An Heir for the World's Richest Man

Her heart dropped, her fingers clenching painfully at the searing truth that she might have to. That the cardinal sin of falling in love with an unattainable man might be her undoing.

A throat cleared beside her. Again, Saffron startled, heat rushing to her face when she realised she’d been staring at Joao like a lovelorn fool, probably projecting her feelings to the world.

The middle-aged man staring at her had hard features born of harsh living, but surprisingly kind, shrewd eyes.

‘I don’t believe we were introduced, probably because I arrived late. I’m Ernesto Blanco.’

Memory fell into place, and her breath caught. ‘You’re Joao’s mentor.’

His brown eyes widened fractionally as he held out his hand. ‘I’m not sure whether to be surprised you know about me or astonished that Joao used that term for our relationship.’

She thought it best not to mention that Joao hadn’t. ‘I’m Saffron Everhart.’

‘Sim, the assistant worth her weight in gold.’

‘Now it’s my turn to be surprised.’

‘Because you don’t think you are?’

She shrugged. ‘Because you’re aware of my existence but I didn’t know about yours until...recently.’

Ernest tilted his beer bottle in Joao’s direction. ‘Ah, but isn’t that very much like the man we both know? A grandmaster at compartmentalising?’

As if pulled by powerful magnets, her gaze swung to Joao. He was staring at her with an electric gaze that rooted her to the spot for several seconds before swinging to Ernesto.

‘Perhaps not for much longer,’ Ernesto murmured.

She dragged her gaze back to him. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You will, soon enough,’ he said with a cryptic smile.

Saffie knew Joao was approaching from the way every cell zinged to life.

Ernesto stood and the two men clasped hands in that sombre way men who knew each other’s gravest experiences did.

But within the older man’s eyes, she spotted quiet pride and affection, the kind Saffron had only felt for a brief, blessed period before she’d lost the only parent she’d ever known.

Her heart plummeted further.

If Joao hadn’t accepted the love of the father figure who’d pulled him out of a dismal future, what hope did she have that he’d accept hers?

The two men engaged in a low-murmured conversation before Ernesto moved away and Joao’s hypnotic eyes slid to her. He didn’t speak, but his gaze slid over the loose, stylish knot she’d heaped her hair into, then lower to the diamond studs in her ears and the simple diamond chains at her throat and wrists, over the sky-blue flared sundress and matching platform shoes.

Every second that passed with his eyes on her made her feel alive. Vital.

So unbearably needy for an emotional connection.

In that moment she didn’t want to contemplate a time when she would be deprived of even the sight of him. But just as she’d had to accept the diagnosis of her mother’s illness, she had to make room for the fact that the love foolishly swelling inside with every breath she took might not find its rightful home.

The very thought threatened to shatter her into a thousand useless pieces.

Joao’s hands suddenly gripped hers. ‘You’re pale, Saffie. Are you unwell?’ he rasped with fierce urgency.

She hurriedly shook her head and tugged her hands from his. ‘No, I’m fine. But...we need to have that talk. I’d prefer it to be sooner rather than later.’

A shot of apprehension clouded his narrowed eyes. ‘Any reason for the sudden urgency?’

Yes, my heart is on the line.