Page 67 of Lovely Venom

“Great,” I say cheerfully and supportively. “Is he home?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you out here?”On the floor, watching him through a tiny camera?

She leans in, whispering, “He’s busy.”

I play along. “Oh, okay.” I slink a little closer to see if she blocks the door. “I just need to see him. He’s expecting me.”

She stares like she’s trying to decide if I’m a rival assassin. Which I guess I am. But she abruptly spins on her heel. “Wait here!”

I watch her flit away and disappear into the apartment next door. Does she have a stethoscope to listen to Rhys’s conversations through the joined wall?

Shaking my head, I debate whether or not to just knock on Rhys’s door, but Fallon has already flown out of her apartment and comes skipping toward me.

Holding a plant.

“Here.” She thrusts a goddamn potted plant at me. “Put this in his kitchen, please.”

I look down at the delicate green plant, lush with round spiked leaves, sown into rich dark soil. It’s healthy. Thriving. Loved.

The fragrance catches me off guard. There’s something fresh about it, earthy and warm.

I lean in to sniff and then look back at Fallon. “What is this?”

“Coriander,” she answers, like I should know that. “The seeds are toasted and used in soups. I grow them and other herbs in the community garden around the corner.”

I blink up at her because she’s at least five-ten, and I’m five-five on a good day. She’s also stunning with curvy hips and olive skin.

Does Connor’s assassin make his own soups? I can’t wait to meet this guy.

“Um, okay.” I take the plant from her.

“See ya!” Fallon skips away and disappears back into her apartment.

What the hell was that?

Getting my head back in the game to meet an assassin who might kill me, I knock on the door.

There’s a beat of silence, and I feel the thick weight of Rhys’s presence even from out in the hall. After a slight shift of movement, I hear the sound of a male grunt.

The door swings open and holy fucking hell.

A man of at least six-foot-four stands in the doorway, his light brown hair pulled into a careless man bun, strands falling loose to frame the sharp cut of his jaw. It’s almost comical how gorgeous he is. Sharp cheekbones. A mouth that’s pure sin and a muscular body so strong he can break bones with his bare hands.

I question if I’m dreaming. This is truly one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen.

Golden eyes, the color of whiskey, peer down at my hands. And the plant. His expression darkens as he rips the greenery from me.

“Fallon!”he yells into the hallway.

“Your girlfriend is nice.”

Rhys whips back around to face me, his scowl nothing short of lethal. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “Playing it cool. Gotcha.”

Rhys gives me a slow once-over in a sizing-me-up-for-a-coffin kind of way. “Why the hell areyouhere?”