Page 62 of How to Kill Your Rival

‘One moment,’ I say.

I’m crossing the room without thinking, my heels clicking.

Here is the thing about being Eliza Hamilton. I have walked into rooms where the person I was about to kill was looking directly at me, and they didn’t clock it. I have smiled at people over dinner with a blade on my thigh, ready to kill them if a text comes through, only to be told what a wonderful dinner guest I am. I have been called charming by men whose fingertips I lopped off within the hour. My smile is as much a weapon as my favourite knife.

By the time I reach them, I’ve set that smile across my face.

‘Vivienne,’ I say.

She turns, her pretty face actually striking me in the chest. Is it wrong of me to deny James a life with her? Maybe she’d be a better fit for him than me, a woman who’s kept him on a leash for three years. Vivienne’s brows knit for the briefest of times before a sweet expression settles over her face.

‘Eliza.’ Her smile is real, and it sets me back. Rivalry and scheming I can deal with. But niceness? Well, fuck. ‘I’ve been hoping we’d get the chance to meet. Priscilla speaks about you all the time.’

‘Oh. That’s… nice of her. She clearly adores you.’ I hold her gaze. ‘She’s been mentioning you all week.’

Vivienne’s eyes flicker.

‘We go back a long way,’ she says, glancing at James, who looks thoroughly bemused by the whole situation.

‘I know.’ I step closer to James, sliding an arm into his. ‘Priscilla’s mentioned it.’

James stiffens when I press my thigh against his, my knife bulge digging into him.

‘It was a long time ago,’ Vivienne says.

‘Ancient history, I’d say. Priscilla does love to keep the past very much alive, doesn’t she?’ I smile.

Vivienne stares. James clears his throat.

The party guests around us don’t seem to have noticed anything amiss. Glasses click, musicians play, people talk.

‘James and I are just old friends,’ she says.

‘I know,’ I say. ‘Because James is mine.’

‘Yours? He’s your step-brother.’ Her lips pull into a frown as she glares at James.

‘He’s mine all right.’

James groans as I say it, but there’s still that smile playing on his lips. ‘Yours?’ he whispers.

‘Don’t make me say it again.’ My cheeks flush hot.

Vivienne takes a moment to assess the two of us. Her chin lifts a touch. But she’s smart enough to know that whatever she thinks of our relationship, it’s best she leaves us to it.

‘He. Is. Mine,’ I repeat with a low growl to the words. God, I may as well cock my leg and fucking piss on him at this point.

She holds my gaze long enough for all three of us to shift uncomfortably.

Vivienne squares her shoulders and slips a sweet smile back onto her face. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Best you do.’

‘It was… enlightening to meet you, Eliza,’ she says. ‘I’ll admit you live up to your fearsome reputation.’

‘Likewise.’ Through my oddly feral haze, I can admit to myself I’d quite like to know her better. I don’t have nearly enough female friends. The job doesn’t exactly make me likeable.

Vivienne relocates herself to the other side of the room in an elegant sweep of those long legs, and she doesn’t look back.