The car smelled like leather and expensive cologne. Emily sat in the passenger seat, hands folded neatly in her lap, watching the city blur past the tinted windows.
Richard drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gear shift. He looked relaxed, almost bored, but Emily had learned long ago that the most dangerous people were the ones who looked the most at ease.
"You're quiet," Richard said after a while, glancing at her with a lazy smile. "Most people can't stop talking when they're nervous."
"I'm not nervous," Emily replied, her voice calm.
"No?" He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Then you're either very brave or very good at pretending."
Emily didn't answer. She watched the streets instead. They weren't heading toward the Blackwood mansion. The route was wrong. Too many turns. Too far from the main road.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
