by Kimber Chin
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Champagne Books
www.champagnebooks.com
Copyright ©2008 by Kimber Chin-San
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
About Kimber
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Champagne Books Presents
Breach Of Trust
By
Kimber Chin
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This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Champagne Books www.champagnebooks.com
Copyright © 2008 by PKCS Incorporated (Written By Kim Chin-Sam)
ISBN 978-1-897445-09-9
May 2008
Cover Art © Trisha FitzGerald
Produced in Canada
Champagne Books
#35069-4604 37 ST SW
Calgary, AB T3E 7C7
Canada
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Acknowledgments
I'd like to acknowledge the following sources for their business expertise and research;
Guy Kawasaki (www.guykawasaki.com/) is the managing director of Garage Technology Ventures, an early-stage venture capital firm, and the author of my favorite book on start ups, The Art of the Start.
Ladies Who Launch (www.LadiesWhoLaunch.com/) is written specifically for female entrepreneurs-to-be. Victoria Colligan, and Beth Schoenfeldt (with Amy Swift) bring their real life experience to both the book and the website.
WomenEntrepreneur.com (www.WomenEntrepreneur.com/) is a website affiliated with Entrepreneur Magazine yet dedicated to the female business owner. If information needed is not found within the articles, blogs, and message boards, there is a helpful “Ask Entrepreneur” option where questions can be posted.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Dedication
Thank you to my husband (for proving that true love does exist and can survive a career change), to my best friend Gilly (for patiently playing the business idea of the day game these past two decades), and to my fabulous writing coach Aprille Janes from Creative Light And Power (for pushing me to submit that first writing contest entry)
[Back to Table of Contents]
One
This was the one, and it was about damn time. Venture capitalist Philippe Lamont's satisfaction was not reflected in his face. Instead he glared at the papers spread out on his desk, intentionally ignoring the middle-aged man seated before him. The strategy was simple. The more applicant Bruce Fallens waited, the more he worried. The more he worried, the easier getting the answer would be.
Philippe Lamont flipped the pages, another deliberate ploy. His team already had scrubbed-down the proposal, Philippe reviewing the final details himself. There was no new information. Not that new information was needed. This deal was luscious. A great product, a ready customer; all that was needed was expansion financing. That's where his company came in and come in, they would. The offer was drafted and ready.
Non, the delay had nothing to do with dollars.
Philippe waited a few more minutes, his eyes flicking up quickly to sweep the entrepreneur's face. A trickle of perspiration ran down the man's cheek. This was the one. Philippe could smell the anxiety, and with it, the sweet scent of success.
"It's an intriguing proposition.” Philippe closed the file and steepled his long thin index fingers, resting them on his chin. “Well presented.” He then asked for what he really wanted. “Who did your business plan?"
Bruce Fallens swallowed, the action bobbing his Adam's apple. “An associate."
Imbecile. Philippe knew that. One dark eyebrow jerked up. “Does this associate have a name?"
"Prefer not to say.” Bruce shifted nervously.
Prefer. The other business owners had told him that they would not say and then stuck to their word. Not Bruce; his preferences would be over-ridden.
"Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.” Philippe clucked. “If we're to be partners, you must be open with me, share your confidences, n'est pas?"
"I can't."
"Then,” Philippe shook his head with regret, “if you can't trust me, I can't trust you. Pur et simple. And I certainly can't finance your little venture. I don't go into business with people I don't trust.” He slid the file across the desk.
It was a bluff. The deal was fait accompli, the opportunity too juicy for Philippe to walk away from. He knew that, and his team knew that.
Bruce, however, didn't know. He stared at Philippe in disbelief. “But ... but ... but ... we won't get the contract unless you do."
"Ah, oui.” A well-defined jaw was clenched to stop the laughter. “I understand that your largest customer insists on my financing and my financing alone.” Philippe understood this only too well. It had taken calling in a big favor to have that accomplished.
"I'll give you forty-five percent ownership,” Bruce blurted out.
There was a gasp from the row of chairs lined up against the far wall.
Philippe's yearning to meet the business plan coach intensified. “Merci, Bruce. A most generous offer and we would be remiss not to take it.” Philippe motioned to Gregory, his lawyer, to capture this change. “I still need the name."
Bruce groaned, realizing his mistake.
Sloppy, sloppy. The venture capitalist almost tsk-tsked. The business owner had made concessions for nothing. Not that the increase in ownership mattered. Philippe was honest about going into business only with people he trusted. He would buy Bruce out.
They stared at each other, the wall clock ticking loudly. Philippe loved that clock, a constant reminder to guests that his every minute was precious. At exactly 3:54 p.m, the man crumbled.
"Okay.” It was barely a whisper, shame etching the desperate entrepreneur's face.
