An Heir for the World's Richest Man, page 7
His eyes narrowed as he rounded his desk to perch on the edge. Her pulse skipped erratically at the sight of his thighs bunching beneath his tailored trousers.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. Let’s chalk it under a lapse of judgement.’
His lips compressed and his nostrils thinned as he inhaled. ‘How magnanimous of you,’ he drawled.
Dragging her gaze from the enthralling sight, she cleared her throat. ‘If there’s nothing else, I have a meeting in three minutes.’
He scowled. ‘What meeting?’
‘The executive assistants’ meeting. It’s scheduled in sync with your call.’
‘Cancel it,’ he growled.
She shook her head. ‘I’ve cancelled it three times already. As head of the executives I can’t not turn up.’
For the longest time, he didn’t answer, his eyes lingering on her. Then abruptly he stood and returned to his desk.
Saffie started to walk away but then paused.
‘Joao?’
‘Hmm?’ His gaze was hooded as it lingered on her.
‘Were the Silverton team really not ready?’
A look very much like chagrin flashed across his face. ‘They spent too long trying to get the projector to start the presentation. I grew impatient.’
‘By too long, you mean ten seconds, possibly less?’
He clawed his fingers through his dishevelled hair. The action was so sexy, she forced her gaze away before she made a fool of herself by drooling. ‘Perhaps. The other reason I wanted you in here is because I want your input on Silverton. He’s hiding something, I’m not exactly sure what. But, of course, if you need to attend your meeting...’
Slowly, Saffie retraced her steps. Leaning forward, she picked up his phone and dialled the familiar number. ‘Hello, Mr Oliviera?’
‘No, Justine, it’s Saffie. Something’s come up. I won’t make the meeting. No, don’t cancel it. You can take it for me. Send me the notes when you’re done.’
‘Oh. Okay. If you’re sure?’
‘I’m sure. Thanks.’
She hung up and met Joao’s gaze. ‘There. That’s taken care of.’
Whisky-gold eyes stayed locked on hers for a long moment then an expression crossed his face. It was hard. Bitter. Enough to make her stomach tense. ‘Obrigado.’
‘What exactly do you want me to watch out for?’ she asked, desperate to stop her mind from searching for reasons behind that look.
‘I’m not sure, but, whatever it is, I will get to the bottom of it.’ The grit coating the words made her wonder if he referred to something other than the Silverton meeting.
As had been happening far too often lately, her mind began to stretch, yearning for knowledge she wasn’t entitled to. A need to know the man beneath the outer dynamism and authority.
Why did she sometimes find him staring at the scar in his palm with a mixture of anguish and poignancy? Why did he always close his fist as if holding a precious memory close?
She glanced up and caught him staring at her, a puzzling expression on his face.
‘What?’
‘I think the Silverton team are ready for us now,’ he said with a touch of brittle amusement.
Her startled gaze dropped to the ringing phone. Face flaming, she snatched it up. ‘Oliviera Enterprises. Of course, Mr Silverton. I’ll let him know you’re ready for him.’
She hit the mute button. Without glancing at Joao, she pressed the button that lowered the videoconferencing screen.
When she chanced a glance at him again, the bitterness had receded, and he was once again the all-powerful billionaire.
While she was evolving into an unfocused mess.
She swallowed, vowing to restore her composure by hell or high water, as the screen flickered to life.
‘You’re better prepared now, I trust?’ Joao drawled.
Rick Silverton nodded almost fawningly. ‘Of course, sir. And apologies for the earlier glitch.’
Joao waved him away. ‘I am confident you will ensure it doesn’t happen again. Now, your report, please. Then the projections.’
Saffie wasn’t sure what made her glance at Joao then. His eyes were firmly fixed on her. And the look in them sent a different kind of sensation down her spine. The one that warned she’d just skated closer to the edge of the volcano.
* * *
They took off from a private airport in South London four hours later. Any one of the four bedrooms in the converted A320 Airbus’s vast, jaw-droppingly luxurious interior would’ve been a perfect place to regroup after a very charged seventy-two hours.
Except her boss had other ideas and none of them included giving Saffie a moment to herself.
Five minutes after take-off, Joao beckoned her to the sumptuous chocolate-leather-and-mahogany-themed conference room that also served as his study on board. On two large screens, several Oliviera Enterprise executives from New York and India were poised to give an update on several projects.
That ate up three hours.
The moment they were done, Joao swivelled in his armchair to face her. He didn’t speak immediately, an unsettling tactic that had failed to rattle her until recently. Until she’d become intimately acquainted with her boss one night in Morocco and now couldn’t look at any part of his body without recalling in vivid detail what it felt like to be up close against his warm, vibrant skin. To experience the unleashed power of his masculinity. To remember the feel of those sensual lips suckling her nipple, wreaking dark magic between her thighs.
Enough!
It was clear he intended to throw her off-balance, probably because of yesterday’s rebellion of leaving the office while he was on the phone. Well, he could try all he wanted.
Saffie cleared her throat. ‘Mrs Archer landed in Shanghai two hours ago. I have it on good authority, she’s thrilled with her suite and the presents we arranged for her.’
