An Heir for the World's Richest Man

‘But your father...what he said...’

He shrugged. ‘I decided to prove him wrong. He didn’t take the lesson very well. I intend to repeat it until he accepts—’

‘You? That’s what you want, isn’t it? For him to accept you?’ she asked softly.

Something fierce tightened in his midriff. Try as he might, Joao couldn’t dismiss it.

‘Pueblo Oliviera would find that as difficult as swallowing the moon, so no. That’s not my aim. But I want him to accept that he will lose every time he pits himself against me. That by the time I’m done we will both know who is the victor.’

A sort of bewildered understanding widened in her eyes, tinged with sadness. Again, he dismissed it.

He didn’t need her understanding. Or whatever misplaced sympathy she wanted to bestow on him.

He repeated those words to himself as he approached her. At her nervous glance, he nodded at her necklace. ‘Turn around, let me help you with that. Unless you intend to sleep with this on?’ Immediately images flashed in his mind of her wearing nothing but the necklace that highlighted her beauty.

&n

bsp; When she complied and presented her back to him, it took every control-gathering technique he could summon not to bend his head and trail his lips over her delicate nape. Not to bury his nose in the curve of her neck and inhale deeply, infuse her in his senses.

He completed his task, handed the necklace over and stepped back.

She faced him again, and seemed as if she would push the conversation.

But her eyes widened suddenly, her hand going to her mouth.

He frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’

Her hand dropped and she shook her head abruptly. ‘Nothing. I think something I ate disagreed with me.’

He watched her take a breath, then two. He started to reach for her but she danced out of his way. His jaw clenched. ‘Would you like me to summon the doctor?’

‘No. I’m fine. It’ll pass, I’m sure.’ With an abrupt goodnight, she left him standing in the middle of the living room.

Alone, Joao willed his turbulent senses and heightened libido to settle. But ten minutes of pacing later, he was nowhere near calm.

Work.

That always produced welcome challenges. He could look into Ashby’s business, for instance. Embroil the other man in a tussle that would teach him a lesson not to sniff around what didn’t belong to him.

He grimaced when not even that spiked an ounce of interest. Everything pressing had been taken care of by Saffie leaving him with a rare freedom he should take advantage of.

But whatever peace he’d hoped for by retreating to his suite, he was woefully denied as night tumbled into dawn.

As he found himself outside Saffie’s door, knocking softly before cracking the door open to find her sleeping peacefully.

As he returned to his suite, unable to shake the grim truth from his mind.

Saffie Everhart was well and truly under his skin.

* * *

The nausea that had threatened last night in the living room propelled Saffie out of bed moments after she’d opened her eyes. It was strong, immediate and shocking enough to leave her weak and clinging to the porcelain by the time she was done retching.

God...no.

She moaned quietly, unwilling to be overheard despite the vast bathroom that could easily swallow up her whole flat back in Chiswick. She couldn’t be ill. Not now when she needed every weapon in her arsenal.

Her night had been disturbed by vivid, lurid dreams of Joao that had left her hot and needy, her sheets twisted with restless yearnings.