say the words but they wouldn’t come.

“You don’t have any money to deposit?” he suggested gently.

She nodded again, ashamed.

“That’s where I come in. I’m planning to invest this amount,” he said and took the card once again and wrote down an amount that made Zoe’s eyes widen in alarm. “Once you have the account numbers, come to my office and give them to me. I’ll have this amount transferred into your accounts so you can meet your obligations. Make sure to tell George which bank you’re transferring your accounts from, and a list of all your creditors. He’ll contact those vendors and give them the new information.”

The waiter arrived to take their order and Zoe was grateful for the reprieve. Her mind was spinning with the amount Marco wanted to invest. It was more than twice what she suspected she owed and she had to honest with him about that. She didn’t need that much cash, and she had to warn him.

“What are you going to eat?” he asked, his eyes swiftly moving across the menu.

Zoe had no idea what she was going to order but she picked it up once again and scanned the contents. Settling on a salad, figuring that would be the easiest for her to sift through since she didn’t think she’d be able to eat anything anyway because of her nervousness.

She mentioned the first salad her eyes were able to focus on, then closed her menu.

Marco shook his head. “She’ll also have Risotto ala polpa di granchio, carciofi con pancetta and for dessert we’ll have panna cotta.” He put in his own order which sounded just as foreign as what he ordered for her and the waiter left, bowing slightly with his approval.

Zoe sat back and shook her head. “What exactly did you order for me?” she asked, impressed with his Italian despite herself.

He shrugged and picked up his wine. “Crab risotto, artichokes with pancetta and a cream dessert, which I think you’ll like.”

She smiled slightly. “How do you know I like crab and artichokes?” she asked. She actually loved both of them, but wasn’t going to tell him.

“You just seem like the type.”

Her eyes widened at that response. “I’m a type now?”

“You’re changing the subject. And yes, everyone is a type.”

“I disagree.”

“With what? That you’re changing the subject or that everyone has a type?”