Page 3 of Savage Hunter

Until now, my controlling mother has insisted on keeping me on the outskirts of her activities, but I’m twenty now. The age she promised me answers. This is the day I get to do what I want most.

Tonight, I finally get to see what is behind those forbidden red doors. I’ll no longer be the protected princess or, however my mother sees me. I swear, some days the measure of her coldness is based on her mood and if her new boy toy did his thing the night before.

I rather not think about it, but the truth is hard to ignore.

I pick up my invitation from my dressing table and run the tips of my fingers over the embossed gold letters of my name.

“Harmonia Primrose. What secrets will your mother reveal tonight?” I whisper into my empty suite, wishing someone would calm my nerves.

Change is coming for me. Something I’ve never really been good at accepting. But like it or not, I can feel the energy in the atmosphere shifting. My mother has been more attentive to me. Worrying over my eating habits and lecturing me on “keeping myself flawless and kept as a young lady should for the men”. Whatever that means.

I turn in the full-length mirror and run my palm over my shimmering evening gown. Buttery silk isn’t my thing. It’s too revealing for my tastes, but I have to admit, the way the delicate material clings to my curves feels divine. There isn’t enough space between the thin material and my body for things like a bra or panties, so I didn’t bother. But if not for my nipple coverings, I’d be flashing everyone more than I already am.

“I’m as ‘flawless and kept’ as I’ll get, I suppose.”

I’m sure my mother will let me know her thoughts the second she sees me. I’m just happy she isn’t ignoring me anymore. I refused to be shoved into the background of my mother’s life anymore, and she won’t leave me as an afterthought, barely earning her attention.

She views me as an adult now and not some needy brat who requires more funds for boarding school. Otherwise, why else would she have extended me an invitation to join her and the other guests this evening?

Truth be told, it’s her endless mind games that have me missing the loving embrace of my father and the way he tugged at my hair and told me I was his angel. The harsh contrast of my mother’s constant cold disapproval leaves me half frozen. Which is a freaking miracle, given the sweltering heat of a Spanish summer.

I place the invitation on my dressing table and finish the last touches of my makeup. A shade of scandalous scarlet across my lips highlights the blue of my eyes and plays well with the innocent white of my evening gown. I found it in my closet the same day I found the invitation on my bed after a day of sunbathing on the beach.

The gown wraps around my shapely curves and dips tastefully to reveal the swells of my breasts. A slit in the silk material plays over the deep tan of my bare thigh with each step. Matching white heels with genuine diamonds attached to the leather straps catches the light as I step away from the mirror and gather the matching shawl.

Warm sea air brushes against my skin and plays in the loose strands hanging artistically around my face. I cautiously step onto the balcony and breathe in the fresh air. I’m not sure what catches my attention, but I draw my eyes off the darkened Mediterranean to my left to see a light flicker toward the guest suites to my right.

I blink a couple of times to focus my eyes.

He’s here? He’s truly here. I’d hoped. Prayed.

Did he come back for this evening’s events? Is he thinking about me as he prepares himself? Should I go to him?

Goosebumps flush across my bare shoulders and arms at the idea.

I lift my face to the light of the moon, but I don’t find any immediate wisdom beaming back. Only silence.

Excitement bubbles up inside me and my nerves make my knees shake far more than I want to admit. Part of the reason I want to be included in the Primrose Summer Gala lies in what is behind those red doors. It’s true. I’ve always been the curious sort. My daddy always told me it would be the death of me, and I believed him, as most little girls do. But he never warned me it could lead to the second reason I covet my Primrose invitation.

Him.

It’s been a year since I last felt his warm lips on mine or glimpsed his strong, masculine form walking the halls of one Primrose mansion or another.

I used to think that our stolen moment on my family’s yacht led to his termination. I thought maybe a staff member had spotted us and told my mother to earn a favor. But my nightly walks revealed my mother sent him away on a job of some sort.

I have wanted to ask, but I never found the nerve to withstand my mother’s judgmental stare and cutting tone. What she has her bodyguard doing is none of my business, and she would say as much if I ever dared cross the invisible line she has drawn between us.

But I’ve wondered, dreamed and worried about him all the same.

In case I am not being utterly obvious here, I desperately prayed for a Primrose invitation because ofhim.

My mother’s devastatingly handsome bodyguard is the last person I should desire, but the stolen kiss he took from me for my nineteenth birthday has left me in a state of arousal for twelve long and lonely months.

I’m at my breaking point.

I know I should not want him or entertain fantasies about his forbidden touch. Or how romantic it would be to have him stealing into my room and taking my virginity while everyone else sleeps.

But I do.

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