Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
ROMAN
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Either way, I’m feeling somewhat hysterical as we enter the imposing gates, and even more so when they close behind Maggie’s car.
All I can hope is that she’s truly a stark raving lunatic, and that everything she says about her family and her ex is a manifestation of her delusions. The pervasive sense of doom that settles over me as we head deeper into her family’s domain tells me that that small hope is a fallacy.
Every inch of the place screams old money, from the impressive ironwork on the gates and fences, so ornately twisted and sharply pointed, to the insanely long gravel drive that crunches under the tyres.
Not to mention the security. Cameras are everywhere.
Visible, to deter trespassers, I guess, but I imagine many more hidden from view, too.
The idea of constant monitoring makes me uneasy. Which is ironic, considering I’ve made a living being watched by strangers.
Maggie looks as unsettled as I. Returning home shouldn’t feel like a chore. Gran’s house never did. Even with her needling me about relationships on a regular basis.
Stretching out my fingers, I wince. My wrists have been attached to the door all day, and everything is stiff.
Well, not everything, but my shoulders, arms and wrists ache.
I’m not used to feeling vulnerable. I’m used to being the biggest bloke in most rooms, and building a narrative to be seen as I choose to be seen.
And now I’m out of my depth.
Completely at Maggie’s mercy.
God help me.
Maggie brings the car to a stop and reaches across me. I flinch before I can stop myself, and she rolls her eyes. Metal dimly flashes as Maggie pulls a knife from the centre console. The crazy bitch is actually armed.
‘Don’t crap your pants, just hold still,’ she murmurs, her curls all up in my face as I try to back up, but I’m pressed against the seat already.
‘I can’t exactly not hold still,’ I say.
‘And I’m trying to rectify that.’ She saws through the plastic zip ties with quick jerks. They give way with a soft snap, and blood rushes back into me so sharply it stings. I roll my shoulders and flex my fingers, very tempted to grab the door handle and make a run for it.
Maggie doesn’t look at me. She returns to her stoic grip on the wheel. Her eyes fix on the driveway ahead, jaw clenched.
‘Don’t try anything stupid,’ she says.
‘This whole thing is stupid.’
Her eyes flick to mine. ‘I’m not disagreeing, but you know what I mean. Running. Shouting. Trying to steal my keys. Making a break for it.’
‘You think I’d get far?’
‘Roman.’ My name in her mouth still sends crazy little threads of something wild through me.
The reminder of her moaning my name hits me like a poisoned dart.
Unavoidably taking hold in my veins despite my hatred for the way it affects me.
‘This isn’t London. This isn’t even… normal Scotland.
It’s a world unto itself. They’ll see you before you get ten feet. ’
‘They?’
The way she said it makes my skin prickle.
I look out the window, scanning the thick trees that seem to stretch in all directions. The dense vegetation makes me uneasy.
All I can do is try to rationalise to alleviate my growing panic. Maggie is a liar. Maggie is a panicky mess who got in over her head and is trying to scare me into compliance. Maggie baked me drugged biscuits and dragged me down concrete stairs like a sack of bloody potatoes.
We round a bend, and the drive widens to expose a Gothic mansion. The house appears slowly, and doesn’t seem to end.
It’s massive. Dramatic with spires and turrets and darkly framed windows. Within the dark, gold glows, which should make it look inviting. It doesn’t. It looks like a lurking monster just waiting for me to climb into its mouth.
‘Jesus,’ I mutter.
Maggie’s hands tighten. ‘Yeah.’
‘That’s your house?’
‘That’s my dad’s house.’ She says it like she needs me to know her detachment from it. Not mine. Not me. Not my choice.
The car creeps forward, tyres crunching like it’s rolling over bones.
‘Who will I be meeting today?’
Maggie sighs before shaking herself off. ‘I’ll point them out before we go in. We’ve always been a greet-at-the-door kind of family.’
I feel like I’ve stepped into a nature documentary. And here we see the Hamiltons in their natural habitat, smiling politely while deciding how to divvy up their prey.
Maggie pulls the car to a stop as figures appear on the steps, backlit by the open door. Tall, elegant silhouettes.
I shudder.
‘Got your height from your mother, I guess?’ I try to throw some levity into our situation while my heartbeat thuds in my throat.
Maggie leans slightly toward the windscreen, nodding at the nearest figure. ‘Aren’t you just a barrel of laughs? Anyway...The redhead is my sister Eliza; she’s the middle sibling and lovely. My best friend. But also absolutely ruthless. I’d recommend staying on her good side.’
I follow her gaze. Eliza is hot. The kind of hot that makes men somewhat afraid. As the family comes into focus, I see that she’s smiling. Looking like butter wouldn’t melt.