‘You arranged. Feel free to take credit where it’s due.’ The suggestion was delivered in a laconic rasp, his eyes leaving hers to trail lazily over her body, his eyes heating where they touched on her tasteful soft beige trousers and blush-pink off-the-shoulder cashmere top.
Too unnerved to look into those eyes just yet, she pulled her tablet closer.
‘We’ll have dinner with her at her favourite restaurant two hours after we land. Chef Bouillard has been given exclusive charge of the kitchen for one night and been apprised of her culinary preferences. But I’ve suggested he delight her with a few of his own signature dishes. Same old, same old won’t impress her.’
‘My sentiments exactly.’
She nodded. ‘Two more bidders have joined the private auction for the Shanzi orchid. That brings the total to eleven. Sadly, the auctioneers couldn’t be persuaded to keep it at nine.’
One eyebrow rose. ‘Are you losing your touch, Saffie?’ he mused.
‘It’s more like word has leaked that you’re interested and that’s attracted the usual upstarts who think they can beat you on any arena,’ she replied, then realised how sycophantic she sounded.
A quick glance showed a wider, more arrogant smile that irritatingly made her stomach dip in excitement. He rose from his seat, ventured closer until his scent reached out and wrapped around her. Saffie kept her gaze trained on her tablet, cautioning herself not to do anything stupid, like look into those compelling eyes. Or trace the back of the large hand that landed on the table next to hers as he leaned down to peruse the list on her tablet.
‘It is of no consequence. I intend to win at all costs,’ he rasped low and deep.
She shivered, unsure whether he meant the auction specifically or the Archer deal.
Winning was everything to him. And yet, something in his demeanour blared alarm to her brain. One she couldn’t decipher when he stood this close to her. When she felt as if he could hear her every heartbeat.
She really needed to get herself together.
She pulled up the next item on the agenda. ‘The investigators sent the latest report on Pueblo Oliviera.’
The hand next to hers curled on the table and a different sort of tension seized his frame. This time, Saffie couldn’t stop herself from looking up.
A hard, cynical mask stared back at her. But this close, within the depths of his eyes she saw something else. Ferocious, supremely intimate purpose. The kind birthed through whispered vows made in chilling darkness. The kind she’d made to herself when despair had held her in its tightest grip. When deepest yearnings had risen to the fore and threatened to consume her alive.
It was on one of those dark nights that she’d sworn she would never remain alone, that she would fulfil her promise to her foster mother and surround herself with a family, even if it was a family of two, and put the desolate solitude and heartache she’d suffered as a child behind her.
Pueblo Oliviera.
Even though she’d suspected, she’d never asked Joao for confirmation. From the naked flames leaping in his eyes, now wasn’t a good time either.
And yet...a small voice called to her, urged her to probe.
‘He’s your father, isn’t he?’
‘A biological donor I had the dubious honour of being named after, sim,’ he replied with a harsh rasp.
She’d done an Internet search early on in her role when she’d spotted the confidential memos on the man. Pueblo was rich and influential. Nowhere in his son’s league, of course, but with enough clout in the business world to go after the same deals Joao did.
It hadn’t taken long to recognise the brutal rivalry between the two men. Rivalry that went beyond mutual business interests.
‘Do you two speak?’
He laughed bitterly. ‘Sim, we do. Through the profit-and-loss score board. Specifically, my profits, his losses.’
‘Why?’ She didn’t need to elaborate.
His eyes hardened and she held her breath, afraid she’d overstepped. She was about to excuse herself when he straightened abruptly and strolled to the elaborate drinks bar set into the side of one sleek table. He poured himself a shot of Hardy L’Ete Lalique champagne cognac that Saffie knew cost more than most people’s monthly salaries. In another glass, he poured mineral water and returned to the desk. She took the glass and set it down, too frazzled to drink.
He downed his in one go, and slid the glass onto the polished table.
‘My birth was a mistake. One he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge. So, let’s just say I’ve made it my business to remain in his crosshairs.’
She gasped. ‘He said that to you? That you were a mistake?’
Hooded eyes met hers before he shrugged. ‘In certain circumstances, words aren’t needed. A child is aware of how its parents feel about him without vocal expression. It’s not a failing to admit you’re not ready for fatherhood and take steps to prevent it. I know that for myself. It is a shame he didn’t.’
A tight hollow pushed against her diaphragm, making it agonising to breathe. ‘You don’t want children?’ she asked through numb lips, seeking clarification despite everything she’d learned about him pointing to this.
He didn’t answer for the longest time. A stretch of time when something shrivelled inside her.
Eventually he shrugged. ‘It’s not a goal I’ve set for myself. Pueblo could’ve walked away from his mistake, instead he set out to make himself my enemy. It’s been...infinitely amusing to lock horns with him.’
‘You don’t look particularly amused,’ she replied, throwing herself back into the conversation so she wouldn’t have to examine why her heart mourned.
‘Não, not this time. Because he’s got it into his head that he can steal the Archer deal from under my nose.’
‘That’s why you’re so determined to win, isn’t it? Because he’s your main opposition?’
‘You forget that I’m first and foremost a businessman. And this is the most lucrative deal to cross my desk in a few years.’
