His Brand of Passion by Kate Hewitt Read Free Book Online Page B

she’d endured it; she’d got through, got stronger.
    She could do this.
    She headed up the five narrow flights of stairs to her tiny shoebox of an apartment; each step felt like a burden. How would she manage these stairs when she was nine months’ pregnant? Or with a pram? And what would she do for childcare, for
money?
    Oh, God, what she was doing? She reached the top of the stairs and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, willingthe tears to recede. She’d never cried so much in her life before.
    ‘Zoe.’
    She dropped her hands, shock icing through her, freezing her to the floor. Aaron stood in front of her door.
    She looked terrible, Aaron thought. Her face was pale and gaunt, her hair stringy. And, even more alarmingly, she seemed near to tears, which he’d never seen before. He’d thought of her as strong, invincible, yet now she looked like she needed protecting. He felt a surge of concern, an unfamiliar emotion, and he took a step towards her.
    ‘Are you all right?’
    ‘Clearly not,’ she answered tautly. ‘But why do you care?’ Without another word she pushed past him and unlocked the door to her apartment.
    Aaron stood there, feeling weirdly and horribly uncertain. He hated doubt, hated how it crept inside him and poisoned everything he believed and knew. He hated feeling it now, and with it another rush of guilt for the way he’d acted. Of course Zoe didn’t want to see or talk to him. He’d asked her—he’d offered to pay her—to get rid of their child. It had been an impulse born of desperation, but there was no going back from it. No forgetting, and perhaps no forgiving.
    He’d realised that as soon as he’d seen the look of horror and shock on her face and knew he was its cause. He’d known what he’d done was unforgivable and he’d felt a sudden, cringing shame. Was he going to let his own fear control him that much? Was he going to be that weak, that cruel?
    Now he stood in the doorway of Zoe’s apartment and watched as she shrugged off her coat. She tossed it onto a chair and it slithered onto the floor. Her shoulders slumped.
    ‘May I come in?’
    ‘Why?’ She straightened, tension radiating through her lithe body.
    ‘I want to talk to you.’
    ‘If you’re going to try to strong arm me into—’
    ‘I’m not.’ Aaron cut her off. ‘That was—that was a bad idea.’
    She laughed dryly, the sound without humour. ‘Quite a confession, coming from you.’
    ‘May I come in?’
    She shrugged wearily and turned to face him. ‘Fine.’
    Aaron stepped into the apartment, blinking in the gloom until Zoe switched on a light. The place was tiny, just one rectangle of a room with a bed, a sofa, a dresser and a tiny kitchen in the corner.
    ‘I’m sure,’ Zoe said dryly, ‘it horrifies you to realise people live like this.’
    He glanced at her, saw her eyes sparking with some of her old fire, a sardonic smile on her lips. ‘“Horrifies” might be too strong a word.’
    ‘This is actually quite a nice apartment,’ she informed him. ‘According to some of my friends. At least I don’t have to share.’
    He stepped over some pyjamas that had been left on the floor and returned her coat to the chair. ‘I can’t imagine sharing a place this size.’
    She watched him for a moment, her face without expression. ‘What do you want, Aaron?’ She spoke flatly, the fire gone.
    ‘I want to discuss our child.’
    ‘
My child
,’ she corrected. ‘I think you gave up any paternal rights when you offered me that money.’
    Anger flared but he forced it down. ‘I told you, that was a bad idea.’
    ‘Oh,
well
, then,’ she drawled. ‘Never mind.’
    All right, fine. Maybe he deserved this. He most assuredly did, but that didn’t make accepting it any more pleasant. ‘Look, I’m sorry, Zoe. I acted on impulse.’
    ‘Some impulse.’
    ‘I wasn’t prepared to be a father.’
    ‘I wasn’t asking you to be a father,’ she shot back. ‘I was simply informing you