‘I didn’t think he’d actually try anything while we’re here. Even Eddie usually has a little more decorum.’ Maggie lowers the gun to her side and relaxes her head against my chest. I’ve never even seen a gun before outside of the TV. It brings Maggie’s reality into sharp focus.
‘You okay?’ I ask.
She nods. ‘You?’
‘I’ll be better when we get back to the room.’
We’re soaked to the undercrackers, pulses going like the clappers, and exhaustion kicking in.
What a party.
21
MAGGIE
Back in my room, we change into dry clothes and sag on the sofa with hot tea and shortbread courtesy of one of the late-night staff.
My hair has taken on a life of its own after the rain, and I surreptitiously smooth it whenever Roman isn’t looking. My hands won’t stop shaking. I keep replaying seeing Eddie’s knife at his chest every time I see the bruise darkening his jaw.
‘We need to work out what we’re doing. About Eddie. And about Priscilla. About Dad. It’s all getting a bit much.’ I don’t know what else I’d been expecting, really. Wherever I go, a buttload of chaos follows.
Roman sits beside me on the sofa, our arms touching as we take slow sips of our tea. ‘I guess I need to talk to my dad.’
‘We can worry about it tomorrow. Talking to anyone tonight will be fruitless. It’s too late, and everyone’s been drinking. The door is locked, and there are enough people in the house that I doubt Eddie will try anything else today.’ Roman’s voice is soothing, but I’m not convinced that even he believes what he’s saying.
‘Yeah, he’d be an idiot to come up here. Not that I’d put that past him.’
I shiver in my pyjamas, the rain having chilled me to the bone.
Roman notices before I say anything and puts his tea down. He grabs one of his hoodies and tugs it over my head without a word, putting my half-empty cup of tea next to his. The material smells like him, spicy aftershave and that manly undertone that’s all Roman. Warmth cocoons me, and I shrink back into the sofa with a smile.
‘I couldn’t have kidnapped a better man,’ I say, grabbing a crumbly biscuit and nibbling at it.
‘Glad my captive prowess is showing. Hope you’ll give me a recommendation for my next stint hog-tied by some hottie.’ A dimple forms as he smiles. I want to lick it.
‘It’s all gone too far,’ I whisper. ‘I’m so sorry that I dragged you into all of this. You didn’t ask for any of it.’
Roman turns me to face him. ‘Hey. Shh. What’s happened has happened. There’s no point fussing over things we can’t change.’
It doesn’t stop the guilt, though. The guilt that I still couldn’t kill, even with Roman in danger. The guilt that Roman is here in the first place. The guilt that I’m letting him pleasure me after all of this stress I’ve brought him.
He guides me onto his lap, and I go willingly, steadying myself against his shoulders. His arms wrap around my waist, one hand dancing slowly up and down my spine, sending shivers of excitement through me.
Given a hundred years, I don’t think I’d ever tire of the heft of his muscle beneath me. The way his warmth seeps into my skin, even through our clothes.
‘We’ll get through this and be back in London before you know it. All of it. Eddie. Your dad. Whatever’s going on with Priscilla. We’ll take it one step at a time. You’re not on your own.’
The words sink in.Not on your own. My breathing settles with his soft touch.
We sit like that for a while, the rain tapping against the windows and his hand moving in slow, gentle patterns over my back. My head rests against his shoulder as I wrap my arms around his neck. The intimacy seems tenfold more intense than the filthy moments we’d shared. Lust is one thing, but this tenderness is a whole world more alien to me. It’s so quiet I can hear his heart beating in his chest. For a hypocritical liar, he sure seems like a pretty decent guy. Unexpectedly so. I’d known that he was hot, but I hadn’t seen any evidence of depth beneath that. But now? This man, whom I forced to my dad’s house, defends me in front of my family and foes, and looks at me like I’m not completely mad.
Eventually, I move enough to look up at him, feeling awkward for hogging his lap.
His face is close enough that I can see the tiny creases beside his eyes from smiling. The way water still clings to his dark lashes. The delicious puffiness of his lips. God, those are the kind of lips a woman could lose herself in.
He lifts a hand and catches one of my curls, twisting it around his finger before tugging lightly. ‘I love that your hair is as wild as you are.’
I snort. ‘It’s a mess.’
