Page 43 of Risky Match (Royal Spies #1)

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W hen I tell Josh that I’m done with Wimbledon, he insists we grab a drink at an out-of-the-way pub he knows. As far as I can tell, Josh is the only person who hasn’t betrayed me in the last few months, so I grudgingly agree. It’s better than sulking in my room, avoiding Bri.

The pub is small and dark with dingy wood paneling. Football plays on the TV. A few regulars sit at the bar munching on crisps and drinking beer. No one pays any attention to us as we claim the corner booth.

I’ve given up on my training for now, so I happily raise the pint he sets in front of me. Downing half the glass in one long pull, I feel a sense of relief. At this point, I seriously doubt things could get worse, but I might as well drown my sorrows tonight.

Josh says, “Mate, I can’t believe the story you told me. It’s obvious you’ve left out some details. What I don’t understand is why you’re mad at Brianna.”

Fidgeting with the drink coaster, I assess whether I can share more with Josh. It would help to have someone to talk to about what Bri did, but I can’t. “Unfortunately, the officials made me sign a confidentiality agreement. I can’t say anything else. This whole situation is beyond comprehension.”

“I respect that. But you said Brianna was faking her attraction to you. I just don’t believe that. Have you seen the way she looks at you?” He flutters his eyelashes, pretending to mimic her.

I almost laugh at his abysmal imitation, but my mood is too dark. “You don’t understand. She’s a phenomenal actor.”

“No one’s that good,” he says with confidence.

I smirk. “Apparently, she’s been trained by the best.”

I wonder if our encounter two years ago was part of a mission too. I don’t even know how long she’s been a spy.

Josh leans forward. “Blake, quit ripping up that poor coaster and look at me. Does it really matter what Bri did when you still have the chance to take home the Wimbledon mixed doubles title?”

Between clenched teeth, I explain, “I don’t want to be anywhere near her. She’ll screw me over again.”

Truthfully, I’m not sure what else she could do now—other than try to convince me things between us were real. Is that what I’m afraid of—that I’ll fall for her story again?

Resting his chin on his palm, Josh furrows his brows. “I see. Your plan is to screw her over first by not showing up.”

“Exactly,” I say, downing the rest of my pint, avoiding his stare.

His face hardens. “You two would probably lose anyway. But if you show up, you’d at least get the prize money. Otherwise, you’re going to forfeit quite a bit.”

I clench my fists. How dare he insinuate that we’d lose? We made a great doubles team. We’re quite capable of winning this tournament. But I’ll be damned if I’ll defend Bri to Josh. Instead, I seize on the other half of what he said.

“Why does everyone think I need more money? I’m a multimillionaire.”

Palms up, he says, “It’s not about what you need. It’s about business. Who would walk away from that kind of money over a disagreement with your partner. You’re guaranteed the second-place money if you merely show up and play. You don’t even have to talk to Brianna.”

Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that. I admit, “That’s true. I could physically show up and ignore her. She can go fuck herself for all I care.”

Josh slaps me on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

Before I can respond, his phone dings with an incoming message.

“Oh no!” he groans.

“What is it?”

“You’ll never believe this. Your parents are having dinner with Bri and her parents. They’re all at the house waiting for us to join them.”

What a great time to be at the pub. I don’t want any part of that shit show. “Let’s order another round and pretend you didn’t receive the message.”

His face twists in disbelief. “Are you kidding? It’s your parents, a former king and queen, and a princess. Are you really going to stand them up?”

I only thought it couldn’t get any worse.

Somehow, we survived dinner last night. I was able to avoid talking to Bri by being particularly attentive to my parents.

I have no choice but to play today, now that all the parents are here to watch. There’s no way I would disappoint my mom and dad. But it doesn’t mean I have to play well.

And it doesn’t mean I have to speak to Bri. To escape riding with her, Josh and I left the house four hours prior to the match. We spent the first two hours eating breakfast and lounging in the locker room.

I want to skip my normal gym warmup, but Josh is too bored to sit around for another two hours, so I give in. At least that fills the time and distracts my thoughts until it’s time to play.

With fifteen minutes until the start of our match, I walk down the tunnel toward the court.

Bri is standing at the end, looking around anxiously.

When she sees me, relief washes over her face, but she doesn’t have a smile for me today.

Oddly, that bothers me. Of course, it’s not as if I’m smiling at her either.

When I stop beside her, she says, “Thanks for being here.”

I nod, refusing to look at her. Being so near to her is confusing. My anger is still smoldering, but part of me wishes there were an explanation that would wipe away the pain of her betrayal.

In a soft, hopeful voice, she whispers, “I know you’re not speaking to me. Can we at least talk about strategy during the match?”

“Nope.”

“I’m really sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” Her voice is full of pain and resignation.

But she did hurt me. She destroyed my heart and my trust. I won’t let her do it again.

Our names are called. Without thinking, I start reaching for her hand but pull back before making contact.

We walk onto the court to cheers and give quick waves to the crowd. But the joy I’ve felt the other times we’ve played is missing.

At least this will be over soon. I’ll never have to spend another moment with Bri. That should be comforting, but it’s not.

The match starts, and I let a few balls pass by that I could easily have returned. Bri’s face crumples in disappointment.

She’s slamming back every ball she can reach. I’m not sure if she’s trying to win this match single-handedly or if she’s taking her anger out on the balls. She’s even running to my side of the court, attempting to return balls I should be hitting. She’s playing nothing short of great.

We still lose the first set.

During the break, Bri says, “I know you want to hurt me, but be careful. To me, it looks like you’re hurting yourself instead.

No one expected me to win. Granted, losing will be hard on me, but we’ve done better than I’d ever hoped.

