The Billionaire's Gentle Rescue (The Sisterhood) (2 page)

With that little bombshell dropped, Debbie pulled out two bottles of red wine and watched Zoe’s expression. When the tears started, she pulled out two pints of ice cream, one cherry vanilla, the other chunky monkey. “Is there something wrong with your mom?” she asked.

Zoe sighed, her shoulders slumping in as the totality of her failure overwhelmed her. “I wasn’t lying about the men problems.”

“I’m guessing that some guy did something horrible to you. Since you’re still dressed, it wasn’t a rape. Since you’re in bare feet and not your slippers, it has to be monumental. And since you’re not downstairs working with the others to make the fall delivery deadline, it has to have something to do with the company. So spill the beans. What is it?”

Zoe laughed through her tears and shook her head, somehow comforted that her friend and co-worker knew her so well. “Are you going to keep pulling things out of that bag?”

Debbie nodded. “Depending on how bad it is, I have something for each problem. So spill it, darling. Did someone die?”

Zoe gasped and shook her head. “No! Nothing like that.”

“Then you won’t need the chocolates,” Debbie replied, taking her hand out of her canvas bag.

Zoe laughed and ran over to her friend, throwing her arms around her shoulders and giving her a bear hug. “Oh, Debbie, what would I have done all these years without you by my side to help me through all this insanity?”

“You probably would be one dress size smaller than you are now, because I’m the one who thinks all problems can be solved, or at least ignored for a little while, by eating. Since you’re already a skinny little creative genius, I don’t care that I’ve fattened you up a bit. So what’s going on?” she asked, pulling open a cabinet and getting two wine glasses, then sliding open a drawer for the spoons, pushing the cherry vanilla to Zoe and taking the chunky monkey for herself while she slid onto the hunter green bar stool beside Zoe. “Tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll get through this just like we have all the other crises in the past four years.”

Zoe laughed, but that only made her crying worse. “You’d better hand me the chocolates,” she said, using the napkin Debbie handed her to wipe her tears away. “Or maybe you shouldn’t. When you hear what has happened, you’ll hate me and I’ll deserve all your animosity because I’ve messed up supremely bad.”

“That bad, huh?” she asked, then slid the box of expensive chocolates across the counter. Pouring the wine, she said, “You’d better spill it because my mind might not be as imaginative as yours, but it’s coming up with some pretty awful things right now.”

Zoe took a long sip of the wine, unable to appreciate the heady taste of the excellent brand Debbie had brought. She then set her glass down, took a deep breath and looked away from her friend as she said, “Andrew stole all the money from the company. I have nothing to pay the teams, no way to pay the current set of suppliers, and he hasn’t paid them for the past three months. The police have a report filed on him, but apparently he’s already off on some extravagant, and I’m guessing long term vacation in the Caribbean and as soon as the creditors find out about all this, they’re going to demand payment, of which I have no way to make. That means that our clients will also back out because we won’t be able to function on credit, nor will we be able to set up for the spring collection.”

After she finished saying all that, she took another long sip of wine, set the glass down and waited in silence as Debbie absorbed everything Zoe had just told her.

When the silence continued, Zoe couldn’t take it any longer. With trepidation, she looked over at her friend, her heart breaking as she saw the stunned look of horror on her face. “My sentiments exactly,” she said, and the tears started once more.

Zoe turned away and took another long sip of wine, draining her wine glass, then lifted the bottle and poured more. Zoe couldn’t look at her friend, but the empty wine glass that appeared next to her newly filled one told her how much her news had impacted Debbie. Without a word, Zoe filled Debbie’s wine glass as well.

“This calls for Sinatra,” Debbie said and took her glass of wine over to Zoe’s book shelves. They were the cheap kind, made of pine with only the supports and the shelves, but they worked in Zoe’s loft, fitting in with all the other eclectic pieces and colors. Debbie turned on the old fashioned stereo and put on a Sinatra record, swaying to the static filled music as she walked back to Zoe.

