Page 60 of How to Kill Your Rival

Goddamn. I’m not into women, but if anyone could turn me…

She comes in, and she kisses Priscilla on both cheeks. The eyes of everyone in the room follow her. She’s all gleaming skin and dark curls, with legs long enough to break a world record. Priscilla’s face breaks into the sunniest of smiles.

‘Vivienne,’ she says.

The band doesn’t screech to a halt in reality, but in my head, it sure as hell does. This is Vivienne? James’ Vivienne. Holy fuck.

I’ve never needed to be jealous, but there’s no denying the spiky emotion bubbling through me. And yet, when Priscilla looks at her like a daughter, I want to tear across the room and destroy her. Priscilla has mentioned Vivienne non-stop for the whole week. Vivienne’s gallery. How well Vivienne is looking. How she always believed they’d get married and give her the perfect little grandbabies.

Barf.

Each mention of her has become increasingly more bothersome. When she turns to face James, it’s like the smile she gives him shoves hot coals tight through my gut.

It’s a smile laced with history.

With longing.

I grip the stem of my champagne flute and picture shoving it down her stupidly attractive throat. James was probably in her throat… No. Fuck, don’t go there.

Vivienne floats across the room and lays a hand on his veined forearm, leaning in to say something that makes him smile. She laughs at his response, and I’m two seconds from going over there when Maggie appears beside me.

‘The pigs have already been fed,’ she says, raising an eyebrow. She pulls me down onto the sofa beside her. Her G&T sloshes in her glass as my arse meets the chair. ‘Sort your face out, Eliza.’

‘I don’t have a face,’ I say.

‘You have the face you make when you’re about to eviscerate someone,’ she says. ‘And you can absolutely not string Vivienne up by her guts just for being James’ ex.’

‘Wanna bet?’ I ask.

‘She seems lovely,’ Maggie sighs as I down my drink and grab another from a passing server. On second thought, I stand and take his tray, placing it on the table beside me.

‘Very lovely,’ I say. ‘But I still want to chop her lovely hands off for resting them on him.’

‘You’re on your third glass of champagne,’ Maggie says, sliding the tray away from me.

‘Unrelated,’ I say.

‘You might be an excellent killer, dear sister, but you’re a shit liar. You’re jealous as fuck.’

She sips her G&T and watches James and Vivienne, who are talking and laughing like the best of chums. No, like lovers. Roman is across the room, holding Gaston and chatting with a group of guys.

‘Priscilla loves her,’ I admit.

‘Mmm,’ Maggie says knowingly.

‘What does that mean?’ I ask.

‘Priscilla loves the idea of James finding someone who loves him,’ Maggie says. ‘And she also loves you.’

I look at my champagne.

‘She’s been trying to get them back together since they broke up, and it’s gotten all the more intense with her arrival,’ I say.

‘And it hasn’t worked,’ Maggie says.

I look across the room again. I can’t help it. The two of them are like a shining beacon of sexual tension.

James is laughing and reaches out to brush something from Vivienne’s shoulder.