‘She looks like she’d poison my drink and tell me a bedtime story while I choke.’
Maggie laughs. ‘She wouldn’t read a story to you. She’d sit there and mock the way you gasp.’
An older woman stands beside Eliza, silver-blonde hair swept back into a neat knot, and a Stepford Wife measured expression.
‘That’s Priscilla,’ Maggie says. ‘Dad’s… fiancée and the bride to be.’
Priscilla’s smile is soft and gracious. A perfect face for hosting dinners and galas.
‘And does she go killing people?’
‘Not as far as I’m aware. Her husband did. Before he died. Her son’s still involved. He’ll get here tomorrow.’
Fantastic, more supposed death bringers to party with.
Then a man steps forward, sliding his arm around Priscilla. Broad-shouldered and tall, his dark hair peppered with grey.
He looks surprisingly normal.
They all do.
‘That’s my dad, Evan.’ Her voice catches on the name like it’s a tough piece of beef.
He looks like the kind of man who’d ask you how your drive was and warn you about the black ice being a death trap. Five times. Then drag you to the pub and buy you enough rounds to get you sozzled while telling endless filthy jokes. He does not look like the kind of man who raises murder children.
I jump when a flurry of black feathers crashes against the windscreen.
‘What the—’
A huge black crow sits on the bonnet, turning its focus on Maggie and me. It stares directly at me with one eye.
It only has one.
The empty socket is ugly and raw, but the healthy eye is sharp and quick.
‘That’s Coffin.’
The bird has a name?
‘Wait, is it a pet?’
The crow taps the glass with its beak.
‘Kind of. We don’t exactly own him, but he’s been around for a long time. It must be nearly a decade. He sleeps in the eaves, I think.’
‘Why is he called Coffin?’
‘Because my brother named him when he was a stupid preteen,’ Maggie says. ‘And because he likes eyes.’
The crow leans closer.
‘Whose eyes?’
Maggie shrugs. ‘I don’t think he’s particularly fussy.’
The crow caws loudly right at me, then flaps off into the cloudy sky.
I need to escape.
Maggie is already opening her door, stepping out as if everything is fine. When it’s anything but fine. ‘Please, please don’t do anything stupid. I’m begging you.’
I follow her, with my arse clenching. The alternative is sitting alone in the car in front of the murder mansion while a one-eyed crow decides whether my retinas would make a good snack.
Cold air hits my face, icy winter wrapping around me. It smells like damp forests and smoky log fires. It might even be nice if it were in another scenario.
Maggie closes her door and pulls her shoulders back. She’s putting on a brave face. And it breaks me a little. I know that mask, I wear it all the time.
‘Smile,’ she whispers. ‘Please. Just… smile.’
I try.
Eliza descends the steps first, pausing on the bottom step so that she doesn’t have to stand on the gravel. Maggie stops in front of her and pulls her in tight while kissing her cheeks.
Then her narrowed gaze slides to me.
I feel like I’m being assessed.
‘Roman,’ Maggie says, voice weirdly peppy. ‘This is Eliza. My sister.’
Eliza extends her hand. Not a hint of red. Her grip is firm, almost business-like.
‘Lovely to meet you,’ she says. Her soft Scottish lilt is much like Maggie’s, charmingly sweet. ‘Maggie’s told us so much about you.’
I look sideways at Maggie, who has the decency to furiously blush. ‘All good things, I hope.’
‘Oh. I’m sure.’ Eliza smiles.
‘Welcome,’ Priscilla says, lightly touching my arm. ‘You must be exhausted after such a long drive.’
‘Maggie shouldered the driving.’ Because she had me tied to the door.
Then Evan reaches me. Although I’m not exactly meeting the parents in any traditional sense of the phrase, I feel sick.
Up close, he’s even more normal. Just looks like every other older Scottish guy I’ve met. Which isn’t many, to be fair.
He offers his hand. I shake it.
‘Roman,’ he says warmly. ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet the other man in Maggie’s life; she’s been keeping you all to herself for far too long.’
His gaze holds mine just a beat too long.
‘Thank you for having me,’ I say.
He turns his head slightly, as if he’s speaking to Maggie, but his words are for both of us. ‘You’re welcome. We do so like meeting the people important to our Maggie.’
Important.
Maggie’s shoulders tense beside me. We’d need much more conversation. Clearly, I’m not the only liar in our apartment block. Why on earth does her family think we are a long-term thing? Why do they even know my name if she just kidnapped me in a rash decision?
Evan gestures toward the open door. ‘Come in. Warm yourselves up. Cocktails await.’