Maggie stays close to me. She’s playing the part well, laughing at the right moments. But I can feel tension rolling off of her. Can see how it stiffens her movements. She takes tiny sips of her drink, fingers tight around the glass like she’s trying very hard to remain in control of the situation. As if I might just run off mid-espresso martini, with limbs flailing like a cartoon character.
The urge to reassure her tickles me until I remind myself that she abducted me, and that empathising with your captor was Stockholm syndrome 101.
I can’t imagine what she must have seen growing upto do something so drastic just to appease her father. She doesn’t look like she belongs amongst the family.
Eventually, Eliza snakes an arm through Maggie’s and drags her back to the hallway. I follow. I don’t really want to be stuck with Maggie, but it had to be better than staying in the room. ‘You’ll want to get settled and freshen up. Maggie’s suite is ready.’
Suite?
‘You’ll be staying together, obviously… Dad had the notion that maybe Roman should sleep in one of the guest rooms, but don’t worry, I nixed that real quick.’ Eliza nudges Maggie with her hip and grins.
Maggie’s smile falters. ‘Eliza?—’
‘Relax,’ Eliza says sweetly. ‘I’ve taken the liberty of sprucing it up a little. But don’t worry, I left your favourite pillow.’
Maggie turns beet red, and Eliza raises a brow at me.
‘Not that you probably need the pillow when you’ve got Roman to play with… right?’
‘Eliza,’ Maggie yelps, shooting me a sorry glance.
It’s a good thing I’ve had a drink.
The suite itself is fucking massive. Why Maggie ditched it for a pokey London flat, I had no idea. High ceilings, a sitting area, and massive windows overlooking the front drive. The bathroom looked far newer and sparklier than the rest of the furnishings.
And in the centre of the room, only one bed.
Oneenormous, four-poster bed. All crisp white sheets and weird drapes.
I stop and look at Maggie. If she goes any redder, I think her head might explode.
‘Thanks, Eliza. It looks… lovely.’
‘I’ll leave you two love birds to it,’ Eliza says from the doorway. ‘See you bright and early for shooting.’
The door shuts with a soft click.
‘Please say it’s laser tag. Or clay pigeons. Not people.’ Our bags are already on one of the couches, and I slump down next to them.
‘Of course it’s clays, we’re not monsters.’ Maggie stands awkwardly with her hands clenched at her sides.
‘So, that’s the family,’ I say, reaching over and grabbing a packet of shortbread from a tray on the coffee table. It’s like a hotel.
‘Other than my brother. But getting him to socialise with the family is more difficult than getting me here. I know they’re a lot.’
‘That’s an understatement.’
Maggie paces while I crunch through the little packet of buttery biscuits. ‘We don’t have to share the bed. I can sleep on the sofa.’
‘Do you trust your sister not to barge in and find you there?’
She makes a miserable noise. ‘I can sleep on the floor, behind the bed. just in case.’
‘You’re not sleeping on the floor.’
‘Why do you care? I thought you’d be thrilled to see me uncomfortable after what I’ve done.’
Seeing her in that sitting room, stressed and fakingwith her own family, lodged some kind of pity beneath my ribs.
