The Billionaire's Gentle Rescue (The Sisterhood)

Chapter 1

Zoe Parker stared at the piece of paper detailing her company’s financials, closed her eyes for a moment while she took a deep, calming breath, and then opened her eyes so she could look one more time. Unfortunately, the numbers didn’t change! She took another deep breath and tried to calm down. Something had to be incorrect because this balance simply couldn’t be accurate.

That negative sign before the ending total surely couldn’t be right! There had to be a mistake, someone had calculated the amounts wrong or a number entered incorrectly.

With shaking fingers, she dialed her bank, not even patient enough to deal with an e-mail which she normally would have preferred to use. That negative balance at the bottom of the page was too terrifying to wait for an e-mail response.

When she finally reached a human being, Zoe gave the teller her account information and all the pertinent information. “Can you confirm my company’s bank balance?” she asked, almost whispering through the phone.

When the woman read off the amount, it was the exact same amount that was on her statement. “But how can that be?” she asked, trying to think and not let the panic overwhelm her. “The balance on last month’s statement was…” she rifled through the papers on her desk and came up with the prior month’s statement, “It was over one hundred thousand dollars,” she said, swallowing painfully.

“That’s correct ma’am, but there was a large payment made one week ago, a check submitted to a bank in the Cayman Islands.”

Zoe was already shaking her head. “No. That can’t be correct. There’s a mistake. I don’t do business with anyone in the Cayman Islands.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then some tapping on a keyboard. “I’m sending a scan of the check to you now.”

Zoe gripped the phone with one hand while she pulled her keyboard closer with the other, typing in the password to get to her e-mail account. “I see it,” she said and pressed the key that would open up the check. As she stared at it, she started shaking. “No, this isn’t possible. We don’t have any business with this vendor. I don’t understand.”

“There have been over a dozen other checks made to that account in the past ten months, ma’am,” the teller explained kindly. “Could this possibly be a matter that we need to bring the police in on?” she asked politely.

Zoe nodded her head, then realized that the teller couldn’t see her. “Yes. I believe this is definitely a matter for the police. I think there’s been a mistake. Let me call my accountant and I’ll get back to you.”

She hung up the phone and quickly dialed Andrew Miller’s private office, her fingers almost missing the numbers they were shaking so violently. The phone line didn’t pick up although she let it ring more than twenty times. She hung up the phone and jumped about a foot when someone knocked on her door.

“Look at this fabric!” her assistant Debbie said, bubbling over with excitement as she showed Zoe a bolt of butter yellow silk satin that seemed to change colors as Debbie moved it in the light. One moment it was buttercup yellow, the next it was a shimmering peacock green. “Isn’t it amazing?”

Any other time, Zoe would have instantly moved from her desk to her drawing board, coming up with several dress designs that would suit fabric so stunning. But right at the moment, there was no creative inspiration, no designs zinging through her mind and no price point on which to sell the final design. There was nothing but a paralyzing fear of what the future of her clothing design company might be if she didn’t find her accountant and get this mess straightened out with the bank.

“It’s lovely,” Zoe replied with as much enthusiasm as she could muster under the circumstances.

Unfortunately, Debbie wasn’t fooled. “What’s wrong?” she asked, placing the bolt of fabric onto the table. “Did Justin break it off like you were expecting?”

Zoe had completely forgotten about her wayward boyfriend who had missed the last few dates they had set up. This morning, Zoe had been pretty blasé about the whole thing, not hurt at all by Justin’s defection. In fact, she’d actually been relieved because she knew she wasn’t interested in Justin although she’d tried very hard this time around to show more interest. Her friends had been teasing her about her lack of romance, and all because she refused to settle for lukewarm ardor from a man. She’d experienced intense passion once, although it was a long, long time ago. They all told her that mind blowing, finger zinging passion didn’t truly exist, except in her imagination and she needed to be more realistic and give men more of a chance.

Zoe had tried, but she just couldn’t settle. She’d never been one to settle in her life, which was why she’d been able to create her own company, manufacturing her own designs every quarter with seven percent annual growth over the past four years. She’d never settled romantically either, although she’d dated some genuine losers over the years trying to recreate that passion she’d experience once.

“Justin wasn’t one of those liars or cheats you’ve dated in the past,” Debbie was saying. “He was the genuine article. He was one of those nice, sweet, dependable guys a woman can count on and settle down with. You even ran a background check on him, nothing came up. So what was the problem?”

Zoe shook her head, her long, brown hair falling about her shoulders over the long sleeved red sheath dress she’d worn today, reminding her that she was supposed to meet Justin for lunch. “Justin and I didn’t break up,” she said. “But I have something urgent to do.” Her mind worked frantically to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t throw her friend and assistant into the same panic Zoe was currently fighting. “The fabrics for the spring line are held up so I need to find another supplier,” she lied, coming up with the first thing she could think of. She hated lying to Debbie who had been with her since the beginning, hanging on during the troubled times with late nights, no sleep, pricked fingers, crazy vendors, clients and employees as well as lots of tears and laughter. Zoe couldn’t tell her friend that the business might be bankrupt. Not right now anyway.