"The contract.” Bruce's lawyer piped up from the back row, “There'll be a lawsuit."
At least there was one other true businessman in the mix. The plan preparer was a professional, not trusting on blind faith alone. Philippe had no doubt the contract was leak proof, as polished as the mystery man's business plans. “That's no concern. We'll handle any legal fees or reparations."
"It'll be costly,” the lawyer warned.
"It'll be worth it.” Philippe brandished his hand dismissively. He had waited too long to let this chance slip by. “So who is it?"
Bruce looked around him nervously. “I'd rather tell you in private."
Oui, betray your confidence
s with no witnesses, that makes it so much more honorable. Mon Dieu. Philippe waved the others from the room, not bothering to hide his gloating smirk.
Gregory gave him a semi-congratulatory smile as he departed. Success, finally.
"So Bruce.” Philippe leaned forward eagerly. “Who prepped you for this presentation?"
"She's going to be pissed.” Bruce couldn't meet his eyes.
She? Philippe rocked back. A woman? All this time he had been pursuing a woman? A woman could sell to him like that? He hadn't even considered. It was an oversight and it angered him. Philippe Lamont didn't make many mistakes.
"The name, Bruce, I need the name. Who is it?” The question came out as a growl.
"Anne James,” Bruce's words were scarcely audible over the hum of the office hvac unit.
"Anne James?” Philippe echoed in disbelief. Anne James. Anne James. Do I know her? The name sounded familiar but distant, like a childhood memory.
"Missus?"
"Miss,” Bruce corrected, his eyes already filled with regret. “I was referred to her. Someone told me that she was the best."
"She is,” Philippe confirmed without hesitation. All her plans were bang on, the delivery impeccable, the deals fulfilling needs he wasn't even aware he had. That's why he needed to know. And now he did. Anne James. He had a name for his opponent. Did he have a face?
"What does she look like?” Philippe demanded from the downtrodden man.
Bruce shrugged. “Quiet, long brown hair, plain, thin, completely not noteworthy."
Philippe searched through his mental listing of attendees at recent business functions. It was a fairly small crowd that they traveled in, a few hundred people. Not that big of a database.
One image drifted to the forefront. Brunette, head tilted, big brown eyes watching him, like an inquisitive little sparrow. Not unattractive but Bruce was right, not worth noticing. Not worth noticing for personal; Philippe preferred voluptuous blondes. And not for business; he had been told she was merely an accountant.
Merely an accountant. He sniffed in disgust, both with himself and with his sources. All this time, the so-called accountant had been studying him, spying on him. Using his weaknesses, his personal foibles, to manipulate him. Oui, it must be her, it can be no one else, but Philippe needed absolute confirmation before taking action.
"Hair tightly pulled back? Always wears black?"
Bruce scrunched up his face in thought. “I suppose so, like I said, she's completely forgettable."
A woman who strived to be forgettable; that was an enigma.
The entrepreneur's eyes narrowed. “Why's her name so important?"
"That you don't need to know.” The question should have been asked before the information was given. At this point, Philippe was under no obligation to answer. “And I don't wish Mademoiselle James to know you told me."
"Fine with me. I'd rather no one knew.” Bruce breathed a sigh of relief. “She'll sue me for certain. Locked down and tough as beans, that's the way she is."
Oui, that's the way she is. That's the way I am also.
It was done. He had her.
"The contract will be amended for my ownership increase and sent to your office by the end of day tomorrow.” The meeting was at an end but as the entrepreneur made no sign to leave, he was coolly dismissed. “You may go."
Philippe left a message for his in-house private investigator, specifying that he needed a file with every minute detail of Mademoiselle James’ life, deadline yesterday. It isn't unethical, Philippe told his conscience. She already had the advantage, knowing everything about him. This would simply put them on the same level.
"You got the name?” Gregory Myers popped his blond head back in. Philippe's good friend must have been outside, waiting. Philippe nodded, his grin wide and widening.
Gregory temporarily disappeared back into the hallway. Philippe could hear him chatting and laughing with Sylvie, his assistant. Upon his return, his friend carried two glasses and an opened bottle of champagne. It took only one raised eyebrow to get the answer. “We've been saving it for exactly this occasion. The way you were focused, we figured you'd get him eventually."
"Her.” Philippe still could not get over it. A tiny little bird of a woman. “Mademoiselle Anne James."
"Anne James.” Gregory frowned, his forehead creased. “The accountant?"
This got Philippe's full attention. “You know her?"
"No.” The lawyer poured the champagne, a tinge of pink across his cheekbones. “We exchanged names once before she dashed back to her corner. Hard girl to nail down."
"You're telling me.” It had taken him months.
"The hunt was a blast while it lasted.” Gregory handed a full glass to Philippe. “Haven't seen you so passionate in a while."
