An Heir for the World's Richest Man

‘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.’

At this point she feared it would be as impossible as cutting off her arm. ‘No, I’m not.’

A curious tension eased out of him and, for a flash of time, she wondered if he felt the same as her.

With a shake of her head, she dismissed the absurd notion. His ultimate goal was the Archer deal. Everything else, including her brief sojourn in his bed, was a pleasant extra.

‘Bom, as long as we’re on the same page.’

‘Now that’s settled, I’m going to bed. If you need me let me know.’

His gaze rushed over her face, settling on her mouth with a ferocity that made it tingle. When that tingle arrowed south, she knew it was time to go.

His lips firmed. ‘I’m not a complete tyrant. I’m sure I’ll manage without you for a few hours while you rest.’

‘Okay...well, I’ll set my alarm to wake up a couple of hours before we land.’

He nodded, abruptly dismissing her.

On legs that felt weirdly reluctant to carry her forward, she walked to the door.

‘Saffie?’

She froze, held onto the door handle for dear life. ‘Yes?’

‘Sleep well.’

* * *

Her sleeveless red-sequinned gown followed the contours of her body before dropping dramatically to trail on the floor behind her. Saffie wasn’t sure why she’d let the stylist talk her into this outfit. It was by far the most exquisite piece of couture she owned.

The only problem was she’d never worn anything so...red or so bold in her life. To pick now, with her senses in deep disarray—when every cell in her body felt as if it were going to turn itself inside out every time Joao got within touching distance—felt like one challenge too many.

She examined herself more closely and breathed a little easier that the faint shadows she’d woken up with just before they’d landed were hidden beneath expensive concealer. The gown projected the confidence she needed. The kind of sophistication Joao Oliviera exuded so effortlessly and expected those in his sphere to emulate, no matter how much they wanted to lock themselves in a hotel room and hide from their perplexing emotions.