My Royal Surrender. Riley Pine

I’ve schooled most of the men in the Asian offices. I don’t bulge with muscles, but I’m strong, my body nothing like a frail model. Instead, I’m compact and confident. I’ve been training for years.

      I glance at X, who offers a smug smile.

      “Hello,” he mouths.

      I can’t wait to wipe that grin off his face. I’ve been going easy. Time to get my motor going. Pumping my arms, I up the pace. He lunges, trying to match me. He’s powerful, built for sprinting, but I’ve trained for endurance. I’ve got a series of ultramarathons under my belt and have conditioned my body to accept and even crave the pain.

      Might come in handy in the Lion’s Den, the little devil on my shoulder purrs.

      I don’t turn around until I’m passing Royal Albert Hall, sweat slicking the skin in the valley between my breasts.

      When I do, the path is empty.

      I’ve lost him.

      I should want to pump my fist, but instead I’m more aware than ever that I’m alone.

      Like usual.

      How I prefer.

      But I can’t quite tune out the cool wash of disappointment in my belly.

      Did I really want X to chase me?

      I start running before I answer my question.

      If I’m going to survive this mission, it’s critical that I don’t overthink.

      All I can do is breathe in and out. And survive.

      X

      Lora’s fast as the devil. I’ll give her that much. Secondary school may have been decades ago, but she’s stronger than she’s ever been.