‘I can’t exactlynothold 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 stoicgrip 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 anddarkly 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 mydad’shouse.’ 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 alsoabsolutely 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.