Putting her arms around her friend, Debbie took a deep breath. “We’ve been through some tough times before. This won’t bring down the company. You’ve worked too hard to let it die now.”

Debbie’s absolute show of confidence and support broke all of Zoe’s control. Her shoulders slumped and her head fell down, resting on her arms as she let the sobs break through. Debbie just stood there, holding Zoe as they both cried out the pain and disappointment over the day’s revelations.

When Zoe was able to take a deep breath, Debbie pulled her over to the sofa. “Come on, let’s talk this through. We have to figure out what to do about this. There’s a solution somewhere.”

Zoe took a deep breath and followed her friend, holding the ice cream and spoon close with one hand and the glass of wine and wine bottle in the other.

Debbie sat down and both of them propped their feet up on the coffee table, took a large scoop of ice cream, drank a long sip of wine and each ate a piece of decadent chocolate.

With all the essentials covered for the moment, Zoe asked, “How big is Grand Cayman?”

“I don’t know,” Debbie replied, her mouth full of ice cream. “Is that where this bastard is hiding out?”

“According to his passport papers, he is.”

“I don’t know how large it is, but it can’t be larger than one of the states and we drive across that just for a weekend getaway. We could just fly down there and find the little weasel and demand our money back.”

“There’s a problem with that idea,” Zoe said, downing half her glass of wine.

Debbie took another bite of ice cream. “What’s that? Sounds simple enough to me.”

“I don’t have any money to get there.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

Zoe laughed. “You don’t have any money either. Remember? I can’t pay you.”

“Bob still has his job. He’ll pay,” she said, referring to her husband of ten years.

“He can’t pay for anything because you can’t reach him most of the time. He’s working for that guy you call ‘The Evil One’, the guy that makes him work twenty hour days, remember?”

“Hmm…I remember,” Debbie replied, filling her mouth with ice cream. “Okay, what’s your idea?”

Zoe thought for a long moment. “Maybe we could build a boat to get down there. We could cut up all the cutting tables downstairs.”

“And use the fabrics for a sail since we can’t afford gasoline.” ‘

“There you go!” Zoe laughed, her toes tapping to the sounds of Sinatra as he belted out ‘New York, New York’.

“See? There’s a solution to every problem!” Debbie announced, re-filling both of their glasses.

The two of them finished off the ice cream, the second bottle of wine and most of the chocolates by midnight, laughing hysterically at some of the ideas they were coming up with. Zoe was still miserable, but after two bottles of wine, she wasn’t really acknowledging the pain any longer.

“Whose phone is that?” Zoe asked, squinting at her watch as she tried to figure out what time it was. “And why would anyone be calling at this time of the night?” She hiccupped as she worked at deciphering the time, “Or morning,” she said when she finally realized it was close to one in the morning.

“Ah, that must be my phone, indicating that my darling husband has finally come home and realized that his loving and ever sweet wife is not there pining away for him.”

Zoe groaned. “I can’t believe how many hours that man works.”

Debbie struggled to sit up and find her purse, which had been nudged under the sofa during one of their forays into the kitchen for another bottle of wine. “I get to see him some weekends,” she joked as she pulled the phone out from her purse, still lying on the floor as she answered sweetly, “Helloooo!”

Zoe thought about laughing, but was too afraid it would come out as a sob so she just took another sip of wine.

“Of course you are! Why would anything be different?” she said with a groan. “So what time are you going to pick me up at Zoe’s place?” she asked.

Zoe raised one eyebrow, frowning at the fact that her friend’s husband was obviously still at work.

“An hour?” Debbie glanced at the bottle of wine, seeing that it was still half full. “That should work,” she replied happily. “Don’t you dare be late!” And she hung up the phone.

“Okay, we have about two more hours to down this one, finish the next and come up with some sort of solution to this pickle.”

