Page 43 of How to Kidnap a Fake Date
Then her narrowed gaze slides to me.
I feel like I’m being assessed.
‘Roman,’ Maggie says, voice weirdly peppy. ‘This is Eliza. My sister.’
Eliza extends her hand. Not a hint of red. Her grip is firm, almost business-like.
‘Lovely to meet you,’ she says. Her soft Scottish lilt is much like Maggie’s, charmingly sweet. ‘Maggie’s told us so much about you.’
I look sideways at Maggie, who has the decency to furiously blush. ‘All good things, I hope.’
‘Oh. I’m sure.’ Eliza smiles.
‘Welcome,’ Priscilla says, lightly touching my arm. ‘You must be exhausted after such a long drive.’
‘Maggie shouldered the driving.’Because she had me tied to the door.
Then Evan reaches me. Although I’m not exactly meeting the parents in any traditional sense of the phrase, I feel sick.
Up close, he’s even more normal. Just looks like every other older Scottish guy I’ve met. Which isn’t many, to be fair.
He offers his hand. I shake it.
‘Roman,’ he says warmly. ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet the other man in Maggie’s life; she’s been keeping you all to herself for far too long.’
His gaze holds mine just a beat too long.
‘Thank you for having me,’ I say.
He turns his head slightly, as if he’s speaking to Maggie, but his words are for both of us. ‘You’re welcome. We do so like meeting the people important to our Maggie.’
Important.
Maggie’s shoulders tense beside me. We’d need much more conversation. Clearly, I’m not the only liar in our apartment block. Why on earth does her family think we are a long-term thing? Why do they even know my name if she just kidnapped me in a rash decision?
Evan gestures towards the open door. ‘Come in. Warm yourselves up. Cocktails await.’
The house is ridiculous, that’s the only word for it. The entrance hall could host the bloody wedding with the scale and grandeur of it. A sweeping double staircase curves upward with portraits lining the walls.
Creepy. The pictures give me the heebiejeebies. A whole procession of cold-blooded maniacs from the past, if Maggie is to be believed.
We’re ushered through into a sitting room. Plush sofas and heavy brocade curtains soften the dark walls, and the roaring fire warms my cold hands.
I keep my smile on as our small group makes stilted but polite conversation. I smile until my face aches.
When someone asks what I do. Maggie smoothes it over with easy lies and distraction. The same when we are asked how we met.
Evan chats, draping an arm easily over his bride-to-be’s shoulders. If I didn’t know what I know, I’d believe he was quite pleasant.
Maybe that’s how he gets away with it?
Maggie stays close to me. She’s playing the part well, laughing at the right moments. But I can feel tension rolling off 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 up to 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.’
