An Heir for the World's Richest Man

‘And still you haven’t learned your lesson, that all it takes is a little nurturing to make the difference between long-term success and instant gratification. I see what I want, I claim it and I keep it, while you grab then toss without seeing the value in anything.’

The flash of uncertainty briefly blunted Pueblo’s fury. But a moment later, the older man’s gaze flicked around the room, saw the audience he’d garnered.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and left, his small entourage trailing him.

The tight expression on Joao’s face eased, enough for her to catch a glimpse of his agony. Unable to stop the visceral need to comfort him, she placed her hand on his arm.

* * *

Joao started, his gaze flicking to Saffie as sharp blades continued to lash at his insides. Confrontation with Pueblo had always been on the cards but he’d underestimated the older man’s power to unsettle him even further. Or perhaps he was feeling it even more since he hadn’t quite managed to return to an even keel since Saffie had announced she was leaving.

Or perhaps the answer lay in the features he’d looked into that had seemed so much like his own he’d spent an alarmed moment wondering what else he’d inherited from the man who’d sired him.

Was he deluding himself that he was the better man? Was his DNA programmed to repeat history and damn his relationship with his unborn children even before it’d begun?

He swallowed, a quiet terror rumbling within him he couldn’t stop.

You’re so much more than one man’s opinion of you.

He wanted to cling to Saffie’s words. But was he?

He’d shown that he could make money and wield his fortune with admirable expertise. But beyond that where else had he been tested? Certainly not on the emotional battlefield. He’d never let anyone close enough to test his mettle in that arena.

But you have a chance now.

Did he? His gaze fell to her slightly rounded belly, and the twin sons growing within her. He stifled the sharp yearning cloying through him. He still didn’t know whether Saffie intended to take that chance from him.

But he could take steps to alter that. He could ensure he at least got a fighting chance.

He gritted his teeth, the determination to make that happen settling deeper into him.

* * *

Saffie watched as an expression shifted over his features, a betraying yearning, before he snuffed that out, too.

But that glimpse had rebirthed her wild hope.

Yesterday, he’d admitted he wanted her.

Could they not build on that? With a little time, couldn’t she show him that, while their foundation had been based on the physical, there could be more? They could be more?

He turned to Lavinia. ‘My apologies for the interruption,’ he said.

The older woman shook her head, her gaze introspective. ‘No need, Joao. There’s a reason my own sons aren’t by my side during this transition. Family is complicated.’

As if a switch had been flicked, the atmosphere lightened. Conversation flowed until Lavinia, having spent another fifteen minutes talking to Ernesto, suddenly turned to Joao. ‘I understand there’s another project of yours I need to see.’

Joao frowned, spoke sharply to Ernesto in Portuguese. The older man gave a sad little smile and responded. After another heated exchange, Ernesto shrugged.

Joao’s lips firmed, displeasure clouding his face.

‘What’s going on?’ Saffie asked.

‘Ernesto insists on poking his nose where it doesn’t belong.’

But Lavinia, sensing a rare weakening in her host, pressed her advantage. ‘Forget another dinner party in my honour or whatever other wonders of your beautiful country you have in store for me. Show me this project and you will have my answer by morning.’

His lips firmed. ‘This has nothing to do with our negotiations.’