"The hell it isn't. Whatever else she is, she's my mother. I've known her longer than you have. She used to be a kind, loving person who would stay up with me for hours when I got sick. The first time someone broke my heart, she was the only one who gave a damn and tried to make it better. Granted, she may not be that person anymore, but she used to be, and I'm sure as hell am not about to forget it. I need you to take me back to shore now."
"Zoey, it's already been filed … "
"Stelios! Please, just take me back."
"All right, Zoey," he sighed.
The yacht sailed through the darkling waters, reaching the gangplank in just a few minutes. The two descended to the boardwalk, where Zoey moved hurriedly towards the waiting town car.
"Zoey … " Stelios tried again, a tinge of desperation in his voice.
"Stelios, you're an amazing man," Zoey said, rounding on him. "But if you're going to sue my mother, we cannot be together. Deep down, she's not a bad person. My dad screwed her over. He cheated on her, took the money, and ran. It's made her very cynical about love, and pretty much everything else, and sometimes, sometimes that makes her act like a bitch. But at the end of the day, she's my mother, and if you're going to destroy her livelihood, I can't stand by you."
So saying, Zoey walked to the town car in silence, and had Fulton take her back to Brooklyn.
Stelios didn't utter a word of protest. He simply stared after her as if he had been turned to stone. A confused expression clouded his features, and after a minute or so, he shook his head slowly. Feeling heavier than he ever had in his life, he trudged back up the gangway and back on board the yacht.
ELEVEN
The trip back to Brooklyn was painful and silent. If Fulton had an opinion on the matter, he didn't dare to voice it. Zoey sat sullenly, wondering to herself why something always had to go wrong. It had been a romantic yacht ride and an amazing sunset. All told, up to that point, it had been one of the best days of her life. And then Stelios had gone and ruined it.
Zoey didn't know how he could be so callous. Stelios commanded some of the world's most expensive lawyers. Just trying to mount a legitimate defense against them would gouge Melinda Forde's resources beyond recognition. There was no way Melinda could compete and he had to know that.
So why was he trying to wipe her out? It wasn't for the money. He didn't need it. If he was just trying to make a point about using his image without his permission, there had to be better ways. There had to be something else. Anything would be better than systematically pulling apart everything her mother had struggled to build.
When she reached her apartment, her thoughts were still roiling, and she tried to stamp them down by concentrating on other things that urgently needed to get done. She struggled to focus on yet more job applications, distracted by thoughts that, by the time Stelios was done with her, her mother might be forced to move in with her. Zoey doubted that they would get along at first, or at all, but ultimately Zoey knew she had no choice in the matter. She knew the wonderful woman she had described to Stelios was still somewhere within her mother, and for her sake, Zoey could never turn Melinda away.
When trying to save her family from poverty became tedious, Zoey decided to make a plan for the next day. Obviously, she would have to talk to her mother, and get her to realize that her relationship with Stelios was genuine. Hopefully that, and the threat of a lawsuit, would make her see the necessity of removing the billboards and ending the ad campaign. She was hoping that if she could get her mother to do that, it would be enough to appease the Greek billionaire and prevent him from suing. It was the best plan she could think of, and she was certain it would work if only her mother wouldn't be so stubborn.
She could already hear her mother refusing to give in. She had done that once before in divorce court because she just wanted the nightmare to be over. The man she had loved more than anything had just torn her heart out and all she had wanted was for the pain to come to an end. So she'd signed away many of the assets she'd been entitled to and walked away from the proceedings with a pittance. She always told Zoey she had regretted not fighting tooth and nail for what was rightfully hers, and Zoey was deathly afraid her mother was going to try to make up for the error now.
Zoey struggled with plans and counter plans as the hours passed like molasses in January. By ten thirty, she was trawling the internet for free legal advice. By eleven, she had a list of lawyers with good track records and relatively affordable prices. By midnight, she was seeking out apartments that would comfortably house two people at a lower rent than she was paying. An hour later, she keeled over from sheer exhaustion and went to sleep on her living room floor.
TWELVE
Zoey had been so agitated when she had returned home that she had never bothered to take off the clothes she was wearing. So when the first rays of sunlight came through the apartment's windows and rested uncomfortably on her eyes, it took her a while to remember how she had ended up on the floor, in her business suit, and next to her computer. Her head ached like she'd been drinking all night, but she pushed herself to her feet and headed for her bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom, looking and feeling a bit more human. She went to her closet and got into the first dress she saw. Every cell in her body protested at being made to work, but with dogged determination, Zoey pressed on. She was on a mission to save her mother from herself, and no matter how tired she felt, she knew that time was of the essence.
There wasn't time for her to make breakfast, so she grabbed a banana from the fruit basket and ran out of the door. It was gone by the time she reached the subway, barely helping the rumbling in her stomach.
The subway was just as crowded as usual, but the kid she had met twice before was on the train again. Somehow, she had managed to keep the seat beside him empty, and Zoey eased into it gratefully.
"What's your name?" she asked the little girl who kept appearing out of nowhere like a hero in a Western.
"Alex," she replied easily. "Nice to meet you."
She offered her hand, and Zoey shook it, wondering at the precocious child.
"You seem to be here a lot, Alex. Are you on your way to school?"
"Yeah," she replied. "My dad's driving me."
It took Zoey a second to realize the kid meant that her father was currently driving the train. The novelty of that idea distracted her for a moment before the weight of the lawsuit came crashing into her mind again.
As soon as it did, she took out her smartphone and went to her favorite local news site. Sure enough, there was a report on Stelios' actions that laid things out in grim detail.
"Billionaire real estate mogul Stelios Zakiridis is suing Melinda Forde, founder and CEO of Melinda Forde Singles, a high-end relationship services agency, for using his likeness in promotions without authorization. According to sources close to the matter, Mr. Zakiridis is claiming close to ten million dollars in damages. The agency has offered no information to the press, other than a statement saying it stands by its advertising. Interestingly, the woman featured in the campaign opposite Mr. Zakiridis is Zoey Forde, the CEO's daughter."
"I've got to get there before she releases any more statements," Zoey murmured to herself.
The last thing she needed was anything that might antagonize Stelios. She needed him in as good a mood as possible if she wanted to have any hope of diffusing the situation. And the situation had to be diffused. Melinda Forde Singles was a very profitable business, but there was no way it could afford to pay out ten million dollars.
Zoey reached the transfer point in her journey, and Alex looked up from her coloring book to wave goodbye to her. She waved back absent-mindedly and stepped onto the platform to await the train that would finally carry her to work. A loud, roaring sound presently announced its arrival, and several minutes later, she arrived at the offices of Melinda Forde Singles.
There was a large knot of people clustered in front of the building, and when the turmoil in Zoey's mind calmed enough to let her recognize them, Zoey felt a mix of anger and horror well in her heart. Her mother's building had been surrounded by local and national reporters, perched eagerly at every vantage point, like buzzards waiting for their prey.
Two of the reporters were locked in a fierce argument with Ms. Bransford, who was refusing to allow them access to the reception area. On either side of the agency, journalists were capturing the spectacle, calling the agencies they represented, or punching notes into their tablets.