An Heir for the World's Richest Man

‘I think the Silverton team are ready for us now,’ he said with a touch of brittle amusement.

Her startled gaze dropped to the ringing phone. Face flaming, she snatched it up. ‘Oliviera Enterprises. Of course, Mr Silverton. I’ll let him know you’re ready for him.’

She hit the mute button. Without glancing at Joao, she pressed the button that lowered the videoconferencing screen.

When she chanced a glance at him again, the bitterness had receded, and he was once again the all-powerful billionaire.

While she was evolving into an unfocused mess.

She swallowed, vowing to restore her composure by hell or high water, as the screen flickered to life.

‘You’re better prepared now, I trust?’ Joao drawled.

Rick Silverton nodded almost fawningly. ‘Of course, sir. And apologies for the earlier glitch.’

Joao waved him away. ‘I am confident you will ensure it doesn’t happen again. Now, your report, please. Then the projections.’

Saffie wasn’t sure what made her glance at Joao then. His eyes were firmly fixed on her. And the look in them sent a different kind of sensation down her spine. The one that warned she’d just skated closer to the edge of the volcano.

* * *

They took off from a private airport in South London four hours later. Any one of the four bedrooms in the converted A320 Airbus’s vast, jaw-droppingly luxurious interior would’ve been a perfect place to regroup after a very charged seventy-two hours.

Except her boss had other ideas and none of them included giving Saffie a moment to herself.

Five minutes after take-off, Joao beckoned her to the sumptuous chocolate-leather-and-mahogany-themed conference room that also served as his study on board. On two large screens, several Oliviera Enterprise executives from New York and India were poised to give an update on several projects.

That ate up three hours.

The moment they were done, Joao swivelled in his armchair to face her. He didn’t speak immediately, an unsettling tactic that had failed to rattle her until recently. Until she’d become intimately acquainted with her boss one night in Morocco and now couldn’t look at any part of his body without recalling in vivid detail what it felt like to be up close against his warm, vibrant skin. To experience the unleashed power of his masculinity. To remember the feel of those sensual lips suckling her nipple, wreaking dark magic between her thighs.

Enough!

It was clear he intended to throw her off-balance, probably because of yesterday’s rebellion of leaving the office while he was on the phone. Well, he could try all he wanted.

Saffie cleared her throat. ‘Mrs Archer landed in Shanghai two hours ago. I have it on good authority, she’s thrilled with her suite and the presents we arranged for her.’

‘You arranged. Feel free to take credit where it’s due.’ The suggestion was delivered in a laconic rasp, his eyes leaving hers to trail lazily over her body, his eyes heating where they touched on her tasteful soft beige trousers and blush-pink off-the-shoulder cashmere top.

Too unnerved to look into those eyes just yet, she pulled her tablet closer.

‘We’ll have dinner with her at her favourite restaurant two hours after we land. Chef Bouillard has been given exclusive charge of the kitchen for one night and been apprised of her culinary preferences. But I’ve suggested he delight her with a few of his own signature dishes. Same old, same old won’t impress her.’

‘My sentiments exactly.’

She nodded. ‘Two more bidders have joined the private auction for the Shanzi orchid. That brings the total to eleven. Sadly, the auctioneers couldn’t be persuaded to keep it at nine.’

One eyebrow rose. ‘Are you losing your touch, Saffie?’ he mused.

‘It’s more like word has leaked that you’re interested and that’s attracted the usual upstarts who think they can beat you on any arena,’ she replied, then realised how sycophantic she sounded.

A quick glance showed a wider, more arrogant smile that irritatingly made her stomach dip in excitement. He rose from his seat, ventured closer until his scent reached out and wrapped around her. Saffie kept her gaze trained on her tablet, cautioning herself not to do anything stupid, like look into those compelling eyes. Or trace the back of the large hand that landed on the table next to hers as he leaned down to peruse the list on her tablet.

‘It is of no consequence. I intend to win at all costs,’ he rasped low and deep.

She shivered, unsure whether he meant the auction specifically or the Archer deal.

Winning was everything to him. And yet, something in his demeanour blared alarm to her brain. One she couldn’t decipher when he stood this close to her. When she felt as