Zoe giggled at the idea of her business going bankrupt, her employees being furious and possibly losing their houses or not being able to feed their families as a “pickle”. This was so much more, but she couldn’t think about that right now. More wine would fix that, she told herself and filled up both their glasses one more time.

They continued to laugh and talk, coming up with even more outrageous ideas as they finished off the rest of the wine. When the doorbell rang, Debbie was the only one able to get up and make her way to the doorway. Zoe thought about it, but her legs just wouldn’t hold her up, so she sank to the floor by the sofa and tipped up her wineglass, frustrated when she came up empty.

“Ah, my loving husband, come to take me home,” Debbie said from the doorway. Zoe closed her eyes and chuckled.

“No making fun of him,” Zoe called out. “He’s not sitting on the floor after….” She squinted at the coffee table trying to count the empty bottles of wine, “several” she compromised, “bottles of wine.”

“Very true,” a deep voice said from her left. Zoe turned her head and squinted up.

“You!” She struggled to sit up so she didn’t look so foolish, but only fell more to the side, almost flat on the floor as her mind saw the man who had ruined her for so many other men over the years. Sighing, she closed her eyes. “You’re just a figment of my overactive imagination,” she said and pulled an orange pillow off her sofa to cushion her head from the wooden floor. “Go away, I don’t believe that it’s really you.” Then her eyes popped open as a terrible thought occurred to her. “You’re not Debbie’s husband, are you?” she gasped.

The tall, extremely rugged man bent down to look into her eyes. “You know exactly who I am, Zoe,” he replied, his amused expression surveying her red dress and bare legs. “Even drunk and flat on your back, you look just as beautiful now as you did all those years ago.”

Zoe waved him aside, ignoring his compliment. “Go away. You’re not needed here. You’ve caused enough havoc in my life and I won’t allow you to do anymore damage.”

“What havoc and damage have I caused you?” he asked, turning to Debbie’s husband and waving to let him know that he would take over from here. “Thanks for the tip Jeff. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow to discuss the details.”

Zoe shook her head, then reached up with both hands to stop her spinning head. “That wasn’t a good move,” she groaned. She peeked out of her squinted eyes and looked up. “Why are you still here? I told you to leave.”

“I’m here to help.”

Zoe laughed. “Help? Do you know what you did to me?”

Marco DiAngelo looked down at the gorgeous, sexy woman in red who was lying on the floor, her long, shapely legs demurely crossed at the angles despite the inebriated state he knew her to be in. “What happened here?” he asked, sitting down in the plum colored chair facing the multi-colored sofa. The colors shouldn’t go together, but somehow, the whole loft filled with crazy colors and odd shapes, items used in unusual ways like the tea pots re-cycled as pendant lights or the tea cups in the chandelier. It was beyond eclectic, but he liked it.

“Tell me what I did to you,” he encouraged, wanting to know what she was thinking. Zoe Anderson was more beautiful now than she’d been when she was eighteen years old. She’d fulfilled every promise of brains and beauty he’d thought back then and now, confronted with her like this, he would take every advantage he could to understand this woman.

“You know exactly what you did. And all the guys I’ve dated since then have suffered.”

“What, exactly, did I do?”

Zoe yawned widely, and snuggled down into the pillow more. “You know. And I hate you for it. But it doesn’t matter now. I’m ruined so you’ve had your ultimate revenge.”

“What’s my ultimate revenge?”

“You know. Please leave so I can….” She didn’t finish that thought, but instead fell asleep, curled up on the floor as if a bed were superfluous and the hard, wood floor was perfect. The wine and sugar combining finally to knock her out, temporarily easing her mind from her desperate situation.

Marco watched as this tiny little woman snuggled down onto what must be a painfully uncomfortable floor. Glancing at the number of empty wine bottles on the coffee table, he suspected that she was out for the night. He glanced at his watch and corrected himself, she was probably out for the next day.