Chapter 15 #2
I head into the room and perch on the arm of my Dad’s chair, where he smiles up at me.
When Dad reaches for the glass, I move to touch Roman’s hand as a way to cross into Dad’s space.
I clip his elbow with mine, and the glass tips. Amber liquid spills across Dad’s lap before splashing onto the floor.
‘Oh—shit—’ I blurt.
Everyone freezes as they look at another Maggie Disaster.
Then Dad bursts into a rich laugh. ‘Christ, Maggie, you haven’t changed a bit.’
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it.’
Priscilla narrows her eyes at me, and I quickly divert my gaze.
A staff member is already there with a cloth while someone else produces a fresh glass. Priscilla waves it off. ‘I’ll get him another.’
‘It’s fine, Darling,’ Evan says fondly to Priscilla, shaking his head. ‘You sit down and let someone else fuss over me. Do you remember the time Maggie knocked over the champagne tower at Rupert and Melinda’s wedding?’
‘It was an accident,’ I mutter.
Eliza laughs. ‘Maggie knocking something over is practically a wedding tradition in our family. Hope you and Priscilla have everything bubble wrapped for yours.’
Everyone laughs. Even Roman. I stare at the floor, my cheeks burning. I was trying to protect Dad, and instead I got made fun of. How is this fair?
Dinner is announced, saving me from having to sit there any longer feeling like a clumsy twat.
Roman raises his brows at me, and when I leave the room, he follows.
‘That didn’t look accidental,’ he whispers as we head through the corridor toward the smaller dining room.
I shake my head. ‘Priscilla put something in Dad’s drink.’
‘What kind of something?’
‘Well… I don’t know. She said it’s a supplement.’
‘Could it… actually be a supplement?’ Roman nudges me as we walk. ‘They seem pretty infatuated with each other.’
I roll my eyes. ‘If it’s a supplement, there is no need for her to be so sneaky about it.’
‘True.’
The dining room is set out for an intimate dinner. Glittering candles and pretty florals cover the length of the table along the centre line, the tableware gleaming in the low, flickering candlelight. The staff had gone to town, even though it was only the family tonight.
Roman takes a seat beside me, looking unperturbed by the indulgence around us.
Dad sits at the head with Priscilla beside him, her hand resting lightly on his. He looks relaxed and happy to have us all back together. Which makes my earlier unease feel a bit ridiculous.
We eat course after delicate course, each small but rich. Meaty game and tart berries, pureed vegetables beneath glazed scallops, and matching wines with each dish. Roman eats like a man starved.
Fraser sits opposite me with hunched shoulders, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he picks at his food.
While he may have been physically present at family dinners, he rarely took an active part in the conversation.
The mardy little sulk. He glances at Roman occasionally, then me, curiosity flickering.
Eliza chats with her effortless grace, holding court amongst the family as we eat, keeping conversation flowing.
At one point, she leans toward me and drops her voice low. ‘Roman’s doing well.’
‘Mmm, and why shouldn’t he?’ I murmur back.
She smiles. ‘Oh, I can think of a few.’
Then Coffin swoops in a flurry of black.
The rush of wings sends my hair fluttering, and the crow drops something dark and gleaming on Priscilla’s plate before pinching her cut of venison in sharp talons.
A beetle. Perfectly intact and very much still alive.
Priscilla looks down, then calmly lifts her gaze to a server. ‘Could I have this changed, please?’
The plate disappeared without comment.
Eliza glances at Coffin, now perched on the fireplace and tearing into his stolen meat. Well, fairly exchanged in his opinion. ‘You can’t say he doesn’t make a fair trade.’
Roman breaks into a laugh. ‘I love him. What a gent.’
Dad grins. ‘He’s one unto himself that one.’
Eventually, the conversation drifts back to Roman and our so-called relationship.
Roman steps in and lies so smoothly it’s almost unsettling, placing an arm around my shoulders as if we really are a couple. I guess his propensity for untruths shouldn’t come as a total shock. I’ve seen his videos. But I can’t say I hate the weight of his arm on my shoulders.
It makes my brain melt when his warmth settles over me. The solidness of his body against mine, the faint scent of his spiced aftershave, leaves me utterly tongue-tied. I lose my train of thought, and Eliza watches with amused interest.
Roman’s arm tugs me closer to him. ‘Alright, Princess?’
Heat pricks my cheeks at the faux-pet name. It sends quivers where quivers ought not to be.
‘I’m fine,’ I mutter, losing myself in a shameful amount of wine
By the time dinner ends and we are heading up the stairs, I’m more than a little sozzled. I trip over my feet, and Roman catches me before I faceplant.
‘Whoops,’ I giggle, before squeezing his biceps. ‘So strong. You must live in the bloody gym.’
Roman lifts me without answering, and I let myself relax in his arms.
‘You smell nice, for a hostage,’ I mumble against his chest.
‘Mmm, and you are drunk as a skunk, for a captor. I could tie you to the bed and make my escape.’
‘Or just tie me to the bed…’ I run a finger over his chest, feeling the solidness of his pecs.
‘I thought you were the one who liked to do the tying?’
‘Only when necessary.’ Halfway up the stairs, my filter gives up entirely. ‘I hear you, you know, through the wall.’
His steps slow down as we head along the corridor. ‘Do you?’
‘Like you heard me. Sometimes I even pretend I’m there. If I close my eyes, it’s almost like I am.’
Roman doesn’t say anything, so I babble on, digging my hole deeper with every word.
‘You sound like you know what you’re doing, with those other girls.’
‘Maggie—’
‘I’m not judging, I’m just jealous.’
He carries me into my suite and rights the candelabra I bump into before settling me onto the bed.
He sits on the couch across from the bed and watches me, his face unreadable.
I watch him through heavy lids. The sharp line of his jaw clenching, and those dark lashes analysing me.
I want to crawl into his lap and ask him to call me princess again.
But my limbs have grown far too heavy.
‘Don’t leave,’ I murmur as my eyes betray me and dip closed.