Chapter 533
Chapter 533:
“Aren’t you coming?” Lea asked when she saw I hadn’t moved.
“No. I’ve got somewhere else to be. Get some rest.” I watched her disappear into the lobby, then told the driver to take me to Mira’s hotel.
She’d had enough alone time. She hadn’t called or texted me all day. She could blame me for her father’s death, she could lash out, but I wouldn’t accept this silence, this deliberate avoidance.
I got out in front of the building and took the lift up to her floor.
She was still awake, as I’d expected.
“I was just about to call you,” she said when she opened the door. She was still fully dressed despite the late hour. Normally, she’d be in her pajamas by now. Another unsettling sign sat on the coffee table: an almost empty bottle of Château Margaux.
“You’ve been drinking,” I said.
“Yeah.” She followed my gaze to the bottle. She smiled faintly, but not with embarrassment, then returned to the sofa. “I thought I could do it sober. Turns out I still needed some Dutch courage p>
“Do what?” I stepped closer, a tight knot forming in my gut.
“No.” She gave my shoulder a light shove when I sat beside her. “Take the chair opposite. I stink of wine p>
I frowned but did as she asked, sitting in the armchair across from her. A coffee table lay between us.
“I’m sorry about Franklin,” I said. I should have said it earlier, when I first told her about his death.
Mira didn’t appear to hear me. She sat with her legs tucked under her, reached for the bottle, drank straight from it, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
When she finally looked at me, her eyes were red.
“Have you been crying? What’s wrong?” I stood, moving toward her.
“No.” She waved me back. “Stay where you are. I need some distance. To do this right p>
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“Mira.” The unease in my gut deepened.
“Just sit, please p>
Why hadn’t I noticed the tremor in her voice earlier?
I sat, keeping my eyes on her. Had she been grieving for Franklin?
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” she asked, her gaze fixed on mine. Her eyes, usually clear and lit with warmth, were hooded, red-rimmed, and impossible to read. “About Franklin p>
“No, not that. The other thing p>
“What other thing p>
“How was your day p>
I frowned. She wasn’t making sense.
“How was your day?” she repeated, leaning forward as if she could see straight through me. She looked ready to keep asking until she got the answer she wanted.
“It was fine.” I thought of the court case, the Marchands, and then the dinner where Lea finally cut ties with her abusive husband.
“That’s it? Just fine p>
That was clearly not the answer she wanted.
I nodded. “What’s wrong p>