Philippe sipped at the bubbly. “Been a bit bored lately,” he admitted. “Toujours la meme choix, you know how it is."
"Both personal and business, no doubt.” Gregory's face was knowing as he slipped into the comfy guest chair. “I
hear you. Can't play the role of free wheeling bachelor forever, you realize. Gets tired."
"You would know.” Gregory had more than his fair share of fleeting relationships.
"I do, I do.” Blue eyes crinkled. “I also know that someday, as dreadful as it seems, both you and I may have to settle down."
"Moi? Settle down? Avec Suzanne peut-etre?"
The blond haired man winced. “Or someone."
Gregory was not impressed with Philippe's current amour, he drove that point home every chance he could. His worry was that Suzanne wanted Philippe solely for security, or to be more precise, for his money.
That Philippe didn't doubt, but it didn't concern him much either. Theirs ran more along the lines of a commercial exchange. He had the cold hard cash Suzanne hungered for; she had all the core competencies he required. She was the perfect hostess, intelligent and witty, possessed of a quick tongue that Philippe appreciated, and of course, she was physically stunning.
What was there to be unhappy about? Nothing. Their partnering profited both parties. And a business relationship, Philippe understood. It was a comfortable arrangement.
"I suppose I should settle down eventually.” He shrugged elegantly clad shoulders. “I'm in no rush however, waiting for you to go first."
"Oh, no.” Gregory laughed. “Don't be waiting for me. You're the fearless one, the pioneer. You do the honors."
"Ah, but you see. The problem with pioneers is that a lot of them died that first harsh drought.” Philippe's brown eyes gleamed.
"Indeed, indeed.” The lawyer nodded in bemusement and they both chuckled.
Philippe's mind drifted back unaided to a mousy brunette. “Anne James.” His mouth turned up at the thought. “I finally got her."
"You did. So now what?” Gregory leaned back in the chair, his arms folded behind his head. Philippe wasn't fooled by his nonchalance. His friend, for some reason, wanted to know the answer. “You've run the tiny Anne James to ground. What do you plan to do with her?"
"Do I detect a bit of interest?” Philippe didn't know where this question came from, a hunch he had.
To his surprise, the question hit the jackpot, causing the man to blush. “Like you said, same ol', same ol’”
Same ol', same ol', my foot. There was something there between Gregory and the business plan coach. Philippe couldn't let it interfere with his revenge.
"She's mine, Gregory.” The comment made his stance clear. The lawyer bowed his head in silent concord. “And I'll play her as she has played me. The real fun is only just beginning."
Gregory raised his glass in solemn salute. “Then heaven help the poor woman."
* * * *
The object of Philippe's contemplations was peering over yet another business plan, this one filled with big dreams, spelling mistakes and some very creative accounting.
"Think, Samantha. Think. Who are your competitors?” Anne's quiet voice implored the
perky brunette standing beside her desk.
The teenager thought, blowing out a big pink bubble. When it finally snapped with a wave of strawberry scent, she answered, “Like other vending machines?"
"Yes.” Anne nodded encouragingly. “Anyone else?"
"I don't like, think so?” The girl shrugged, her ponytail bobbing.
Telling her would be too easy, Anne knew. She had to get the future business leader thinking, using that brain she was blessed with. “If you were looking to buy candy, where would you buy it from?"
Blue eyes lit up in understanding. “Like, maybe, like the Minute Mart, like on the corner?"
"Good.” Anne was right about Samantha knowing the answer. “And where else?"
"Like, Target? Like ... like Wal-Mart?"
"You got it, girl. Knowing that takes a good business plan and makes it great,” and then Anne's voice rose to reach the entire class, “What have we learned today? Samantha, would you like to share?"
Glossy lips curled. “Do I like have to?” came out as a whine.
"Fearless, Samantha,” Anne's tone was kind yet firm. The teen suffered from the typical age-related shyness. “Sales don't go to the meek."
"No guts, no glory. Right Miss J? That's what you always tell us,” Dirk, her red headed car-obsessed fifteen-year-old, piped up from the front row.
This earned the boy a nasty glance from Samantha.
"That's right, Dirk.” Anne gave him the thumbs up. “So, Samantha, be fearless. You know the answer."
"Okay, okay. Like, if I have to?"
"You have to,” Anne reinforced yet again. Sometimes getting a simple statement from Samantha was as difficult as reprogramming her cell phone.
"Blah.” Blue eyes rolled. “We like, learned that, like, competition is bigger than, like, just who you, like, first think?” Samantha's voice lifted in perpetual question.
"Absolutely.” Anne stood up and strode to the black board to capture the thought. “If you're to build a successful business, you need to watch all the players, everyone who might steal a customer from you. You need a point of differentiation from each of them."
