An Heir for the World's Richest Man

‘Watch it, Saffie.’

She carried on regardless. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. I don’t want to be your assistant any more. My life is my own. I can do whatever I want. You have my letter. I’ve been in touch with HR. As soon as you accept, they’ll get my termination papers ready.’

She turned on her heel, presenting him with the rigid curve of her spine that again commanded his attention to the curve of her hips, the tempting swell of her bottom.

He cursed under his breath. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ The arctic snap in his voice froze her in place.

Giving him the time he needed to stride over to join her at the door.

They weren’t done. Far from it. He needed her far too much to let her walk out of his office.

Perhaps it was their close proximity that made her pulse race in her throat as she stared at him. Perhaps it was because she sensed he was about to pull out the big guns, as he was wont to do when the occasion demanded it.

Whatever the reason, he watched her drag her inner lip between her teeth, felt the unwelcome sensation deep in his pelvis.

Meu Deus. He needed to put this thing to bed, pronto.

‘What?’ she blurted.

‘There’s a clause in your contract that states all future employers will be vetted and approved by me. Tell me, do you think I’ll let you run off and work for Ashby?’

* * *

The demand was soft. So soft Saffie didn’t feel the warm knife slide into her ribs until it was too late.

‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Because I wish to keep the best personal assistant I’ve ever had.’

There was a time when the flippant compliment would’ve lit up her day. Not any more. ‘I’m sure the next will do just as well.’

His nostrils flared. ‘You can have an extended vacation after we put the Archer deal to bed.’

‘Joao—’

‘I will get my pilot to fly you to any destination of your choosing. You have my word that I won’t ask you to return until you’re well rested and you’ve worked whatever...lingering discontentment you have out of your system. Whatever it takes to get my level-headed executive assistant back.’

Despite his more than generous offer, the words dropped like icy bullets from his lips, his body language broadcasting his extreme displeasure.

The intimacy of his proximity and the sheer headiness of his masculine scent sent heat blooming through her as he continued to stare her down, reminding her that she hadn’t always been level-headed.

She’d slipped and fallen from grace in Morocco.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, stayed and for a second she knew he was recalling it, too.

Then she realised she was full-on gnawing at her lip.

Her renowned rock-solid composure was slipping and, for the life of her, she couldn’t get herself under control.

‘I told you. I can’t stay here and get what I want.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘This accusation interests me greatly. Tell me on what basis you arrived at it,’ he invited silkily.

‘I’ve worked with you for four years. You might be progressive with your other employees, but I know, for instance, that the subject of families and babies doesn’t interest you.’

One eyebrow spiked. ‘You know this for a fact when you and I have never discussed it?’

‘We may not have, but I’ve been present when business acquaintances have brought up the subject. Your eyes glaze over and you change the topic as soon as possible.’