‘I think you should talk to Maggie. Forcing her into a marriage she doesn’t want, and a role she doesn’t want, won’t help your legacy succeed.’
He watches me for a long moment, unreadable.
‘We’ll see,’ he says.
TWENTY-THREE
MAGGIE
Despite the ladypummelling my cellulite with her thumbs, I cannot relax even an ounce. I’m stuck at the local spa, while Roman is at my Dad’s without me.
Is he okay? Will he take the opportunity to flee? Will Eddie seek revenge?
I left the keys. Roman has the chance to go. No one knows not to let him leave, despite what I told him when we arrived.
And who could blame him?
By the time we finally get back, stinking to high heavens of herby oils, my stomach is knotted tighter than a knot on a balloon. With my nerves, I’m just about as full of air too.
Please still be here.
Please don’t bedead.
Priscilla directs us toward the parlour, and much to my relief, Roman is there, looking cool as a bloodycucumber. Sprawled in one of the armchairs like he belongs there, cards fanned lazily in one hand and a whisky in the other. My dad sits opposite him, looking like he’s had a lovely morning. Cheeks pinker than I’ve seen them.
Suspiciously so.
Is it because Priscilla hasn’t been home to slip him some‘supplements’?
‘You’re here.’
Roman looks up and swallows. His eyes dragging over me with little thought for the people who surround us. I flush at the evident hunger in his gaze.
I’m wearing Eliza’s sweater dress, at least two sizes too small for me and clinging everywhere. It hits mid-thigh, despite my shorter height, with the way I fill out the material. My legs are bare, other than my Docs. It wasn’t a planned outfit, I’d dropped my clothes into a suspiciously coloured puddle in the changing room and had to borrow something to get home in. Heat pools low in my stomach as he practically eye-humps me without shame.
‘Where else would I be?’
‘We’ve had a cracking morning. He’s useless at golf, but the boy can drink, I’ll give him that.’ Dad lifts his glass, sloshing a little over the side.
Roman lifts his glass. ‘I have my uses.’
Eliza nudges me. ‘So I saw.’
‘Shush.’ I elbow her back to shut her up.
My eyes flick back to Dad’s whisky.
‘Dad,’ I walk over and perch on the edge of his seat. ‘Have you been feeling okay lately? You look a little different at the moment.’
He frowns. ‘Different how?’
‘It’s just that you’ve been a bit pale and you’ve slowed down a bit since I last saw you.’ I dropped my voice low. ‘Especially since Priscilla moved in full-time.’
‘Are you worried she’s keeping me up at night?’ he says with a drunken wink as Eliza and Priscilla exit the room.
‘No, but I’m worried she’s not got your best interests at heart. She’s always hovering around.’
‘That’s because she cares about me, munchkin,’ he says warmly. ‘It’s nice, Maggie. You should try letting someone look after you sometimes.’
