Season of Desire: Complete Edition Read Free

tell people what you want rather than expect them to read your mind.’ Before I can frame a retort, he presses a number and a second later says, ‘Yes, can you bring Miss Freya’s luggage to the garage immediately, please? It’s in her room, I assume. Thanks.’ Glancing back at me as he replaces the phone, he says, ‘Would you like to wait in the car?’
    I stare at him, irritation crackling over my skin. Why does everything he says annoy me so much? It has to be his attitude. It stinks. Everyone else treats me with respect. They can’t do enough for me. But this man . . . something about him gives the impression that, deep down, he thinks I’m ridiculous. I hate that. How dare he? My father pays his wages and he ought to remember it. It’s why I hardly ever call him by his name. What is it? Summer said it just a few minutes ago. Oh, that’s right. It’s Miles. Well, until he learns his place, I won’t be calling him anything.
    I decide to remain in the foyer as it’s the opposite of what he’s just suggested I do, but there’s no reading anything into his impassive expression. He simply stares back at me and waits for me to speak.
    ‘I’ll wait here,’ I say airily, and go over to the black sofa.
    ‘Very well,’ he says. His accent is Scottish, I think.
    Who cares? I sit down. He can come from Cloud Cuckoo Land, it makes no difference to me. He might be a little more good-looking than most – it’s impossible not to notice that he’s got those remarkable blue eyes, chiselled cheekbones and a strong square jaw, and that his dark jacket sits well across his broad shoulders – but he’s just another in the long line of bodyguards who’ve been a part of my life for almost as long as I can remember. He’ll be around for a while, and then he’ll leave, like all the rest. Only Pierre, the grizzled head of my father’s security, has stayed.
    I check my phone for messages. Another dozen or so have hit my inbox in the last twenty minutes, organising the complex social life that binds me and my friends together. Our playgrounds are all over the world and when we pop out for a girly night, it might be that we’ll need a plane to take us to our venue, and a yacht to stay on when we get there. We sisters used to have an assistant – Estella – to help us with our complicated lives. But since Estella became my father’s girlfriend, we’ve roped in Dad’s PA, Jane-Elizabeth, to help. We love Jane-Elizabeth, with her jokes and her adoration of very expensive shoes, and even though she complains about us like crazy, she loves us too.
    If only Dad could have fallen in love with Jane-Elizabeth, I think wistfully. It was secretly what we all hoped for, and it’s plain that she adores him. But once Estella arrived on the scene and made her play for Dad, Jane-Elizabeth didn’t stand a chance. He was entranced by the wide green Bambi eyes, scarlet pout and the pneumatic figure she showed off in tight dresses and high heels.  Estella. I hate her. We all do.
    The elevator doors open and a man comes out carrying my luggage. I stand up, one eye still on my messages. We all move in silence towards the garage doors, then we are in the vast dark room, full of powerful gleaming machines and smelling of rubber and oil. Our footsteps echo on the concrete floor as the bodyguard leads me to the black Mercedes, the model that we are usually driven in. Dad has explained the security benefits: it’s bomb- and fireproof, apparently, and heavily reinforced. Super safe.
    The door is opened for me and I slide onto the back seat, tapping out a message as I go. The interior smells of polish and new leather. My luggage is placed in the boot and then the bodyguard climbs into the driver’s seat and starts up the engine. I’m vaguely aware we’re moving, the powerful car purring its way out of the garage, then we’re outside.
    Great, I think, blinking in the grey light. In just a few hours I’ll be in sunny California. Free at