Despite the reminder, Saffie knew that wasn’t all. Joao intended to beat his father at the highest level, once and for all.
Why? What exactly had happened between father and son?
Self-preservation rattled its warning again. She glanced at his set features and knew it was time to exercise discretion. To curb that growing need to dig beneath the wildly successful mogul to the man who...what?
Held the world in the palm of his hands with wizard-like ease that secretly fascinated her more and more with each passing day?
What good would come of knowing him?
They would never be in the same league.
For the next three months she would live on the edge with him. But after that—
She stepped away from the bleak picture stretching in her mind’s eye. She’d been up for...goodness, she couldn’t even remember. She needed to finish this task and head to bed. But before she could continue, he spoke.
‘Do you think less of me, Saffie?’ he asked abruptly.
‘What?’
‘Given the choice, would you not pay your own mother back for abandoning you? For leaving you to be cared for by strangers?’
Her breath shrivelled in her lungs. ‘You know that I grew up in a care home?’
‘Sim. You know enough about my life. Seems fair I knew about yours.’
She took a minute to absorb the news, to will calm into her racing heart. ‘I have questions, of course I do. But until I hear her side of the story, I don’t know what I would’ve done.’
‘But you must have imagined a scenario of some sort?’ he pressed, making her wonder if he’d done the same and been met with disappointment. Was that what had turned him bitter?
She shrugged. ‘I’ve been through every emotion you can think of. But when it comes down to it, I simply don’t know why she did what she did. And...somehow I’ve learned to live with it. To be thankful for the time I had with my foster mother.’
His lips pursed and his eyes probed as if he was attempting to see beneath her words.
Unwilling to unmask the depth of her loneliness, she shifted her attention back to business. ‘Would you like me to read the report?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘Let’s hear it.’
She clicked on the document, perused the list of Pueblo’s activities in the past month. ‘His business dealings in Qatar are up for renegotiation next month. There’s a bid for six wineries in South Africa. An Italian cargo haulage firm has approached him about merging.’
‘I want the names of the parties in the Qatar deal. The rest he can keep. What else?’
She swallowed, a tad apprehensive about mentioning the final item. ‘Lavinia Archer has an appointment with him next Monday in San Francisco.’
His smile was chilling. ‘She won’t be taking that meeting.’
The sheer arrogance of that statement was thrilling and frightening. ‘May I ask why you’re so confident?’
He sauntered around the table, sure and agile, self-assured and, oh, so sexy. ‘Because we will be making plans to take Lavinia to Brazil.’
‘But...Brazil wasn’t on the agenda.’
Joao tugged the tablet out of her nerveless hands, tossed it on the table before drawing her chair firmly back from the conference table. ‘It wasn’t five minutes ago. Now it is.’
With a neat little flick of his hand, he swivelled her to face him. The solid column of his body threatened to trip her senses. ‘I... Okay. Would you like me to—?’
‘I think I’ve slave-driven you enough for one day. I’m not inclined to give you another excuse for a repeat of Monday’s performance.’
His fingers tightened over the leather and Saffie couldn’t look away from his hands. It was almost as if he held her. Heat flooded through her system, concentrating between her legs with a vivid insistence that made her stomach clench. ‘In that case, I think we should head to bed.’
His gaze grew hot and hooded, his hands sliding down the side of the chair, drawing inexorably closer to where her arms rested on the cushion. ‘Or...at least, I should,’ she clarified hastily.
‘Ah, sim. Your fragile humanity is rearing its head again? I believe this is where my supposed immortality dictates I should press on?’ he rasped in deep, sexy tones.
Saffie flushed, angled her body away from him and hopped to her feet. When she’d put a few much-needed feet between them, she cleared her throat. ‘Are you incapable of letting anything go?’
A peculiar light intensified the gold in his eyes. ‘Apparently not.’
‘If you expect me to apologise—’
His lips parted, the hint of a rare smile lightening his features, throwing her insides into chaos. ‘And miss the chance to hold it over your head for the foreseeable future? Why would I do that?’
Saffie shook her head, more to clear it than anything else. ‘You should go to bed. We need to sync our body clocks with Shanghai time.’
Whisky-gold eyes narrowed. ‘You’re also uncharacteristically skittish. Would you care to explain why?’
‘Perhaps because I’m exhausted?’
He moved towards her. When his hands descended on either side of her hips, and he leaned in, she stopped breathing. ‘You thrive on the work I give you, Saffie. This is something else.’
A shower of shivers rained over her as his gaze pinned her in place. ‘It’s nothing but exhaustion. Now, if you don’t mind?’
‘I do mind. You’re not planning on another skirmish, are you? Because I warn you, my patience isn’t infinite.’
She barely stopped herself from snorting. ‘Tell me about it,’ she said under her breath. He heard it. And grasped her chin to tilt her gaze to his. When she met his eyes, there was a hard glint within, one that sent awareness racing down her spine. For the longest time, he stared, hard and deep, probing beneath her skin.
‘It’s too late for regrets, Saffie. I hope you’re aware of this and don’t intend to disappoint me by reneging.’
