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‘I paid most of it off with my savings,’ she admitted. ‘I did a few commercials last summer. They’re not really acting, but they pay well.’
He nodded. ‘And has he spoken to anyone about his problem? Other than you, I mean. Friends, maybe? Your parents?’
She shook her head. How could she explain about her parents? About their marriage, their life together. About how it was what she wanted to have. Maybe not their diner, the Love Shack—she’d had enough waitressing to last her a lifetime—but they were so supportive and happy. She and David would never do anything to jeopardise that happiness.
‘He didn’t—we don’t want them to know. They’d only worry. Besides...’ she added, meeting his gaze ‘...I—we can sort it out.’
Rollo studied her face. Wrong, he thought silently. This kind of problem could never be sorted out without professional help. Addicts rarely believed that they had a problem, no matter what pain and chaos they caused to those around them. And sometimes even when they did, it made little if any difference to their behaviour.
‘So when did he tell you?’ he said at last. ‘About the gambling.’
She swallowed. ‘The same day he stole your watch.’
He was silent a moment, considering her answer. Then he said quietly, ‘Selfish of him, don’t you think?’
Her head jerked up. But what had she expected? Had she really believed Rollo would understand? Or care.
Rollo Fleming.
A man who thought nothing of exploiting another man’s moment of weakness or a woman’s affection for her brother. She felt sick, her stomach lurching. She had betrayed her brother’s confidence, and for nothing.
She glared at him. ‘He’s not selfish—’ she began.
But he cut in.
‘He’s your twin. He must have known that you’d step up and sort it out for him.’
He held up his hand as she started to protest.
‘I’m not judging him, Daisy. But addicts don’t think like other people. They lie and deny and prevaricate and make excuses. It’s part of their sickness.’
She watched his face carefully. It sounded as if he knew what he was talking about and she wanted to ask him how. Or maybe who. But his expression was distant, discouraging, as though he knew that she was trying to figure out the meaning behind his remark.
She nodded mutely.
He met her gaze. ‘David is sick. He needs care and support.’
His eyes were cool and untroubled, but his expression had shifted into something she hadn’t expected to see; it was oddly gentle...almost like sympathy.
‘Which is why I’m going to arrange for him to receive professional help at a clinic.’
Daisy’s heart stopped. Unsteadily she pushed back her hair, trying to make sense of his words. ‘Why?’ she said finally. ‘Why would you do that?’
Why, indeed?
Rollo gazed at her taut face. The fine cheekbones and delicate jaw were offset perfectly by her pale, almost-luminous skin. She was very beautiful. But that wasn’t the reason he was going to help her brother.
He didn’t approve of what David had done. Theft was still theft. Nor did he agree with how Daisy had behaved. But he understood their motives better now.
He shrugged. ‘Despite what you think, Daisy, I’m not a complete monster. He needs treatment. As his employer, I feel some responsibility for his welfare. But there is one condition.’
His voice was quiet but she heard the warning note—felt it echo inside her and through her head to the corners of the room.
‘I’ll take care of David but I won’t be messed around. You might not be on my payroll, but you work for me now, and I expect...’ He paused, his eyes pulling her gaze upwards like a tractor’s headlight beam. ‘I demand honesty from my staff.’
Forcing herself to meet his eyes, she gave him a small, tight smile. ‘I understand. And thank you for helping David. It’s very kind of you.’
He nodded. ‘Leave it with me.’
