Page 57 of How to Kill Your Rival

He snuffles again.

‘I tried really hard not to fall for him. But he’s so damned hot. That dark hair and the grey eyes. That scar over his lip. I mean, what’s a girl to do? And he’s sweet, and dark, and has a fucking epic dick.’

Hewie snorts.

‘It’s all a distraction, though. I have very clear goals I intend to achieve, and settling down isn’t part of that. And someone is trying to blow up my operation and frame my brother, and the Death Council is being a bunch of absolute clodhoppers⁠—’

I stop.

Taking a deep breath.

‘Sorry to bore you boys with my bullshit.’

I dump the last of the apples over the fence and watch them eat.

18

JAMES

I wait until Eliza is busy helping Mum with the birthday party organisation before slipping outside.

She’ll be furious with me if she finds out what I’m up to. But I have to put my buzzing mind to rest.

The morning dew wets my shoes as I walk to the greenhouse’s outside door. Past the perfectly pruned roses and the hedges shaped like snowmen. The door is ajar. Through the old wavy glass, I can see Fraser moving around inside, bent over something at the potting bench.

The smell hits me as soon as I push the door open.

It smells like exotic plants and pungent herbs, the heat washing over me as I step inside. The greenhouse is dense with foliage, every stacked shelf bursting with green. Not just the shelves, though. The plants have taken over. Spreading from pots to cross the ceiling and trail onto the floor.

Fraser is at the bench with his mother’s journal open and a collection of dried plants he’s picking through. There are little vials in wooden holders all over the tabletop with hastily written labels stuck to them.

‘James,’ he says.

‘Fraser.’

‘Did Eliza send you to get me for more party shit?’ he asks. He’s already surrounded by flower arrangements. Massive colourful things meant for the gathering. And in the corner, one wildflower bouquet resting in water.

‘No.’

He picks up a seedling. Examines the roots and replants it in a larger pot.

‘The person who’s been targeting Eliza has been doing so from this house.’

‘I know,’ he says.

I look at him. ‘You know.’

‘Did you think I’d be letting someone go after my sister without looking into it?’

I haven’t really considered that he’d mount his own investigation. I’ve been so focused on rescuing Eliza that I suspect Fraser, but haven’t thought about whether he’d be trying to track down the instigator.

‘Have you found anything?’

‘Not much, but I’ll keep looking.’

The tattoos on his fingers shift as he moves a plant from one pot to another.

‘Why didn’t you tell Eliza?’