really need to repeat it in such mocking tones? ‘Believe it or not, everything on there is true—’
‘Everything on here is nonsense!’ His deep voice was a merciless scythe through her response. ‘Your resignation is not accepted. Especially not at such a crucial point in my dealings with Lavinia. We’ve been going about this all wrong. It’s time to flip the script. To win her over we have to show her what she doesn’t know she’s missing. Let’s take her out of her comfort zone, in the most enticing way. You think you can handle that?’
Saffron fought the urge to clench her fists and stamp her foot. That would achieve absolutely nothing. Besides, as Joao had so coldly categorised, she wasn’t flighty. She was dependable. Level-headed. Hard-working. Obedient.
Qualities she’d striven for as an orphan. Everything the nuns at St Agnes’s Home For Children had assured her would secure foster parents and eventually parents who would adopt her, only for her to be passed over time and again in favour of others. She’d shed silent tears—because it wouldn’t have done for Sister Zeta to hear her crying and be disappointed in her—when bratty Selena had been chosen instead of her that week before Christmas when she was seven.
She’d been overwhelmed with sorrow when eight months later another smiling couple had walked away with a child that wasn’t her.
Through every heart-rending repetition of those events, she hadn’t shown any outward sign of distress or, even worse, thrown a tantrum like some of the other children. Eventually when her moment had finally arrived at the ripe old age of fourteen, she had refrained from exhibiting any outward signs of elation, lest it be misconstrued.
She’d maintained that self-possession through the two happy years she’d spent with her foster mother, and then through the harrowing eighteen months when her health had rapidly declined. Saffie had kept tearless vigils by her bedside, made the solemn promise that, no, she wouldn’t succumb to loneliness, that, yes, she would seek another family for herself when the time came, no matter what.
When, a week before her eighteenth birthday, Saffron had buried her foster mother, she’d buoyed up everyone at the small funeral gathering, recounting her fondest memories of that wonderful woman and drawing smiles to everyone’s faces. And she’d made sure she was completely alone before shedding a single tear.
It was near enough with that same composure that she pivoted away from Joao’s desk and returned to her desk. Where she placed a call to a number she knew by heart.
Once the call was done, she reached for the velvet box with not quite steady hands and returned to her boss’s office.
‘Are you coming down with an ailment?’ Joao demanded, a healthy dose of that Brazilian temper melting away a layer of indifference. ‘Would you like me to summon the company doctor for you?’
‘That won’t be necessary. I’m absolutely fine. In fact, I’m more than fine. I’m seeing things a little more clearly for the first time in a long while.’
He tensed, his eyes probing deeper. ‘And those things include resigning from a job that you stated in your last evaluation was “the most fulfilling thing” in your life?’
She bit the inside of her cheek, regret for those exposing words drenching her. But again, it was one of the many faults in her life she intended to rectify sharpish. ‘Yes.’
Tense seconds ticked by as he eyed her. ‘You do realise you could’ve stated a number of reasons for resigning besides this personal excuse you’re holding so preciously to your chest?’
The observation stopped her short.
Had it been deliberate? Did she, on some subliminal level, wish him to see beneath her façade, to the heart of her single, deepest desire? To that yearning that had started with a deathbed promise and blossomed soon after her foster mother’s passing, when Saffron had realised she was once again alone in the world, and had known she wouldn’t feel whole again until she fulfilled it? A yearning that had momentarily faded against the brilliant supernova that was Joao, only to re-emerge invigorated, viscerally demanding fulfilment?
No.
One night had been enough. The last thing she wanted was to reveal any more of her vulnerabilities to a man like Joao Oliviera. A man who breathed and bled commerce. A man who dropped his lovers swiftly and without mercy the moment they harboured the barest notions of permanence. A man without a family and a blatantly stated anathema towards ever encumbering himself with one.
‘I was hoping you’d respect my privacy and leave it at that.’
‘We have never deluded one another, Saffie. Let us not start now.’
Her breath caught at the accented way he pronounced her shortened name. Saahfie.
Each time it sent electric shivers down her spine, made her breasts tingle and her belly flip-flop in giddy excitement. This time was no different despite the volatile tension arcing between them.
But his statement made her breath catch for different, more terrible, reasons.
She had lived through months, perhaps even years of delusion.
Ultimately, that shameful realisation that she was chasing dreams, and wasting precious time doing so, was why she stood before him now.
‘Your letter threw up red flags. I’m acknowledging those flags and demanding to know what’s going on. Especially since we parted company only a few hours ago and you gave no inkling of pulling this stunt.’
‘Firstly, it’s not a stunt. Secondly, did it occur to you that I might not want to do this for ever? You might imagine you have immortal blood flowing through your veins and are therefore going to live for ever. Some of us are more cognisant of our mortality. So pardon me if I’ve realised that I don’t want to work until two a.m. on a Monday morning only to turn around and return to the office at seven-thirty to put in another eighteen hours.’
A dark frown descended over his brows and something like disappointment shot through his eyes. For whatever reason his anger didn’t grate as much as his disappointment. ‘That’s the problem? You’re complaining about your workload? You have my permission to hire yourself another assistant.’
She eased her grip on the box, breached the last few steps to his desk and set it down. ‘I can’t accept this. Even if I weren’t leaving, it would still be too much. I’ve donated the flowers to the gala organisers for the charity dinner you’re attending this evening. Prepare for Lady Monroe’s effusiveness when she sees you tonight. She believes they’ll easily fetch twenty thousand pounds if they’re auctioned off—’
‘Pelo amor de—enough with this lifeless performance. Tell me what you want and let’s get it out of the way so we can get back to work! Give away the flowers if you wish but the necklace is yours.’
‘Joao—’
‘It cannot be money. I already pay you ten times more than your closest rival. I’d offer to triple that salary but I suspect you’d say—’
‘It’s not money.’
He gave a brisk nod. ‘Bom, we’re getting somewhere. What is it, then?’
Her heart stuttered. She couldn’t tell him. Not everything and certainly
