She eyed him suspiciously. ‘What is it?’
He remained silent, watching her steadily. Her lips pursed again, then she lifted the cloche off the platter.
She inhaled sharply at the concoction before her. ‘Joao, what are you doing?’
Not the response he’d been expecting. ‘We are having a meal.’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t give me that. First that insanely expensive necklace. Now this?’
‘It’s dessert, Saffron. Let’s not make a mountain and all that.’
‘You said it was my favourite. A favourite thing is something you love and indulge in occasionally. This is a chocolate mousse topped with truffles and twenty-four-carat shaved edible gold. I’ve had it once, when you talked me into eating with you on New Year’s Day.’
Joao shrugged. ‘I thought you’d want to mark your continued employment with something you enjoyed. The necklace doesn’t count. That’s for the Archer deal, and was given before you enlightened me of your plans. Now eat up. Gingham is a bore when he’s kept waiting inordinately.’
Saffron wouldn’t exactly lower herself into glaring at him, but the look she sent him was close. Had he not still been caught up in alternate moments of surrealism and imbalance he would’ve smiled.
Instead he raised his glass, took another sip and watched Saffron dig her fork delicately into the gold and ochre creation, lift a mouthful to her lips, sneak a quick taste with the tip of her tongue before sliding it into her mouth.
He watched her suppress a moan and bit back one of his own as she gave a little shiver of pleasure.
Feeling the blood rush to his groin, he drained his glass and picked up his phone. He could’ve left her to it and returned to his office. But too many things had skidded off kilter this week. As absurd as it sounded, he wasn’t in the mood to tempt fate by breaking this simple ritual of a working dinner.
Five long minutes later, he looked up at the delicate clatter of her fork on the plate.
‘Thank you, Joao. That was amazing.’
He gave a brisk nod and stood, veering sharply away before her eyes dropped to the swell behind his fly. ‘We’ll have the meeting up here,’ he said, heading for the door to his penthouse study. ‘I want you on the Gingham videoconference. He behaves himself when you’re present, and he definitely talks less bull.’
‘You mean I reel him back when he goes off script?’
‘Exactly.’
She nodded. ‘I’ll go and grab his file.’
Joao went to his desk, tugging off his tie and discarding it as he went. His casual attire would annoy the newspaper magnate from the Deep South but the great thing about the back-breaking climb to reach this pinnacle of success was that he was in an excellent position not to give a damn.
These days potential business partners needed him more than he needed them.
It hadn’t always been the case, though...
He stilled, his fingers freezing against his shirt as memory crashed through him.
His mother screaming insults at him for deigning to be born.
Hunger the likes of which he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
A ruthless gang attempting to steal what little food he’d managed to scrounge from tourists.
The fight with one particularly vicious gang member that had nearly cost him a limb.
He unfurled his hand, stared at the scar that still tingled its reminder of that fateful night and the favela doctor who’d been his saviour.
‘Joao? Is everything okay?’
He whirled around to face Saffron. Eyes that saw too much bore into him. ‘Sim. Everything’s fine.’ He freed his top button.
‘Are you sure? Only you looked like—’