The Tycoon's Secret Daughter

Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds.

Her face grew warm, her hands clammy. Surely he wasn’t so angry that he’d refuse to see her?

Memories of being married to a wealthy man came flooding back. His job was important. His place in the community was even more important. Fundraisers. Ribbon-cuttings. Balls. Parties.

Always worried she’d say or do the wrong thing.

Never feeling good enough.

Righteous indignation surged in her blood. She was the star project manager at her job in Tennessee. She raised a daughter on her own. If she went to a fundraiser, she contributed. If she went to a ribbon-cutting it was for a building she’d helped build.

Good enough?

Hell, yeah. She was good enough. And if Max thought he and his money were going to push her around, he was sadly mistaken.

The receptionist faced her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Montgomery. You may go up.”

“Actually, it’s Ms. Hunter now.”

The receptionist nodded in acknowledgment. “Take the third elevator in the back of that hall.” She pointed to the left. “By the time you get there, a security guard will be there to punch in the code.”

She walked to the last elevator with her head high. The security guard said, “Good morning, Ms. Hunter.” Proof the receptionist was very good at her job. Punching a few numbers into a keypad, he opened the elevator, motioned her inside and stepped back as the doors closed.

The ride to the fourth floor took seconds. The door swooshed open. More potted trees accented a low, ultra-modern green sofa and chair. A green print rug sat on the yellow hardwood floor.

Sitting at the desk in front of a wall of windows, Max looked up.

Catching him off guard, Kate didn’t see the angry father of her child or the rich mogul. She saw Max. Real Max. Max with his thick, unruly black hair. Max with his easy smile and pretty blue eyes. The first time she’d laid eyes on him, he’d stolen her breath and her heart.

Which was another reason she’d moved away rather than simply move out when she’d gotten pregnant. No matter how bad their life, she’d always loved him and he’d always been able to charm her.

She swallowed. Her bravado from the reception area began to fade. But she forced it back to life. She wasn’t here to argue for herself, but for Trisha. To protect Trisha.

He rose from his tall-backed, golden-brown leather chair. “Kate. I have to say I’m kind of surprised.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m not the wimpy girl you married.” There. Best to get that out in the open before they went any further. “We have something to discuss. We’re going to discuss it.”

“Big talk from a woman who ran away.”

“From a drunk,” she said, not mincing words. She knew she’d done the right thing and she wasn’t going to let his good looks and charm suck her in again. Too much was at stake.

“And hitting below the belt, I see.”

“Saying the truth isn’t hitting below the belt. Unless you can’t handle the truth.”

His breath poured out in a long hiss as he motioned toward the green sofa and chair. “I know who and what I am.”

She headed for the chair, not wanting to risk that he’d sit beside her on the couch. “Then this conversation should go very easily. We have a daughter. You’re sober now. And I’m willing to let you spend time with Trisha as long as I’m with you.”

Max lowered himself to the sofa. “With me? I don’t get to see my child alone?”

Her chin rose again. “No. Not until I trust you.”

Max stared at her. Just as he’d changed over the past eight years, she had, too. Gone was his sweet Kate, replaced by somebody he didn’t know. Maybe somebody he didn’t want to know. Maybe even somebody who deserved the burst of fury he longed to release.

He rubbed his hands down his face. No matter how much he wanted to rant and rail, he couldn’t give in to it. Not only had he been at fault for her leaving, but just as drinking didn’t solve anything, neither did losing his temper. Another lesson he’d learned while she was gone.

His voice was perfectly controlled as he said, “I don’t think you’re in a position to dictate terms.”

“I think I am.”

“And I have two lawyers who say you aren’t.”

Her eyes widened with incredulity. “You’ve already called your lawyers?”

“A smart businessman knows when he needs advice.”

“So you think you’re going to ride roughshod over me with lawyers?”

“I think I’m going to do what I have to do.”

She shook her head. “Do you want me to leave tomorrow? Do you want me to hide so far away and so deeply that you’ll never, ever see your daughter?”

Control be damned. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m protecting my daughter. We play by my rules or no rules at all. I won’t put Trisha at risk.”

“Risk? You have no reason to fear for her. I never hurt you!”

“No, you just smashed TVs and broke windows. You were escalating, Max, and you scared me.”

Guilt pummeled him enough that he scrubbed his hand over his mouth to give himself a few seconds to collect himself. Finally he said, “You could have talked to me.”

Her face scrunched in disbelief. “Really? Talk to a guy so drunk he could barely stand? And how was that supposed to work?”

“I might have come home drunk, but I was sober every morning.”

“And hungover.”

He sighed. “No matter how I felt, I would have listened to you.”

“That’s not how I remember it. I remember living with a man who was either stone-cold drunk or hungover. Three years of silence or lies and broken promises. Three years of living with a man who barely noticed I was there. I won’t sit back and watch our little girl stare out the window waiting for you the way I used to. Or lie in bed worrying that you’d wrecked your car because you were too drunk to drive and too stubborn to admit it. Or spend the day alone, waiting for you to wake up because you’d been out all night.”

Fury rattled through him. “I’m sober now!”

“I see that. And I honestly hope it lasts. But even you can’t tell me with absolute certainty that it will. And since you can’t, I stand between you and Trisha. I protect her. She will not go through what I went through.”

Her voice wobbled, and the anger that had been pulsing through his brain, feeding his replies, stopped dead in its tracks. She wasn’t just mad at him. She was still hurting.