“Ugh!” Debbie replied, rolling her eyes. “If that supplier didn’t have the best fabric designs, I’d tell you to find someone else. But they really are spectacular,” she said and backed out of the office. “I’ll leave that with you anyway,” indicating the iridescent yellow fabric. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with for that color,” she said and closed the door once again.

As soon as she was alone again, Zoe’s office was once again thrown into stunned, horrified silence. The work room beyond her office filled with more than fifty staff members were all laughing and chatting as they worked hard to finish the orders for the current fall line which was due to be mailed by Friday. Since it was Wednesday already, they had only two days left. Thankfully, this crew was loyal and dedicated and the previous pattern of crazy time crunch and late nights in order to meet the supply order deadlines wasn’t going to happen this quarter.

Zoe picked up the phone once again and called her accountant’s home phone number. She almost started crying when the mechanical voice told her that the phone had been disconnected.

Grabbing her purse, she raced out of the office, waving to anyone who called out to her. Normally, she would stop and answer questions but today, the crisis was just too ghastly.

In her car, she sped out of the parking lot behind her building, slipping sunglasses on as she exited from the alley into the bright sunshine. This couldn’t be happening, she thought, trying to remain as calm as possible. There was too much money involved, too many lives that would be impacted if her suspicions were correct.

Three hours later, her whole body ached. She let herself into her loft apartment, slipped her feet out of her shoes, and then curled up on the multi colored sofa. The loft was basically the only thing she had left. She had no money to make payroll, which was due in five days. Apparently, she hadn’t been paying her suppliers for the past three months and there was no trace of her accountant. His office was even cleared out, not even a desk was left and the trash had been taken out. Not a scrap of paper or furniture anywhere in the suite where he’d previously had several assistants working diligently. His house out in the suburbs was empty with a “Sold” sign in the front yard. There wasn’t even a newspaper in the driveway, so thoroughly had the place been cleaned out and shut down.

Apparently her accountant had been planning this for months, stocking up the money she’d entrusted to him to pay her bills and make her payroll. He’d wiped her out. She had some money in her private account, but that was only enough to cover her personal bills each month. She didn’t take a salary, putting everything back into her business so even that amount would run dry very soon.

She’d been trying desperately hard to come up with explanations for the lack of funding, but when she’d found Andrew’s home empty, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer. She’d been robbed. Her accountant had embezzled all her money and she had nothing left. Nothing but her clothes.

She’d gone to the police and filed a report, but their initial search had shown that Andrew had already left the country, his passport number showing him leaving the Unites States through the Miami Airport yesterday afternoon, heading to Grand Cayman. There wasn’t anything she could do from that end, but they would pursue some leads and check with his other clients to see if they had also been robbed.

It didn’t matter that she was the victim of a crime and that the police were now involved to try and help, she’d still lose her company, the people who were relying on her for their livelihoods would be distraught as well because they wouldn’t be able to meet their mortgage payments or put food on their tables for their families. The man had stolen millions of dollars from her over the past few years. And what was worse, she’d given him the ability to do it. The responsibility was all on her shoulders.

She’d failed. She’d failed her entire staff and she had no idea how to tell them.

The tears were falling freely now that she was alone. Her loft was silent except for the light sounds of traffic outside her windows. A part of her mind told her she should make herself something for dinner, but she simply couldn’t get up off the sofa, despite the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything since her cup of coffee this morning.

The knock on the door made her jump, but she didn’t get up. She simply stared at the wall, praying that whoever was knocking would simply assume she was not here and go away.

“Zoe! I know you’re in there and I know something is horribly wrong,” Debbie called out through the metal door. “I’m not leaving until we talk.”

Zoe smiled through the tears rushing down her cheeks, blinking to try and get control over her emotions. She sat up and looked in the mirror over her fireplace. Her cheeks were pink and eyes red, but she would have to come up with something to tell Debbie, but not the truth. Not yet. Zoe wasn’t ready for everyone to know how horribly she’d failed.

As she padded barefoot over to the door, she took several deep breaths, hoping the extra oxygen would even out her skin tone and hide the effects of the second worse day in her life. Possibly the worst, she thought sarcastically because the day wasn’t over yet.

Pasting a bright smile on her face, she pulled the metal door open. “What’s up Debbie?” she asked.

Debbie stood in the hallway, her eyes taking in all the details of her friend’s face. After several moments, she shook her head and pushed her way into the apartment. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

Zoe sighed and closed the door, following Debbie in her purple and black dress that would be overwhelming on someone with less of a personality. But Debbie could pull it off somehow. On Debbie, drama seemed…right. Ignoring Debbie’s fashion choices, Zoe sighed and crossed her arms over her stomach, hoping to hide the worst of the trauma. “Oh, just a tough day.”

“Was it man problems like I guessed earlier this morning?”

Zoe pounced on that excuse, not wanting to panic her friend just yet. “Yes. Justin didn’t show up for lunch again today. I’m going to dump him. It wasn’t working out anyway.”

Debbie moved over to the kitchen, tossing her purple ruffled shawl over one of the painted wooden bar stools, this one orange which clashed even more with her deep purple shawl. With a thunk, she placed the canvas bag onto the counter which was actually a recycled old barn door, the rough wood sanded down and coated with a polyurethane coating to prevent splinters. “Justin called from the restaurant wondering where you were. He was worried about you.”