‘You were worried he would blurt something in his drunken state?’ Miranda said.
He gave her a world-weary look. ‘Anyone being drunk is not a pretty sight but my father took it to a whole new level. He always liked a drink but I don’t ever remember seeing him flat-out drunk as a child. Losing Rosie tipped him over. He numbed himself with alcohol in order to cope.’
‘Did he ever try and get help for his drinking?’
‘I offered to pay for rehab numerous times but he wouldn’t hear of it,’ Leandro said. ‘He said he didn’t have a problem. He was able to control it. Mostly he did. But not when he was with me, especially in latter years.’
Miranda’s heart clenched. How painful it must have been for him to witness the devastation of his father’s life while being cognisant that he was deemed responsible for it. It was too cruel. Too sad. Too unbearable to think of someone as decent, sensitive and wonderful as Leandro being tortured so. ‘It must have been awful to watch him slide into such self-destruction and not be able to do anything to help,’ she said. ‘But you mustn’t blame yourself, Leandro. Not now. Not after all this time. Your father made choices. He could’ve got help at any point. You did what you could. You can’t force someone to get help. They have to be willing to accept there’s a problem in the first place.’
He looked back at the glass of untouched wine in front of him, his brows drawn together in a tightly knitted frown. Miranda put her hand out and covered his where it was resting on the snowy-white tablecloth. He looked up and met her gaze with the dark intensity of his. ‘You’re a nice kid, Miranda,’ he said in a gruff burr that made the base of her spine shiver.
A nice kid.
Didn’t he see her as anything other than the kid sister of his best mates? And why did it bother her if he didn’t see she was a fully grown woman? It shouldn’t bother her at all. She wasn’t going to break her promise to Mark. She couldn’t. For the last seven years she had stayed true to her commitment. She took pride in being so steadfast, so strong and so loyal, especially in this day and age when people slept with virtual strangers.
Her words were the last words Mark had heard before he’d left this world. How could she retract them?
A promise was a promise.
Miranda lowered her gaze and pulled back her hand but even when it was back in her lap she could feel the warmth of Leandro’s skin against her palm.
The rest of the meal continued with the conversation on much lighter ground. He asked her about her work at the gallery and, an hour and two courses later, she realised he had cleverly drawn her out without revealing anything of his own work and the stresses and demands it placed on him.
‘Enough about me,’ she said, pushing her wine glass away. ‘Tell me about your work. What made you go into forensic accounting?’
‘I was always good at maths,’ he said. ‘But straight accounting wasn’t enough for me. I was drawn to the challenge of uncovering complicated financial systems. It’s a bit like breaking a code. I find it satisfying.’
‘And clearly financially rewarding,’ Miranda said.
He gave a slight movement of his lips that might have been considered a smile. ‘I do okay.’
He was being overly modest, Miranda thought. He didn’t brandish his wealth as some people did. There were no private jets, Italian sports cars and luxurious holidays all over the globe; he had invested his money wisely in property and shares and gave a considerable amount to charity. Not that he made that public. She had only heard about it via her brother Julius, who was also known for his philanthropy.
Just as they were leaving the restaurant, once Leandro had paid the bill, a party of people came towards them from down the lane. Miranda wouldn’t have taken much notice except a woman of about thirty or so peeled away from the group to approach Leandro.
‘Leandro?’ she said. ‘Fancy running into you here! I haven’t heard from you for a while. I’ve come over for a wedding of a friend. Are you here on business?’
‘How are you?’
Leandro gave the young woman a kiss on both cheeks. ‘Fine. You?’
The woman eyed Miranda. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ she asked Leandro with a glinting look.
‘Miranda, this is Nicole Holmes,’ he said. ‘We worked for the same accounting firm before I left to go out on my own. Nicole, this is Miranda Ravensdale.’
Nicole’s perfectly shaped brows lifted. ‘As in the infamous Ravensdales?’ she said.
Miranda gave a tight smile. ‘Pleased to meet you, Nicole.’
Nicole’s gaze travelled over Miranda in an assessing, sizing-up manner common to some women when they encountered someone they presumed was competition. ‘I’ve been reading all about your father’s secret love-child in the papers and gossip mags,’ she said. ‘Have you met your new sister yet?’