The Billionaire's Gentle Rescue (The Sisterhood) by Elizabeth Lennox Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Lennox
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bag?”
He pulled the wine out and tore off the metal top. “Tell me what’s wrong first.”
She crossed her arms over her stomach and looked at the wine bottle, unable to hold his gaze. “Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think something is wrong?”
He chuckled and shook his head as he pulled down two wine glasses from her cabinet. Zoe wondered how he knew exactly where she kept them, but had to focus on him instead of letting her mind wander. He was in his “genius-mode” she thought. She’d seen it several times over the past few weeks when he was discussing business. There was just a look about him, an excitement to discover something that made his eyes a bit more intense. She’d thought it was a turn-on when he’d directed that look at someone else but now that he was sharpening that gaze in her direction, she was terrified.
“Why would you think something is wrong?”
Marco wasn’t sure if he wanted to shake her or kiss her until she was delirious. Maybe start with one and end with the other, he considered. Trying for patience, he handed her a glass of rich, red wine and waited until she’d sampled the excellent vintage before continuing. “Zoe, why are you afraid to trust me?” he asked softly.
Zoe’s eyes darted up to his, then quickly away. She wandered over to the sofa and sat down, pretending to enjoy the wine. “Marco, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m fully capable of handling the business.”
He studied her carefully, considering the best way to approach her so she wouldn’t be hurt. He took the chair opposite her and watched her features. “When I grew up, I used to watch my father carefully. I always knew when he was doing legitimate business or something a bit more nefarious because of his body language. He was a great poker player, but being on the sidelines and allowed to observe, I learned a great deal more than my father might have wanted me to know about. The most useful thing though, was to watch him interact with his deputies. They were all terrified of him, worried that if they messed up even in the smallest detail, my father would snuff them out.”
“He never did, did he?” she asked, fascinated despite her abhorrence for violence and criminals.
“Of course he did. Although I wasn’t sure how that order was conveyed, I knew the pecking order and when someone didn’t show up for a meeting, I knew that he’d been taken care of.”
“That’s horrible.”
“That’s the mafia. And I didn’t like it either.”
“So are you telling me that if I don’t get things straightened out, you’re going to snuff me?” she teased.
He smiled briefly, but shook his head. “No, I’m trying to point out that when someone in my organization is messing up, the worst thing she or he can do is hide it like my father’s deputies used to do. It’s never good and the problems only get worse. But if they come and ask for help, they always get it and I never think worse of them for it. In fact, I consider their request for help a sign that they’re actually maturing in their management skills since they know when to ask an expert.”
“Are you always the expert?”
He chuckled. “I’m usually the one in the meetings asking the questions. I hire the experts in their field and demand assistance when there’s a problem.”
“And you’re saying I need to ‘fess up and ask for help?”
“Exactly.”
She took a deep breath and the tears formed in her eyes. She blinked to keep them at bay but she wasn’t sure if she was successful. “I can’t keep up with the work that’s been coming in. I don’t have the personnel to accomplish all of the orders, we’re running on fumes now and we don’t have the time or personnel to find additional space. We’re so swamped with orders from all the publicity you’ve generated for us that we’re drowning in it and I’m falling behind on my normal
He pulled the wine out and tore off the metal top. “Tell me what’s wrong first.”
She crossed her arms over her stomach and looked at the wine bottle, unable to hold his gaze. “Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think something is wrong?”
He chuckled and shook his head as he pulled down two wine glasses from her cabinet. Zoe wondered how he knew exactly where she kept them, but had to focus on him instead of letting her mind wander. He was in his “genius-mode” she thought. She’d seen it several times over the past few weeks when he was discussing business. There was just a look about him, an excitement to discover something that made his eyes a bit more intense. She’d thought it was a turn-on when he’d directed that look at someone else but now that he was sharpening that gaze in her direction, she was terrified.
“Why would you think something is wrong?”
Marco wasn’t sure if he wanted to shake her or kiss her until she was delirious. Maybe start with one and end with the other, he considered. Trying for patience, he handed her a glass of rich, red wine and waited until she’d sampled the excellent vintage before continuing. “Zoe, why are you afraid to trust me?” he asked softly.
Zoe’s eyes darted up to his, then quickly away. She wandered over to the sofa and sat down, pretending to enjoy the wine. “Marco, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m fully capable of handling the business.”
He studied her carefully, considering the best way to approach her so she wouldn’t be hurt. He took the chair opposite her and watched her features. “When I grew up, I used to watch my father carefully. I always knew when he was doing legitimate business or something a bit more nefarious because of his body language. He was a great poker player, but being on the sidelines and allowed to observe, I learned a great deal more than my father might have wanted me to know about. The most useful thing though, was to watch him interact with his deputies. They were all terrified of him, worried that if they messed up even in the smallest detail, my father would snuff them out.”
“He never did, did he?” she asked, fascinated despite her abhorrence for violence and criminals.
“Of course he did. Although I wasn’t sure how that order was conveyed, I knew the pecking order and when someone didn’t show up for a meeting, I knew that he’d been taken care of.”
“That’s horrible.”
“That’s the mafia. And I didn’t like it either.”
“So are you telling me that if I don’t get things straightened out, you’re going to snuff me?” she teased.
He smiled briefly, but shook his head. “No, I’m trying to point out that when someone in my organization is messing up, the worst thing she or he can do is hide it like my father’s deputies used to do. It’s never good and the problems only get worse. But if they come and ask for help, they always get it and I never think worse of them for it. In fact, I consider their request for help a sign that they’re actually maturing in their management skills since they know when to ask an expert.”
“Are you always the expert?”
He chuckled. “I’m usually the one in the meetings asking the questions. I hire the experts in their field and demand assistance when there’s a problem.”
“And you’re saying I need to ‘fess up and ask for help?”
“Exactly.”
She took a deep breath and the tears formed in her eyes. She blinked to keep them at bay but she wasn’t sure if she was successful. “I can’t keep up with the work that’s been coming in. I don’t have the personnel to accomplish all of the orders, we’re running on fumes now and we don’t have the time or personnel to find additional space. We’re so swamped with orders from all the publicity you’ve generated for us that we’re drowning in it and I’m falling behind on my normal
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