blinked, shook her head, drawing his attention to the rich gloss of her hair. What it’d felt like tumbling freely over him—
‘No, we’re not. I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Well, I do. Tell me Morocco is not why you’ve dropped this bombshell on my day and we can move on. And no, we won’t be moving onto this so-called dream of a family or child because we both know you don’t even have a boyfriend.’
Fire sparked in her eyes. ‘What makes you think you know everything about me?’
Her spirited reply drew him even closer. He rounded his desk, closed the gap between them, felt tendrils of her light floral perfume wrapping around him. ‘You’ve been in charge of organising my life for over four years. That means I’m equally aware of yours and it isn’t that much of a secret, Saffie—’
‘I beg to differ or you would’ve seen this coming, wouldn’t you?’
Joao took a breath. This wasn’t working. For whatever reason, his assistant seemed hell-bent on this path. This unsatisfactory desire to leave him high and dry at this most crucial juncture of his life.
‘You wish me to apologise for what happened in Morocco?’
Her eyes widened, the deep pools of blue pulling him in. ‘What? No. I said—’
‘I’m aware of what you said. Just as I’m aware what women tend to say often differs from what they truly mean.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘Sorry to disabuse you of the notion but I’m not like your other women. I’m not hiding behind some nefarious ulterior motive. And while it may bruise your ego to hear the word no for the first time in your life—’
‘Watch it, Saffie.’
She carried on regardless. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. I don’t want to be your assistant any more. My life is my own. I can do whatever I want. You have my letter. I’ve been in touch with HR. As soon as you accept, they’ll get my termination papers ready.’
She turned on her heel, presenting him with the rigid curve of her spine that again commanded his attention to the curve of her hips, the tempting swell of her bottom.
He cursed under his breath. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ The arctic snap in his voice froze her in place.
Giving him the time he needed to stride over to join her at the door.
They weren’t done. Far from it. He needed her far too much to let her walk out of his office.
Perhaps it was their close proximity that made her pulse race in her throat as she stared at him. Perhaps it was because she sensed he was about to pull out the big guns, as he was wont to do when the occasion demanded it.
Whatever the reason, he watched her drag her inner lip between her teeth, felt the unwelcome sensation deep in his pelvis.
Meu Deus. He needed to put this thing to bed, pronto.
‘What?’ she blurted.
‘There’s a clause in your contract that states all future employers will be vetted and approved by me. Tell me, do you think I’ll let you run off and work for Ashby?’
* * *
The demand was soft. So soft Saffie didn’t feel the warm knife slide into her ribs until it was too late.
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Because I wish to keep the best personal assistant I’ve ever had.’
There was a time when the flippant compliment would’ve lit up her day. Not any more. ‘I’m sure the next will do just as well.’
His nostrils flared. ‘You can have an extended vacation after we put the Archer deal to bed.’
‘Joao—’
‘I will get my pilot to fly you to any destination of your choosing. You have my word that I won’t ask you to return until you’re well rested and you’ve worked whatever...lingering discontentment you have out of your system. Whatever it takes to get my level-headed executive assistant back.’
Despite his more than generous offer, the words dropped like icy bullets from his lips, his body language broadcasting his extreme displeasure.
The intimacy of his proximity and the sheer headiness of his masculine scent sent heat blooming through her as he continued to stare her down, reminding her that she hadn’t always been level-headed.
She’d slipped and fallen from grace in Morocco.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, stayed and for a second she knew he was recalling it, too.
Then she realised she was full-on gnawing at her lip.
Her renowned rock-solid composure was slipping and, for the life of her, she couldn’t get herself under control.
‘I told you. I can’t stay here and get what I want.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘This accusation interests me greatly. Tell me on what basis you arrived at it,’ he invited silkily.
‘I’ve worked with you for four years. You might be progressive with your other employees, but I know, for instance, that the subject of families and babies doesn’t interest you.’
One eyebrow spiked. ‘You know this for a fact when you and I have never discussed it?’
‘We may not have, but I’ve been present when business acquaintances have brought up the subject. Your eyes glaze over and you change the topic as soon as possible.’
One thick shoulder rose and fell. ‘Because the subject of other people’s children bores me,’ he stated coldly.
Saffie forced herself to breathe through the sharp pang of hurt. ‘Well, if you’ll be so kind as to step out of my way, I’ll stop boring you.’
She went to move around him. His hand whipped out and captured her wrist. Heat blazed from the contact, raining sharp tingles and making her gasp, this time for a completely different reason.
At the very top of her list—and underscored in indelible ink—of ways to avoid her tightly reined composure slipping around Joao was to never come into direct physical contact with him.
She’d learned that lesson in one sizzling, unforgettable way.
The Montcrief Pipeline deal.
The months’ long negotiations for the Brazilian-Canadian deal had left her with little sleep and living on the very edge of her nerves alongside Joao.
Her usually unflappable boss had been like a man possessed, his focus on securing the multibillion-dollar contract razor-sharp.
It was the first time the name Pueblo Oliviera had truly registered. The first time she’d witnessed something other than the fervent need to bag the best deal. It’d been clear Montcrief was personal
