Zoe and the Tormented Tycoon by Kate Hewitt Page A

she’d learned she was pregnant, it had seemed essential that she tell Max. She wanted her baby to have a father, yet she should have realised Max was hardly going to jump into the role of daddy with eager ease. They barely knew each other.
    And the last thing she wanted was for her baby to have a father who rejected her…like she had been rejected.
    â€˜What do you want to do?’ Max asked eventually, his voice terribly neutral. ‘Somehow I don’t think you need money, but if that’s what you’re after—’
    Zoe twisted in her seat to glare at him. ‘I’m not after anything,’ she ground out. ‘Silly me, I thought it might concern you, the fact you’ve fathered a child.’
    Max turned to the window so she couldn’t see his expression. ‘Are you telling me you intend to keep it?’
    Zoe recoiled. ‘Would you prefer I didn’t?’
    He shrugged, not speaking, and revulsion crawled through her. When he finally spoke, it was no more than a whisper, and she couldn’t be sure she’d heard him at all. ‘No.’
    â€˜No?’
    â€˜I’m not asking you to get an abortion if you don’t wish to have one,’ Max said flatly, his face still turned to the window. ‘I’m not quite that selfish.’
    The limo pulled to the curb in front of Max’s building and he got out of the car, leaving Zoe no choice but to follow, tripping once more over the uneven cobbles.
    They didn’t speak in the foyer, or in the closed space ofthe lift as it soared thirty-two floors up into the sky. Zoe waited tensely as Max stalked across his living room—shoving aside a chair in an almost vicious movement—before he poured himself a rather large Scotch and downed it in one gulp.
    â€˜I’d offer you a drink but I suppose that’s not the thing when you’re expecting,’ he said, his back to her, his voice dark with a savage humour.
    â€˜No, it’s all wretched herbal teas,’ Zoe replied lightly. ‘I’d kill for a cup of coffee.’
    â€˜Surely a little caffeine can’t be that bad for you, this early on?’
    Zoe shrugged. She’d read a brochure that linked excessive caffeine to the threat of a miscarriage, and while the research showed that a cup a day was fine, she realised she didn’t want to take unnecessary risks, or even any risks at all.
    She wanted this baby. A lot. More than anything she’d ever wanted before. Perhaps even more than she wanted to be a Balfour. The realisation surprised her, and even scared her a little bit.
    â€˜So.’ Max put his glass down carefully on the table and turned slowly to face her. ‘I appreciate you telling me the news, but what exactly are you hoping to achieve here?’
    Zoe swallowed. It was, she knew, a good question. What was she doing here? What did she want—realistically, possibly—from Max? ‘I want you to be involved in our child’s life.’ The words came out in a nervous rush, and Max arched one eyebrow.
    â€˜Involved?’ he repeated, and there was no disguising his incredulity. ‘What are you talking about?’
    His blatant disbelief stung her, reminded her of her own biological father’s utter refusal to acknowledge her in any way. ‘I’m talking about responsibility, Max—’
    â€˜The responsible thing would have been not to get you pregnant in the first place,’ Max replied shortly. ‘Barring that, it would be to give you the money—’
    â€˜No.’ Zoe took a step closer to him, her hand pressed against her tummy. ‘Are you really that cold-hearted, that you’d wish your own child out of existence?’
    Max’s face and voice were both expressionless. ‘I can’t really be sure it’s mine, can I?’
    â€˜We can have a paternity test as soon as you like,’ Zoe said evenly. ‘I have nothing to