Page 70 of How to Kill Your Rival

‘You’re properly in it,’ she says.

‘I have been properly in it,’ I say, ‘since the third week of St Libertines University, when she beat me to a contract I’d been cultivating for weeks, collected the full fee, and then lent me money for a taxi to get home. She has met me professionally, mentally and physically on every level since then. And while I’ve tried to date to make my mother happy, no one could ever compete with Eliza. No one ever will. She is the pinnacle for me. Perfection in every way.’ She was the only one who bested me at our university for the criminally elite. It still makes me smile to think about the devilish looks she’d give me whenever she won. Which was often.

Maggie stares at me.

‘This relationship has been on her terms since the beginning. I’ve merely been obeying her rules. Otherwise, I’d have married her years ago.’

Maggie puts her elbows on the table, covers her mouth with both hands, and looks at me with eyes soft with emotion.

‘Oh,’ she says, behind her hands.

‘So you can holster those murderous thoughts.’

‘Thank God,’ Maggie laughs, relaxing back against the seat. ‘She described the library expedition in some detail,’ Maggie teases.

‘Maggie!’

‘Very complimentary…’

‘Please stop,’ I say, feeling my face heat.

‘She used the word thorough,’ Maggie says.

‘I will leave this kitchen,’ I threaten.

‘No, you won’t.’ Maggie rolls her eyes.

‘Don’t you have better things to be doing than teasing me? You’re getting hitched tomorrow.’

‘Mmhmm. I’m gonna launch my bouquet right at Eliza’s face.’

Oh God. I can only imagine her reaction.

Maggie grins and helps herself to more toast, and we eat and drink in a companionable silence until the door opens and Eliza emerges.

She looks immaculate and not at all giddy. If it weren’t for the ever-so-slight widening of her eyes as she spots Maggie and me eating together, you’d never know that anything is going on between us at all.

Maggie looks at me over the rim of her cup and giggles at the awkward tension that fills the room.

‘Morning,’ I say, wanting to say a million more things, yet choosing not to lest I scare her off.

‘Morning,’ Eliza replies, taking a seat next to me. She tucks straight into breakfast without another word, but her knee nudges mine under the table.

I feel giddy, too.

22

ELIZA

Maggie’s definition of a no-fuss wedding is as no-fuss as they come. We’re not even in a bloody building. There’s a humanist, a hillside at the edge of the loch, and her hodgepodge dog with rings tied to his collar.

She did not mention Gaston, the ring bearer, in the brief planning, and I’ve spent the entire walk to the edge of the loch trying to stop the little beast from ripping the rings from his collar. Coffin’s been swooping the ugly wee dog to try and steal his shinies too, and I’m windswept and tired before we’ve even begun the ceremony.

‘It’s for the wedding,’ I tell Coffin. ‘I promise I’ll get you something shiny when we get home.’

‘I’m not sure he knows what a wedding is.’ Fraser shrugs beside me, being of no help in the great ring-protection escapade.

‘Shut up, or I’ll convince Coffin to take one of your piercings instead.’