The Tycoon's Secret Daughter. SUSAN MEIER
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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.
She rose and paced to his desk. “Do you know what it’s like to live with someone who tells you they love you but then doesn’t have ten minutes in a day for you?”
Max went stock-still. This was usually what happened when he apologized. The person he’d wronged had a grievance. It had been so long since he’d had one of these sessions that he’d forgotten. But when Kate turned, her green eyes wary, her voice soft, filled with repressed pain, remorse flooded him. She had a right to be angry.
“I’ll tell you what it’s like. It’s painful, but most of all it’s bone-shatteringly lonely.”
Guilt tightened his stomach. He’d always known he’d hurt her, but he’d never been sober enough to hear the pain in her voice, see it shimmer in her eyes.
And she wanted to save Trisha from that. So did he. But the way he’d protect her would be to stay sober. “I won’t hurt her.”
“You know, you always told me the same thing. That you wouldn’t hurt me. But you did. Every day.” Her voice softened to a faint whisper. “Every damned day.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. Really sorry.”
“Right.”
Righteous indignation rose up in him. He hated his past as much as she hated his past. But this time she wasn’t innocent.
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe I’d have gotten sober sooner if I’d known I was having a child? Did you ever stop to think that if you’d stayed, I might have turned around an entire year sooner?”
“No.” She caught his gaze. “You loved me, Max. I always knew it. But I wasn’t a good enough reason for you to get sober. I wasn’t taking a chance with our child.”
“You could have at least told me you were pregnant before you left.”
“And have you show up drunk at the hospital while I was struggling through labor? Or drunk on Christmas Day to ruin Trisha’s first holiday? Or maybe have you stagger into her dance recital so she could be embarrassed in front of her friends?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
The picture she painted shamed him. Things he’d done drunk now embarrassed him as much as they had his friends and family. And he suddenly understood. Making amends with Kate wouldn’t be as simple as saying he was sorry. He was going to have to prove himself to her.
He blew his breath out on a sigh, accepted it, because accepting who he was, who he had been, was part of his recovery. “So maybe it would be good for you to be around when I see her.”
Her reply was soft, solemn. “Maybe it would.”
“Can I come over tonight and meet her?”
“I was thinking tomorrow afternoon might be a better idea. I take my mom to the hospital every day, but lately Trisha’s been bored. So I thought I’d start bringing her home in the afternoon.”
“And I can come over?”
“Yes. Until my dad is released from the hospital, we’ll have some privacy.”
With that she turned and headed for the elevator. Prickling with guilt, he leaned back on the sofa. But when the elevator doors swished closed behind her, he thought about how different things might have been if she’d told him about her pregnancy, and his anger returned. She hadn’t given him a chance to try to sober up. She hadn’t even given him a chance to be a dad.
Still, could he blame her?
A tiny voice deep down inside him said yes. He could blame her. He might see her perspective, but he’d also had a right to know his child.
He rose from the sofa and headed for his desk again. That’s exactly what his father had told him the night he’d confronted him about being his adopted brother