Page 53 of How to Kill Your Rival

She makes a sound like a kettle.

‘The bow,’ she manages. ‘The bow⁠—’

‘I can’t wear this. James will see.’

‘It’s so big⁠—’

‘Why does this dress exist? Who would dream this into being?’

‘Don’t worry,’ she laughs, wiping her eyes. ‘I just wanted to see your face.’

‘You little fucker.’

‘Worth it.’

‘You’re going to pay,’ I say.

She waves at the curtain. ‘Go change. The real one is on the hook on the left.’

‘There’s a real one?’

‘Do you think I’d make my sister walk down a hillside in that? I might not be a fashionista, but even I know that dress belongs in another era.’

I’ve never been so glad to remove an item of clothing.

The new dress is the palest of greens. Simple, clean lines that hug my figure. No bow. Thank God.

When I come out, Maggie’s face softens.

‘Better than the salmon?’ I ask.

‘Much better.’ She looks at me for a moment before tipping her head. ‘I could always ask them to add a bow…’

‘Don’t you dare,’ I say.

She smiles. ‘You look beautiful.’

‘Right,’ I say. ‘Show me yours.’

The assistant brings the bag out, and Maggie takes it to the big changing room while I sit on the little velvet bench and wait.

When she emerges, my heart skips a beat.

My sweet sister looks sensational.

The dress is embroidered with tiny wildflowers from the flowing hem up to the fitted bodice. She looks like a woodland fae. Unreal.

‘Well?’ she says.

‘Maggie…’

‘Is it⁠—’

‘It’s perfect.’

She looks at the mirror, then back at me. ‘Do you think Roman will like it?’

‘He’d love you in a bloody binbag, but this will blow his fucking socks off.’ My voice catches, and my cheeks flare with embarrassment.