Page 39 of How to Kidnap a Fake Date
Roman stares out at the road, jaw tight.
‘And you dated him,’ he says.
‘I didn’t know! Not at first. We met at university, and he was charming and attentive. Thoughtful. It felt romantic at first until it was all too much. Like being toyed with by a predator before it eats you.’
‘And when you found out?’
‘I ended it. Then he told me that I’d always be his. Which is a lot for any relationship, far less one that killed someone in front of you.For you.’
‘And you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend while that maniac is around?’
‘Kind of.’ I give a little shrug.
Roman exhales. ‘And your dad wants you to marryhim?’
‘He’dlikeme to, but really, what he wants is for me to stop pretending I’m normal and start pulling my weight in the family business.’
‘Pulling your weight how?’ Roman focuses on the passing trees, while I die a little inside with each sentence.
I hesitate. My hands are clammy on the wheel.
‘By killing people,’ I whisper through gritted teeth. ‘For money. It’s not like I haven’t tried. I’m just really very bad at it.’
Roman turns to me fully. ‘You’ve tried to kill people? Your father wants you to become a contract killer?’
He looks bloody terrified. Which is fair. I suppose. Not every day you get coerced into fake dating a killer. A failed killer.
‘Yes. But as of yet, I haven’t been successful.’
‘Do you want to be successful at it?’
‘Fuck no. I want to do my shitty little office job, and maybe get a dog. I can barely even look at my own blood without getting dizzy.’ I chew on my lower lip as he leans back against the headrest, his hands flexing beneath the zip ties.
‘So you kidnapped me, knowing it would be dangerous? Your whole family, and their friends, just murder people for a paycheck.’
‘When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound great.’
‘You are taking me to a house full of psychos. What if Eddiekillsme?’
Panic flares hot. ‘He probably won’t.’
‘Probably?’
‘As long as my family likes you, you’ll be fine. They’re not going to let Eddie ruin the wedding. We try not to mix blood with pleasure. As much as possible.’
He gives me a look. ‘That is the least reassuring sentence I’ve ever heard.’
‘I know. I’m sorry for dragging you into all this. Really.’ My breath stutters as I hit the indicator and turn on to yet another tree-lined lane. One I’ve driven all too many times.
I cringe, and more words tumble out because panic makes me word vomit like a beast. ‘I’m really sorry about earlier, too. The lap thing. And your hearing me on the other side of the wall. And the sedatives. And cameras. I know I haven’t explained that. I swear I’m not obsessed with you. I mean, obviously my behaviour suggests otherwise, but I’m not usually likethis.’
‘You did moan my name,’ he says mildly.
‘Don’t remind me,’ I groan. ‘It was a glitch. I know I’m pathetic, I don’t need any more reminders. My family have made that clear enough my whole life.’
Quietness returns as we get closer to my childhood home. It’s like the darkness seeps from beneath the wrought iron fences, growing inky thick with every metre closer I get. Stress bubbles up, and I’m beginning to regret my stupid, brash decisions.
‘I’ll do my best to play along. For the wedding. But you are going to owe me so fucking big.’
