Page 37 of Freeing Savannah

The older man stepped back, nostrils flaring. “If she fails to impress at the next few receptions, you’ll hear from me. And you won’t like what I have to say. You’re on borrowed time, both of you.”

He turned and stalked away, disappearing into the diplomatic crowd like a phantom of control. Savannah swallowed the burn in her throat, staring at the floor until Sawyer gently touched her elbow.

“You okay?”

She nodded, but it was a lie.

Because she had never felt so watched, so exhausted, or so unsure of who she could trust. Except the man beside her. She’d never leaned on anybody, but she felt an overwhelming desire to do just that with Sawyer.

He seemed to sense her thoughts, his touch feather-light as he placed his hand on the small of her back, sending a completely different type of shiver down her spine. Without meaning to, she leaned into his side. His warm palm slid across her back until it rested on her hip. Then he pulled her closer. “I’ve got you.”

“I know you do. What would I ever do without you?”

“You never have to find out,” he whispered before placing a chaste kiss on her temple. A sense of déjà vu washed over her. It seemed to her that she had heard those very words just a short time ago, yet try as she might, she couldn’t recall who had spoken them.

“Does it make me a bad daughter that I dislike him so much?” she asked, shaking off the weird feeling.

“Not at all. You have to give respect to receive it in return.”

She thought about that for a moment. He was right. Respect was earned. And the Senator had never done a thing to earn her respect. “You’re very wise,” she teased.

“Don’t I know it,” he shot back. “Forget him, Savi. He doesn’t deserve a thing from you.”

“I know. Doesn’t make it any easier dealing with him.”

“Well, I’m here now. You never have to deal with him alone again.”

Savannah managed a smile, but a quiet apprehension persisted in her thoughts; she couldn’t shake the question of how long he’d stay by her side. She was a job for him, after all. When the tour was over, he would walk away and return to his life. And she couldn’t blame him. Who’d ever want to stick around for someone like her?

Before Savannah could delve further into despondent thoughts, she spotted the unmistakable shimmer of Kandy’s dress approaching through the crowd. Champagne-colored sequins clung to every curve of the pop star’s figure as she swayed toward them, her bright smile zeroed in on Sawyer like a laser-guided missile.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the knight in shining armor. Doesn’t this look cozy,” Kandy purred, sliding a hand along Sawyer’s bicep with shameless familiarity. Then, before Savannah could figure out how she’d managed it, Kandy had expertly pushed Savannah away from Sawyer, smoothly maneuvering herself into the coveted spot beside him. “You clean up nice, Voodoo. Very sexy.” Unabashed, she confidently ran her vividly red painted fingernails up his chest and then proceeded to adjust the knot of his necktie. Savannah wanted to rip her fingers off.

Sawyer offered a tight-lipped smile before grabbing her hand and removing it from his tie. Shifting subtly, he put an inch more space between them, then dropped her hand. “Evening, Kandy.”

Undeterred, she touched him again, letting her fingers trail down his sleeve before moving closer and shoving her breasts against his arm. Savannah fought the need to roll her eyes. Kandy’s moves were so predictable. And a complete waste of time and energy, especially since it had become abundantly clear that Sawyer had absolutely no interest in interacting with her in any way, shape, or form.

“You could at least pretend you’re happy to see me,” she teased with an exaggerated pout. “A girl’s got to work hard for your attention, hmm?”

Savannah forced a polite smile, her nerves still buzzing from the Senator’s venom. Kandy’s arrival wasn’t exactly soothing. Inside, she was seething. Kandy was everything she was not. Bold. Confident. Sexy. Who wouldn’t be into her?

Despite observing Sawyer’s reactions to the glamorous star, which screamed “back off, uninterested,” doubt settled in. She and Sawyer were friends . . . nothing more. It was foolish of her to wish for more.

She made a move to back away from the couple, but a chill traveled through her veins when she bumped into someone who stood directly behind her. She knew who it was even before she turned to look. His cloying cologne gave him away.

Henry Patrick.

Dashing, charming, and wrong. She couldn’t explain it. He hadn’t done anything outright, but every time he looked at her, it felt like he saw past her skin and into a place he had no business being.

And now, his eyes gleamed with that same quiet hunger as he approached.

“Savannah,” he greeted with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You were mesmerizing tonight. The Rudolfinum might never recover.”

“Thank you,” she said, forcing composure into her voice and folding her hands in front of her so he wouldn’t try to take them.

He leaned in slightly, his voice lower. “You should let me take you out while we’re in Prague. A nightcap? Something a little more private than these . . . stiff receptions.”

“I’m tired,” she said quickly. “Big day tomorrow.”

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