Just Breathe - Sample

Chapter One

Chapter One

 “Savannah Rae, stop eye-fucking the immigration officer!”

I peeled my eyes from the blushing immigration officer in front of me and shifted my amused gaze to Mr. Davenport, who was piercing me with death glares. This wasn’t anything new to me; being scolded by Mr. Davenport was something I was very accustomed to. In my twenty-two years, his tendency to reprimand me for doing anything unladylike was something legends were made of.

 “I need a stiff drink,” Mr. Davenport growled as he headed toward a bar called Blue Diamonds. He weaved his way through the arrivals lounge with a confident strut, intimidating those around him, and I had to rush, taking two steps at a time to try and catch up. I grumbled to myself. All I wanted to do was go and sleep off the imminent jet lag that was bubbling in me, have a long overdue shower, and eat copious amounts of comfort food. Did he not realize we had just travelled for eighteen hours straight?

I was about to start calling Los Angeles home. I was born and bred Australian, with a thick accent to match, but the opportunity to follow Mr. Davenport to Los Angeles to take on the role of executive assistant to the creative director of Beautify Magazine was almost too good to be true.

Beautify Magazine covered all of my loves—music, fashion, and lifestyle. Beautify had offices in all of the major cities—Los Angeles, New York, Paris, London, and Sydney—and I was fortunate enough as an eighteen-year-old to be whisked away to Sydney to start my first-ever job as Mr. Davenport’s assistant. I loved my job. It changed every day and gave me the opportunity to escape from reality. Some days I worked on fashion shoots, other days I was reviewing music, and others I was stuck in the office working closely with Mr. Davenport on reports. It kept my mind active and that’s what I needed.

Los Angles was going to be a whole new ball game. I couldn’t deny that the opportunity to relocate hadn’t excited the pants off me, but most importantly, it allowed me to run yet again. And running was what I seemed to do so well.

“Long Island Iced Tea, I assume?” Mr. Davenport asked. I nodded and took a seat by the large glass windows that gave me full view of the incoming flights. I had a faint idea as to why we were hanging around the airport, and it made me nervous as hell. Mr. Davenport was known to lob what he called a “to the point” chat on me when I least expected it, and I had a feeling I was about to be subjected to one of them. He was a smart man because he was going to get me at my most vulnerable: tired, cranky, hungry, and bordering on delirious due to impending jet lag.

The familiar ding of an incoming text pulled me away from my thoughts and I recognized the name immediately.

Sav! Are you here yet? I am so excited! Everyone is so excited to meet you. I tell people you are Australian and they literally start frothing at the mouth. We must have dinner and drinks tonight. Cannot wait! Love, Tanzi x

Tanzi had been given the official role of being my “Get Savannah settled into Los Angeles” buddy. She worked in the PR department of Beautify Magazine, and we had been in constant contact since I accepted the job. She was funny, witty, feisty, and adorable. If I needed to know anything about L.A., she was my go-to girl. A walking encyclopedia, as I called her. In the past month, she had excitedly told me all the places I had to visit, where to shop, where to buy amazing coffee, and where I could find guys.

The thing was that I had chosen to not tell her that I didn’t do relationships, and I hadn’t for the past five years. I was the one who was all about casual, no-strings-attached, emotionless, once-only hookups. I almost felt like I was allergic to relationships. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, I didn’t want a relationship, and honestly, I didn’t even know if “Savannah” and “relationship” would ever be spoken in the same sentence again. My friends called me a man-eater. That was survival to me, and that was how I planned on surviving Los Angeles.