An Heir for the World's Richest Man

She stopped, realised her breathing was as fitful as her heartbeat and her face was burning with what must be high colour.

Beside her, Joao stiffened. ‘I wasn’t aware my touch was so offensive.’

It isn’t.

Saffie was fiercely glad her pursed lips stopped the words from spilling free. But the task of holding them in caused another tremor to course through her body.

He saw her reaction, and his face grew tauter. ‘Perhaps, for the sake of avoiding hyperventilation, we should discuss this when we reach our destination?’ he quipped coolly with one spiked eyebrow.

‘I’m quite capable of having a civilised conversation.’

‘I beg to differ. You seem quite worked up about...whatever is on your mind.’

She opened her mouth to contradict him but he was alighting, holding his hand out to her while his gaze dared her to refuse. She knew it wasn’t beyond him to transfer her bodily from SUV to helicopter, so she let him assist her.

Minutes later, they were airborne. And since this particular chopper provided no privacy, Saffie had to hold her tongue as they flew over stunning skyscrapers in the heart of Sao Paolo, then tightly packed and precariously stacked concrete housing that constituted the dirt-poor favelas.

Momentarily, Saffie curbed her own angst in the face of such deprivation, and when her gaze flicked to Joao, he was staring down, too, his face frozen tight.

Did you grow up here? she wanted to ask. But she didn’t want to invade his privacy just to satisfy her curiosity. Perhaps he caught the question in her eyes when his head swivelled towards her because he shook his head.

‘One favela looks pretty much like another but the place of my birth is a little further away, nearer Rio.’

The bleakness in his voice made her want to throw her arms around him, but if these past three weeks had taught her anything, it was that she liked bodily contact with Joao a little too much.

Which was why she was fighting his careless caresses. It was that or go mad or, worse, beg him to never stop.

The favelas gave way to a lusher landscape, stretching for miles in every direction. She’d been to Joao’s estate in Rio but not to this one. Unable to stem her anticipation, she leaned forward.

The giant shape of a white stallion etched into the side of a hill was breathtaking. It was Joao’s personal crest and was stamped on every piece of stationery and property he owned.

They soared over rambling stables and open fields where stallions raced across the grass. Over giant gazebos and churrascaria pits smoking prime meats. Over cattle grazing on endless pampas to one side, and tennis courts, and not one but four separate summerhouses attached to Olympic-sized swimming pools on the other.

Then, past stylishly tiered, beautiful landscaped lawns, they soared over a sprawling red-roofed villa with several interconnecting wings that looked as if several properties had been artistically fused into one.

Her lips were still parted in awe when they landed on a designated helipad.

Saffie stepped out to a soft breeze that ruffled her hair.

&

nbsp; Joao glanced over when she reached up to secure it, his lips pursed.

By the time they made the short trip up the steps to one of many entrances to the house, two dozen staff were lined up, all wearing pristine uniforms with a discreet stallion logo pressed into their nameplates.

Joao greeted them in his native tongue, then glanced at Saffie. ‘These are the core staff you’ll need to work with to prepare for Lavinia’s arrival. You know how many staff work here, so if you need more just consult with the head housekeeper.’

At the last count, she knew they numbered seventy-five, just to take care of the villa and the grounds. ‘Do all the staff live on the estate?’ she asked as he stepped into a salon that looked as if it belonged in the pages of a glossy magazine.

‘Like with the executive condos, I provide extensive housing to all my top staff. I believe it’s easier that way.’

And as perks went, they were second to none. Saffie knew it was why Joao remained the number one desired boss to work for. But she was beginning to think it was more than that. ‘Easier or because you want to make a bigger difference in their lives?’ she asked before she could stop herself.

He froze in the middle of one of the many hallways that branched off into the villa.

‘Are you attempting to romanticise my actions, Saffie?’ he queried with a quiet, softly dangerous tone that filled every pore of her skin as surely as his body filled her vision.

Behind him a painting she very much suspected was an original Mondrian failed to hold her attention because the man staring at her was a masterpiece head and shoulders above all others.