Page 81 of How to Kidnap a Fake Date
Maybe I should join the guys for one of those drinks. I need something after the morning I’ve had.
The main staircase curves upward to my left and down to the lower floor in front of me. All highly polished wood and ancient carpet runners. I get about three steps from the top when something slams into my back.
Hard.
I stagger forward, my foot slipping out from under me as I grab for the bannister. The world tilts as I miss, and then I’m tumbling in a rush of faded carpet and spinning walls. My limbs crack down the stairs, the repeated impact bringing blinding pain.
By the time I come to a stop at the bottom, I can barely breathe, the wind having been knocked from my lungs. I lay still, trying to orient myself, my head pounding.
I roll onto my side to check that I still can, and look up to the stairs where I fell.
Eddie.
Standing at the top of the stairs, looking like he’s the prize pig. There’s no rush to hide or wash off guilt.
If anything, he looks annoyed that my neck isn’t broken.
He lifts his hand and does a little finger-gun motion.
Bang.
I stare at him as adrenaline floods through me, intensifying the pain that wracks me. The absolute cunt. If there is one person in the world that I might be tempted to try to kill, it’s Eddie. Jumped up, entitled, psychopathic twat.
He gives me a mock salute and turns away, strolling out of view with a chirpy whistle.
A secondary whistle follows, and I spy Coffin perched on the upper-level staircase, watching me with that solitary eye.
Maybe he thinks I’m carrion.
Slowly, I cover my eyes as I focus on finding my breath, determined not to be a corvid hors d’oeuvres.
The wedding hasn’t even started, and I already want to limp back to bed.
27
MAGGIE
After half an hour of searching, I find Roman in the downstairs toilet, hunched over the sink and dabbing at a scrape on his perfectly formed abs.
Blood stains the porcelain in ruby streaks, not heavy, but still a shock. He’s got a wad of toilet paper pressed to it, and an unreadable expression.
‘What happened?’
His eyes catch mine in the mirror.
‘I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Well, get worrying me, because it’s that or rage. Who did this to you?’
The scrape is surrounded by an already blooming bruise, and I notice a handful more on his arms. ‘Eddie happened.’
Goddamned Eddie.
The way he winces as he dabs his stomach has me entering the room, closing and locking the door behind me. Roman turns, leaning back against the sink.
‘Eddie beat you?’ I ask.
Roman drops the lightly bloodied paper in the toilet and sighs. ‘Pushed me down the stairs.’
