Page 166 of Fighting Mr. Knight

The horn blasts for our section.

The two lovely mounds of muscle flex as their owner falls into a rhythm and I follow in quick succession.

My strategy must have been published inRunners Weekly. All eyes are on the target.

I chose his running shorts. After declining my first request for mankini bottoms, he conceded to tight-fitting Lycra shorts, which probably means Jack’s dick will make front page news during marathon coverage.

That delectable derrière will be mine tonight.

I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

So, 26.2 miles of this . . . easy.

Two weeks later

Bonnie

It’s funny how even the biggest things die down and become yesterday’s chip paper.

Besides Darren constantly nagging me to ask Jack about upping the budget before I orgasm, nobody seems to be that bothered about us anymore.

Nisha said she did me a favour by sleeping with Darren because there’s more gossip aboutthatthan Jack and me.

There’s only one person in the company it bothers. Maxhatesthat Jack and I are a couple. But what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. He started it. He’ll never say it of course, but his passive aggressive comments are moving more towards the aggressive end of the scale.

Which is why what I’m about to do feels all the sweeter.

I step in line with Max as we walk out of the Monday morning meeting.

His cold gaze meets mine. “I have one minute, Bonnie. Is this urgent?”

“That’s fine,” I say casually, keeping up with him. “Shall I pop in an invite in your calendar about handover?”

“What?” he snaps. “Handover for what?”

“Handover for meleaving, Max.” I look at him innocently.

He stops in his tracks. Finally, I have his full attention. “Whatareyou going on about?”

I feign confusion. “Did the partners not tell you?”

His eyes sharpen. “Tell me what?”

My mouth forms an ‘O’ and my hand comes up to my throat. “Oh dear! I’m leaving in three days. I handed in my noticeweeksago. I can’t believe the partners didn’t tell you.”

Actually, I can. I bet on it.

He freezes. Not breathing. Not blinking.

His face turns a deathly white. His mouth gapes and I resist the urge to pop something in it, like my pen.

“What the fuck, Bonnie?” he hisses and some spit lands on my cheek. “Are you serious? This is ridiculous. No.” He shakes his head violently. “You’re under an obligation to tell me. You can’t just up and leave without notice. This is negligence!”

“Max.” I smile sweetly. “Didn’t you hear me? Ididgive notice. I told the two most senior people in the company. It’s their responsibility to disseminate important information and put in place contingency plans. It’s not my problem if I’m not important enough to talk about in the boys’ club.”

I curse myself for the unprofessional slip.Boys’ clubslid off my tongue before I could stop it. Still, the look on his face is worth it.

“I’m not surprised Bradshaw and Brown didn’t inform you,” I continue, tipping my chin up. “Not because they’re trying to screw you over but because they don’t value my worth. I was always hidden under you. But that,” I say simply, “is not my problem.”

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