Push, pull. Burn, relief. Sink, stroke.

The ache in my muscles was one I craved, the mindless action of my body a thing I lived for. This was something I knew inside and out; an activity I was bloody good at without having to try or concentrate at all.

Although most things in my life were like that.

The coxswain yelled out commands, but I barely registered his orders. I knew the timing, the depth of the oar, the speed of which the waves were coming. My motions were fluid and precise, dead on with the other members of my rowing team.

I’d been in the water since I could walk, and the minute I’d been eligible, my father had signed me up for the only sport dignified enough to qualify under his standards. Rowing was a distinguished sport, an activity that could be viewed during sunny London afternoons where posh people watched from the banks and then enjoyed a glass of bubbly after.

“Rowing to China, eh, mate?” Winston, one of the teammates I’ve come up through the ranks with, nudges me with his foot as we continue to glide effortless through the water.

I snap out of the trance I’m in, not even having realized I was furiously putting my all into it. “Shut up, wanker.”

“Oh come on, you don’t need to exert that much effort, Frederick.” He laughs, missing a beat with his oar.

“And that’s why your family is just beneath the upper crust. An attitude like that will get you nowhere.” I grunt out the dig.

He makes a muffled, pissed off sound, and I feel ashamed for a minute. The slimy grief that sludges through my veins for that backhanded comment weighs me down, until it slides right off my back. It’s what I do, my method for everything. Bully, manipulate, belittle … I learned from the best. It comes so second nature to me; my soul must be as black and burnt as an ashen volcano by now.

The boat reaches its destination point, and everyone relaxes, ceasing the furious motions we were just completing in sync. My body burns, my calves and biceps roar with exertion. But it feels good, cathartic, to release all of the pent-up frustration inside of me.

This week has been a notch above hell, with schoolwork and my father on my back, piling up the demands day after day. The knowledge of Bennett’s betrayal, which weighs heavier on me each second of my life, pounds on my temples like a hammer. Seeing glimpses of Nora in the hall, in the courtyard, getting into her car … I want to approach her again but I need her to come to me this time. To seek it out.

I don’t linger to talk with my teammates, most of whom I don’t attend school with. Some of them have already moved on to university, and others are in different private schools around London. I head for the bathhouse, wanting the showers to myself before the animals descend.

As the hot, soapy water makes its way over my abs and still aching thighs, my thoughts drift to the plan. The one I’d set in motion months ago, to once and for all disgrace the man who’d killed my mother.

If it wasn’t for my father, when he was on the piss and stumbling around like a wounded animal, I would never have known that my mother died for any other reason than it was her time. At first, it was just ramblings. He would sit in his study at night, me as a child sitting by the fire playing with my train set.

“She was murdered … he took her … he’ll pay.”

As I got older, I understood what his knackered diatribes were about, the person responsible for my mother being behind the wheel the night she went over the side of London Bridge that night ten years ago.

Wiping my brain of the cobwebs of terrors past, I dried off and changed. I had a plane to catch, and it just so happened that Paris for the weekend was exactly what I needed.

Thirty minutes later and I’m pulling my Aston Martin onto a private runway, where a gleaming white jet awaits with its stairs waiting to take my friends and I up and away.

“How come when I get an auto, you always get a posher one?” Ed slams the door of his red Ferrari, which is too obvious for my taste.

As the steward grabs my luggage and takes it to the plane, I fall into step beside him. Patting his cheek, I find I’m in a rather chipper mood. “Mate, you haven’t come to that reality yet?”

“Psh, whatever. I’m going to see some French birds tonight and at least that will ease my pain. We better be staying at your father’s flat, that place is bloody brilliant.”

His pain, yeah … the guy had never suffered in his life. By most folk’s standards, neither had I.

“Quit being a desperate git … but yes, we’re staying there. Now get on the plane.”

We boarded, Ed taking a minute too long to check out the pretty flight attendant. I smack the back of his head, nudging him down the aisle. The beige leather and polished wood of the cabin comes into view, and there is already an entire bar set up between the chairs on the right side. Soon, Katherine and the rest of the girls come along in a gaggle, toting the stench of perfume and too-large handbags with them.

“Can someone confirm that Privé is open tonight? If not, I’m not sure why we’re even going to Paris …” Eloise rolls her eyes and settles into her seat, sipping the flute of champagne someone brought over.

“It is, my connection texted me.” Katherine waved her phone in the air. “Hope you brats brought your A game.”

Ed clapped his hands surreptitiously, and I continued to stare out the window. I was the least excitable out of my group of friends, but even I had to admit that there was something uniquely special about a night out at Privé. The ultra-exclusive club, literally meaning private in French, was so hard to find, you needed a special map and key to get in. We’d been a couple of times before, so I knew from firsthand knowledge that the entrance was inside a department store in the main district of Paris, with a key code combination. From the outside, the door looked like an employee stock room entrance, but once you were in …

“Hope we’re not too late to the party!” Drake walks through the cabin, and I can’t make out the person behind him.

“It’s just like you, mate, to bring an unauthorized date—”

I start to talk, but am cutoff mid-sentence when I see Nora walking up the aisle. Her scarlet hair is windblown, the white dress floating around her body sets off the peachy tones of her skin. She looks like some kind of country princess, and I have to chuckle to myself because she pretty much is exactly that.

“I hope y’all don’t mind, I brought a friend. She’s never been to Paris before, so we have to show her a good time.”

Everyone is silent, assessing the newcomer like she might bite. Nora chews on her bottom lip, and I find my cock lengthening with the need to bite it myself. It must be the hatred toward her fueling my arousal. Typically, I regard females like playthings, discarding them after one or two uses. I’ve never thought seriously about a woman in my life, and I wasn’t about to start now.

“Have a glass of champagne, new girl.” Speri holds out a flute and the tension seems to be broken. For now.

Nora sits down by the girls and begins to chat, about what I can’t hear. I’m too far away and trying to keep my distance. Like I said, she has to come to me. The plane takes off, the ascent seamless as the sun descends over London. I could shut my eyes and nap a spot, knowing we’ll be up until four in the morning at the club, but I’m too energized by our late arrival’s presence.

“I brought along the one you fancy, just for you.” Drake sits across the aisle, his button down rolled up at the sleeves as he leans over with a wolfish smile.

I don’t tear my eyes from the window. “What would make you think I have any remote interest in her?”

“Because you ignored her when she walked on to this plane. You always ignore the ones you want. You may not think I know much about you, Asher Frederick, but I see all.”

Annoyance tics in my jaw, knowing that he recognizes a tell of mine. So I play it off in my favor. “I just see those virgin lips and go crazy, you know she’s untouched.”

With a satisfied smile, Drake swills the dark liquor in his glass. “Amen to that, mate.”

The rest of the flight goes without complications, but whenever I look to where Nora sits farther up the cabin, her eyes dart away. Almost like she was watching to see if I’d look. Almost as if she wanted me to.

Oh, how fun this trip was going to be.