An Heir for the World's Richest Man

She couldn’t hide the blush that suffused her face. ‘I went home. To my flat,’ she added for emphasis she wasn’t altogether sure was necessary. ‘As for dissecting what happened...there’s no need.’

His eyes narrowed as he rounded his desk to perch on the edge. Her pulse skipped erratically at the sight of his thighs bunching beneath his tailored trousers.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely. Let’s chalk it under a lapse of judgement.’

His lips compressed and his nostrils thinned as he inhaled. ‘How magnanimous of you,’ he drawled.

Dragging her gaze from the enthralling sight, she cleared her throat. ‘If there’s nothing else, I have a meeting in three minutes.’

He scowled. ‘What meeting?’

‘The executive assistants’ meeting. It’s scheduled in sync with your call.’

‘Cancel it,’ he growled.

She shook her head. ‘I’ve cancelled it three times already. As head of the executives I can’t not turn up.’

For the longest time, he didn’t answer, his eyes lingering on her. Then abruptly he stood and returned to his desk.

Saffie started to walk away but then paused.

‘Joao?’

‘Hmm?’ His gaze was hooded as it lingered on her.

‘Were the Silverton team really not ready?’

A look very much like chagrin flashed across his face. ‘They spent too long trying to get the projector to start the presentation. I grew impatient.’

‘By too long, you mean ten seconds, possibly less?’

He clawed his fingers through his dishevelled hair. The action was so sexy, she forced her gaze away before she made a fool of herself by drooling. ‘Perhaps. The other reason I wanted you in here is because I want your input on Silverton. He’s hiding something, I’m not exactly sure what. But, of course, if you need to attend your meeting...’

Slowly, Saffie retraced her steps. Leaning forward, she picked up his phone and dialled the familiar number. ‘Hello, Mr Oliviera?’

‘No, Justine, it’s Saffie. Something’s come up. I won’t make the meeting. No, don’t cancel it. You can take it for me. Send me the notes when you’re done.’

‘Oh. Okay. If you’re sure?’

‘I’m sure. Thanks.’

She hung up and met Joao’s gaze. ‘There. That’s taken care of.’

Whisky-gold eyes stayed locked on hers for a long moment then an expression crossed his face. It was hard. Bitter. Enough to make her stomach tense. ‘Obrigado.’

‘What exactly do you want me to watch out for?’ she asked, desperate to stop her mind from searching for reasons behind that look.

‘I’m not sure, but, whatever it is, I will get to the bottom of it.’ The grit coating the words made her wonder if he referred to something other than the Silverton meeting.

As had been happening far too often lately, her mind began to stretch, yearning for knowledge she wasn’t entitled to. A need to know the man beneath the outer dynamism and authority.

Why did she sometimes find him staring at the scar in his palm with a mixture of anguish and poignancy? Why did he always close his fist as if holding a precious memory close?

She glanced up and caught him staring at her, a puzzling expression on his face.

‘What?’