I’ll be okay. Ask yourself this question: If you purposefully lose this match, will you be okay? ”

She’s right. I’m a competitor. I thrive on winning. And I’m starting to wonder whether Bri was as much a victim as I was. Hell, my heart hurt listening to her sob last night. That wasn’t an act.

In the first game of the second set, I start playing to win. I even exchange a few words with Bri. It works. We start talking even more in the next games and win the second set. A tiebreaker will determine the champions.

Before it begins, I tell Bri, “Let’s win this. After all we’ve been through, we at least deserve to raise this trophy.”

She gives me a quick smile, albeit a sad one.

We play our hearts out. It’s close, but the final shot catches the line. We’ve won.

Instead of hugging her, I say, “Good job.”

“Thank you. I know it’s not what you wanted. But you finally won Wimbledon, even if it is a doubles trophy.”

She’s right. Unfortunately, I lost the prize I’d decided was more important.

After the awards ceremony on the court, we’re invited to meet Princes Stephen and Adrian inside the All England Club. Bri’s family and mine are invited as well. This will mean the world to my parents.

We take photos, chat with the royals, and accept congratulations. Now it’s time for the famous pose on the balcony where crowds of tennis lovers stand below us, cheering. A chill runs down my spine. I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this moment.

As we turn to walk back into the club, Prince Adrian asks to speak with me privately. I can’t imagine what he wants, but I can’t turn down the invitation.

I follow him to the other side of the building, and we step onto a small, hidden balcony, away from the crowds. One of his guards stands watch at the door. Prince Adrian points toward the glass wall with a beautiful view of the ivy-covered buildings and bright-colored flowers adorning the paths.

The view reminds me of the first time Bri and I shared a moment alone on a Wimbledon patio two years ago. She turned a sad evening into a perfect one for me.

Unfortunately, Bri didn’t turn out to be the person I thought she was. She’s a spy. Seducing me was part of her job.

My mind understands. My heart doesn’t. It aches to a level I never thought possible. I thought she was everything I could ever want. She filled me with love and comforted me. Our passion and chemistry were explosive. It was real to me. Unfortunately, it wasn’t for her.

Prince Adrian says, “I’m know what happened here. But I doubt anyone shared the whole story with you.”

With my best poker face, I say, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I’ve merely played tennis here.”

He chuckles. “I’m pleased to see you take your oath to our country seriously. So do I. I’m not asking you to share anything with me. And what I plan to tell you falls under the confidentiality agreement you signed with British Intelligence. Do you understand?”

Every time I think the worst is over, I’m wrong. He’s probably going rip my life further apart, but I might as well get it over with, so I say, “I do.”

“Good. I probably shouldn’t tell you this. But someone I care about is truly miserable. From what I can see in your face, I suspect you aren’t doing much better. I can’t stand by without trying to fix this situation. I just need you to listen. Will you do that for me?”

What is he talking about? Surely, it’s not Bri who’s miserable? Regardless, I’m a loyal British subject. When someone in the royal family wants to share something with me, who am I not to listen. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.”

“I’m now speaking as Adrian, not as a member of the royal family.

Stephen and I were part of the intelligence team with Princess Brianna.

She’s also like a sister to me. She’s a good person.

She believed in you and defended you from the beginning.

One reason she worked so hard on her mission was to prove your innocence.

At first, we didn’t understand why. Then it became apparent that she had feelings for you—real feelings.

I won’t ask you to confirm it, but we suspect you two have some history.

If we’d known sooner, she wouldn’t have been assigned to this mission.

In the end, it made her the perfect choice.

She was determined to get to the truth. You may also recall that she’s the one who saved your life. ”

“Thank you for telling me,” I say, feigning indifference. Inside, my stomach is churning. I’m not sure how to process this. Did she really fight for me and believe in me? Is it possible that her feelings were as real as mine?

“You’re welcome. You two make a great couple. I hope you’ll give it a chance.”

“I can’t. She manipulated me and seduced me to gain information. I guess it was part of her job.”

“Oh. I see. You don’t think she actually cares about you. You think you were just part of a mission.”

“She’s always in the tabloids flitting from guy to guy. She probably uses her wiles in all her missions. The tabloids say she’s the...”

“Have you done all the outlandish things the tabloids have printed about you? Of course not. The tabloids are trash. She’s never become involved with anyone on her prior missions. If that’s who you think she is, you don’t deserve her.”

Realization dawns. After the betrayals by my prior coach, Noah, and Natalie, I immediately assumed that Bri was untrustworthy too.

But she’s the one who fought for me, calmed me, encouraged me.

Yes, she hid some things from me, but they weren’t things that caused me harm. Ultimately, they helped me.

I stare at the sky. “I’m a bloody fool, aren’t I?”

Adrian grins. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You and Bri are both lovesick puppies that need to wake up before you lose the best thing that ever happened to either one of you.”

My face falls when I remember my conversation with her after I learned she was a spy. “It’s too late. You wouldn’t believe what I said to her.”

“We heard,” he admits.

“Of course you did. Harrington lied when he said no one was listening, didn’t he?”

Adrian waves off my comment. “That doesn’t matter. She’s here one more day. If you want to fix this, you better put a plan in place.”

“I may need help.”

“If you promise not to hurt her again, Stephen and I will help.”

“Do I have any chance of fixing this?” I ask, hopefully.

“Have you heard the term grand gesture ?” he asks with a smirk.

“Yes. Do you think that would work?”

He shakes his head. “No. Think bigger. You need a royal-worthy gesture.”

“In other words, I need to apologize profusely or do something extreme to prove my feelings to her.”

“You need to do both, and while you’re at it, add in some groveling.”

“Understood.”

This isn’t going to be easy, but a plan is quickly forming in my head. I need to hurry and set the plan into motion. The first step is to explain it to Adrian.