Boats cut through the water like seamless torpedoes gliding over the surface of the Thames.

The men in them move in sync, resembling machines rather than humans. If a rowing team is the real deal, if they’re that ace, it doesn’t even take effort to out maneuver another boat. They simply work, unthinking and unfeeling.

That is how I hope my team operates today, like cogs in a well-oiled machine.

Turning back to the pre-regatta festivity, Ed is downing drinks in front of my face.

“All the Lagavulin a bloke could want.” He makes a refreshed noise as he sips the last dregs.

“Some of us are actually competing today.” I actually like having him here, though, for he distracts me from the race.

“And some of us are here for the free alcohol and pretty birds. Look at them in their floral regatta dresses. Damn, I love a good race day.”

He motions across the room, where a bunch of attractive girls in white and pink frocks stand chatting together. Ed’s right, of course, it is always uplifting to have something nice to look at before I row.

My eyes must linger too long, because before I know what’s happening, he’s snapping his fingers in my face.

“Mate, she’s not there.”

Annoyed, I pretend to pick non-existent fuzz off of my warm-up kit. “What?”

“The question you should pretend to ask is ‘who?’ And you know who you’re looking for. Nora Randolph, the family hasn’t arrived yet. Hey, did you really humiliate her in Advanced Math the other day? Classic way not to get the girl, chap.”

Ed is shaking his head as I think about the quiz in class last week. Who the hell knew that Nora was a genius? A full-fledged one too, as clearly she didn’t want anyone to know. She’d hid it, taking her hand down even though she’d done brilliantly on that horrific pop quiz Mullins had given. Why did she care if people knew she was smart? Clearly, she was more than your average brainiac, but who gave a piss about that?

“I know what I’m doing.” I wink at him, knowing he has no clue about my plan. “Girls like that love when you make them feel small, it gives her a chance to show me how tough she is. Gets her fired up, it’s like foreplay in a way. Outing her little Mensa moment just gives her another reason to push back at me. Don’t worry, she’ll come around.”

My friend laughs as he starts on another glass of whisky. “You’re a bloody wanker, but I love you.”

“Cheer for me, yeah?” I slap him on the back and don’t wait for an answer. I don’t need his luck, but I need to get down to the river.

As I walk through the doors and out into the garden that borders the Thames River House, a rare London sun peeks out between the clouds. The flowers and shrubbery are boasting in the rays, and I can smell the mist coming off of the water. I feel it in my bones, we’re going to win this regatta.

“Oh, excuse me, young man.”

A tall man walks past me as I step aside, the sun glinting in my eyes. As I turn, five people follow him. One of them being an elegantly dressed Nora, who is trying very hard to ignore me.

And that man? Bennett Fucking McAlister himself.

“Nora, nice to see you came to cheer me on.” I tip my head, the group turning around toward me.

Anger roils in my gut, simmering like poison around my veins. Of course he doesn’t recognize me, the arrogant prat. His smile, a polite and genuine grin, makes me want to rip his goddamn heart out.

“Oh, Nora, I didn’t realize you had a friend in the regatta?” Bennett beams down at her, his obvious adoration for his soon-to-be stepdaughter shining for everyone to see.

Nora’s face is half-hidden by a sunhat, the floral dress she wears clinging to her in all of the right places. How badly I want to unwrap the material from around her, get my fingers all over that skin. Every time I’m near her, my fingers seem to twitch with the need to move toward her body.

Nora inclines her head, those red tendrils glistening in the sun. “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily call Asher and I friends, but it doesn’t mean I can’t have a good time watching my first rowing race.”

The tall, redheaded woman standing next to her, her mother, I recognize from the papers, nudges her a bit. What she said was rude, especially at a regal event such as this.

“I’m sure my stepdaughter means no such thing, good luck today!” Bennett chuckles and whispers something in Nora’s ear as they all walk off.

She doesn’t look back at me, and it’s probably best that she didn’t. Or she would have seen how tightly my fists were clenched, the blunt nails digging half-moons into my palms.

Did I not look like her? With the same greens eyes and cheekbones. Could he not recognize the woman he betrayed and left for dead?

Adrenaline rocketed through my system, giving me even more fuel to kick some serious arse in the race. And Nora, she may not have known she was coming to watch me, but I knew that for the rest of the day I’d feel those hazel eyes on me.

Twenty minutes later and I’m sitting in my usual eight spot, commonly referred to as the stroke. Eye to eye with the coxswain, the seat is reserved for the most competitive, leader-driven person of the lot, and that has always been me. I set the pace, dictating to the rest of the boat how hard and fast I want them to be rowing. The position is only fit for the best, and once I’d started rowing as a child, I knew I would never let myself be anything but.

“You all ready to go?” Our coxswain, a rigid British twenty something named Peter who was as good as he was unhumorous.

We all nod in unison, and he starts his commands. My hands wrap around the oars, the polished wood firm against my clenched fists. I grip back, feeling my pulse thump steadily. Even in the toughest of races, I stayed cool as a cucumber. My adrenaline could be spiking, the need to win stronger than a ton of bricks on my back, and my pulse remained steady and normal.

“All four! Full slide!” he shouts at us, his commanding voice booming over the boat.

I don’t bother to look at the other boats next to us, with the similar rowing teams in different colored uniforms. We are going to win, I don’t need to intimidate or manipulate out here.

But as we get into position, my gaze slides over to the shore. She’s the target and my eyes are the heat-seeking missiles, they always seem to find Nora.

She’s sitting on a chair right at the edge of the dock, where a bunch of the royals and nobles are seated. As if she can read my thoughts, an eyebrow perks, and I can see a hint of challenge beneath her hat. Next to her, Bennett sits smiling out at the water.

Rage and the dare that hangs between Nora and I swim inside my stomach, sparking and growing into something bigger. A monster, one that sits on my chest and pounds like a furious animal.

“Ready all … row!” Peter whistles and we’re off.

He barks commands at me, setting the pace, watching the others as they fall in line. I speed up, gaining momentum, my muscles already burning. I should slow down, conserve energy for the rest of the nearly four-minute race, but I can’t. The unfamiliar look he gave me, the way she sat watching me from the dock, the pictures of my mother’s car being dragged from the water … it all mixes in my head like some kind of cruel movie.

We’re miles ahead of the other boats, the water kicking up in front of us, streams of cold navy through the air. My legs burn with passion, my arms with competition.

I don’t even realize when we’re past the finish line until Peter is screaming at me in my face. “Way enough! Way enough!”

My brain snaps out of its fuzz as the guys cheer around me, raising their oars and hollering over the victory.

And to my surprise, when I finally let go of my death grip and reach down to my wrist, my pulse is hammering harder than it ever has in my life.