An Heir For The World's Richest Man

He flicked that torrid recollection away before it wreaked havoc on his groin. ‘You seem so certain of the future, Saffie. What makes you think you won’t be begging me to let you stay in three months’ time?’

Her breath caught, alerting him to the fact that his tone had been harsher than he’d intended.

At his continued stare, she bit her lip just as she had minutes ago, exhibiting an agitation unlike her.

Joao’s attention was once again drawn to her perfect curve of slightly reddening mouth, to the small teeth dragging over her flesh. He clenched one fist over the other as more blood rushed south.

‘I know what I want,’ she insisted, once again triggering that unnerving sensation that had arrived when he’d read that damn resignation letter and felt the searing vacuum of her loss.

His teeth gritted but he saw no way to deny her. ‘Bom. Then you have my word. Now can we get back on track?’

Despite the telltale sign of her less than cool state, her eyes boldly met his as she nodded and quickly regrouped. It made him wonder how often his seemingly unflappable assistant had stumbled and corrected course without him noticing.

‘I’ll draw up the list you requested.’

‘Good. Did you like the necklace I commissioned for you?’ he asked as she opened her door.

Wary blue eyes met his. ‘Yes, it’s stunning—’

‘Now that you’re staying, I’d very much like for you to wear it when we attend the auction of the Shanzi orchid in Shanghai with Lavinia Archer. Unless you’re going to argue with me over that, too?’

She exhaled calmly, not rising to his bait. He should’ve been glad his EA was back to her unflappable self. But he wasn’t. Not completely.

‘We’ve reached an agreement, Joao. Things will run as normal for the duration. I’ll ensure your plate is clear and Lavinia is free to be in Shanghai so you can present her with the orchid, which will bloom, for the first time in eight years, two weeks from now. Was there anything else?’

Her question contained more than a spark left over from their encounter and Joao was almost tempted to stoke it.

But enough.

Now he’d put out this little fire of her intended desertion he needed to refocus on his father. Specifically ensuring Pueblo didn’t come out the victor in their battle to win Lavinia Archer’s business.

Dark anticipation twisted with bitterness in Joao’s gut. These days the man who’d fathered him might still call himself a billionaire but Joao’s was the Oliviera name people uttered in deference and awe. It was he world leaders turned to for business and geo-political counsel.

Joao knew it stuck in Pueblo’s craw that the bastard son he’d cursed to damnation, the product of a drunken indulgence with a prostitute one wholly forgettable night, had become a man of untold power and means. It was a status his father was desperate to overturn.

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