An Heir for the World's Richest Man

He smiled a smile he didn’t feel. ‘You wish to take me on in court?’

‘If you drive me to it, absolutely.’

Again, the absolute certainty that she meant it ploughed a jagged path through him. Something about the way she was holding herself, boldly meeting his gaze where others would’ve backed down, fired up a much different sensation in him.

It...drew him.

Otherwise why did he find himself standing in front of her, his gaze tracing the delicate lines of her throat, when he was across the room moments ago?

He smashed the sensation down and drilled deeper into the subject at hand.

‘When I said you were getting ahead of yourself, Saffie, I meant that we hadn’t exhaustively discussed the subject you just dropped in my lap. What do you mean, you’re not ditching your career? You’re going to work for someone else?’

She blinked. Attempted to regroup. ‘Well...yes, I am.’

‘Who?’ he fired back.

‘It doesn’t matter—’

‘Of course, it matters. Who is it, Saffie?’ At her hesitation, the churning in his gut intensified. ‘Tell me now,’ he breathed.

Her stubborn chin tilted higher, daring him in ways Joao wasn’t sure he wanted to discover. ‘It’s William Ashby.’

As competitors went, this one wasn’t a worthy one. Which absurdly infuriated him further. That she would leave him for someone significantly inferior businesswise... ‘I didn’t think you foolish, Saffie.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Do you really think I’ll allow you to take a position with my competitor, knowing what you know about my company?’

Twin flickers of anger and hurt darted across her face. ‘You think I’

ll break your confidence? After...’ She stopped herself but he already knew.

Wasn’t this a subject he’d dwelt on for far too long in the past few weeks?

‘After what?’ he taunted. ‘After Morocco? Or are we finally getting to the heart of this little scene?’

She blinked, shook her head, drawing his attention to the rich gloss of her hair. What it’d felt like tumbling freely over him—

‘No, we’re not. I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Well, I do. Tell me Morocco is not why you’ve dropped this bombshell on my day and we can move on. And no, we won’t be moving onto this so-called dream of a family or child because we both know you don’t even have a boyfriend.’

Fire sparked in her eyes. ‘What makes you think you know everything about me?’

Her spirited reply drew him even closer. He rounded his desk, closed the gap between them, felt tendrils of her light floral perfume wrapping around him. ‘You’ve been in charge of organising my life for over four years. That means I’m equally aware of yours and it isn’t that much of a secret, Saffie—’

‘I beg to differ or you would’ve seen this coming, wouldn’t you?’

Joao took a breath. This wasn’t working. For whatever reason, his assistant seemed hell-bent on this path. This unsatisfactory desire to leave him high and dry at this most crucial juncture of his life.

‘You wish me to apologise for what happened in Morocco?’

Her eyes widened, the deep pools of blue pulling him in. ‘What? No. I said—’

‘I’m aware of what you said. Just as I’m aware what women tend to say often differs from what they truly mean.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘Sorry to disabuse you of the notion but I’m not like your other women. I’m not hiding behind some nefarious ulterior motive. And while it may bruise your ego to hear the word no for the first time in your life—’