Read Online Zoe and the Tormented Tycoon by Kate Hewitt - Free Book Online Page A

for the lightning bolt of shock that sliced through her when he finally turned, and she gazed into a pair of eyes as jade green as her own. She’d always felt like an anomaly among her sisters, with their dazzling Balfour blue eyes, the same as their father’s. Hers were so different, and now she knew where those eyes came from, who had given them to her. And they were gazing at her now with an expression of cold courtesy.
    â€˜Miss Balfour? How may I help?’
    He had no idea why she was here, Zoe thought numbly. Or at least he was good at pretending he didn’t.
    â€˜I believe you knew my mother, Mr Anderson. Alexandra Balfour?’
    He stilled, the expression in his eyes turning wary before it quickly cleared. ‘I don’t— Yes, a long time ago. I had business in London one summer and I believe we may have met.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Pardon me, Miss Balfour. I’d assumed you came here to ask on behalf of a charity or some such. I have numerous such requests and—’
    â€˜That’s not why I came.’ Zoe spoke through stiff lips. Not unless she was considered a charity. ‘And you know it.’ She didn’t know where she found the courage or the conviction to say the last, but she knew it deep in her bones. Thomas Anderson knew exactly why she’d come here. He had to at least suspect. ‘I expect, being in finance,’ she continued coolly, ‘you’re rather good at maths.’ He shrugged, and Zoe continued. ‘It will be twenty-seven years ago this June that you met my mother.’ She paused, watching him. ‘I turned twenty-six in April.’
    The silence was electric and went on for too long. Thomas Anderson’s gaze had turned terribly cold. ‘I’m afraid, Miss Balfour, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
    Zoe stared at him, not wanting to feel the well of disappointed hope opening up inside of her, consuming her. Had she actually thought he might accept she was his daughter? Open his arms and embrace her like some prodigal child? And would she have even wanted that?
    At least a small, desperate part of her would have. She recognised that by the disappointment and despair swamping her now. Her nails dug into her palms and she lifted her chin. ‘I don’t know how much of it reached the papers over here, Mr Anderson, but a little over a monthago a story broke at the Balfour Charity Ball—a scandal.’ She paused; her father’s expression didn’t change. ‘The story was that my mother—Alexandra Balfour—had an affair twenty-seven years ago, and her youngest daughter was actually illegitimate.’
    The smile he gave her was chilly. ‘I’m afraid I don’t read the kinds of papers that run those stories, Miss Balfour.’
    â€˜No, you just live them.’ The vitriol in her words shocked both of them, but Zoe didn’t apologise. ‘This episode of my mother’s life was discovered in an old journal she kept. She named you as my father.’ There. It was said. It wasn’t exactly true—she hadn’t written his name—but how many American businessmen spent a summer in London, had been invited to Balfour Manor and had eyes the colour of jade?
    Thomas Anderson stared at her for a long moment, and for a second—no more—Zoe thought he would admit it. Explain. Apologise. She longed for it, for the explanation and, more importantly, the acceptance. Then she saw a flicker of regret pass across his face like a shadow and he turned away from her, back to the windows.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
    â€˜Are you saying you didn’t have an affair with my mother?’ Zoe demanded in both disbelief and despair.
    He paused, a tiny hesitation but telling nonetheless. ‘I knew your mother socially, for a very brief time.’
    â€˜So she lied?’