Zoe and the Tormented Tycoon by Kate Hewitt Page B

scrambling to a sitting position.
    â€˜Dadd—’ She pressed her lips together, and heard Oscar sigh.
    â€˜I hadn’t heard from you since you arrived in New York, Zoe, and I wanted to make sure you were all right. You sound as if you were asleep—’
    â€˜I was.’
    â€˜It’s one o’clock in the afternoon.’
    â€˜I was out late last night.’
    The tiny, arctic pause told Zoe Oscar wasn’t happy about that. ‘Am I to understand you have not taken steps to reach your father?’
    â€˜He’s not my father.’
    â€˜Indeed.’ Oscar’s tone gentled. ‘But you know who I am talking about, Zoe, and—’
    â€˜I haven’t decided if I want to find him,’ Zoe cut him off. ‘I’m not sure what good it will do. He hasn’t been interested in me before now—’
    â€˜I doubt he knew of your existence.’
    â€˜You don’t think my mother ever told him?’ Thequestion came out stilted. My mother. Who was she? Bella and Olivia had memories; she had nothing but the knowledge that she was the cause of her mother’s death. The only mother she had really ever known had been Oscar’s third wife, Lillian, and she’d died months ago. The loss was still fresh, painful, leaving her feeling even more adrift.
    â€˜I doubt it, Zoe.’ Oscar paused. ‘But even if she did, his position was hardly tenable. She was married, you know, to me.’
    â€˜Well, still,’ Zoe said, hearing a petulant note creep into her voice. ‘I don’t know if I want to find him.’
    â€˜Then perhaps you should return here,’ Oscar said after a moment, ‘to Balfour Manor.’
    Balfour Manor…the only place she’d ever really thought of as home, with its gracious rooms and rolling lawns, its sense of history and honour, certain of its dignified place in the world.
    If only she felt the same.
    â€˜Zoe…?’ Oscar prompted, and she shook her head even though he couldn’t see her.
    â€˜I can’t.’ She couldn’t face everyone’s pity or curiosity, the tabloids who wouldn’t let go of her story, or the fair-weather friends who would turn—already had—at the first sign of rain. She couldn’t, even though part of her—a large part—longed to flee back to the safe haven of home.
    â€˜If you can’t go back,’ Oscar told her, a smile in his voice, ‘then go forward. That’s why you’re in New York—not just to ring up the charges on my credit card.’ Although the kindness in his tone took the sting out of the words, Zoe still flushed guiltily.
    â€˜OK,’ she finally said, the one word given reluctantly, and Oscar gave a tiny sigh.
    â€˜I love you, Zoe.’
    Tears stung her eyes. She thought she’d cried them all already, yet there they were again, ready to fall. She blinked them back.
    â€˜I love you too,’ she mumbled.
    After she hung up the phone she clambered out of the bed and walked through the quiet, empty rooms of the Balfour apartment. Out on the penthouse’s terrace, Zoe sank into a wrought-iron chair, drawing her legs up to her chest.
    It was a gorgeous day, the sky a pale, washed blue, the trees in Central Park a vivid green. Even in the city everything smelled fresh, new.
    If you can’t go back, then go forward.
    The thought terrified her. She had no idea what forward looked like, felt like. What it could mean.
    Yet she knew of only one step forward to take, the step she’d been sent to New York for.
    She needed to find her father.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Z OE tilted her head back to survey the gleaming glass skyscraper once more; it was one of the tallest, most imposing buildings on Fifty-Seventh Street. A brass plaque by the front doors, guarded by an official-looking doorman in a navy suit with gold braid, had two discreet words: Anderson Finance .
    Thomas Anderson, the CEO and founder of