An Heir For The World's Richest Man. Maya Blake

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An Heir For The World's Richest Man - Maya Blake Mills & Boon Modern

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know you take pleasure in making me wait, Lavinia,’ Joao continued, the timbre of his voice smooth, dark and potent like the special blend of coffee his handpicked aficionados cultivated for him exclusively in his native Brazil. Every word oozed effortless charisma as his dark golden gaze tracked Saffron across his office. ‘I hope when the time comes, you’ll let me make the climax worth your while.’

      Saffron stumbled, briskly caught herself on the edge of the sectional sofa that graced the office, and dragged her gaze from his coolly mocking one before she compounded her rare clumsiness by blushing.

      Sultry laughter flowed from the phone. Saffron curbed the irrational jealousy that welled inside her and attempted to maintain her composure.

      Even though she’d given him four years of her life, when it came right down to it, she had no rights where Joao was concerned. He didn’t care about her beyond her excellent organisational skills.

      Not once had he asked her what her interests were outside the office—not that she had much time to pursue any of them. Her last two birthdays had passed her by because she’d been so engrossed in making Joao Oliviera’s life problem-free that she’d missed them.

      And the fact that there’d been no one else to remind her—no family, friends, nor even acquaintances—and that her boss hadn’t known to treat those days differently from any other work-hard-and-then-even-harder days, had been just one of the many things that had bruised her deep inside when she’d finally girded her loins and taken stock of her life.

      Unsurprisingly, all the things wrong with her life had been down to one man.

      Joao Oliviera.

      So, no, she wasn’t going to waste a moment’s energy on being jealous. And when she was done with her task here, he could charm the birds from the trees for all she cared. She wouldn’t be around to see it. Wouldn’t experience that stressful little pull in her chest when he arranged an assignation with the next supermodel or socialite.

      Thankfully he hadn’t done that since Morocco. Not to her knowledge anyway, which in no way proved conclusively that he hadn’t—

      Enough!

      Interrupting her own spiralling thoughts, she refocused to find Joao’s gaze raking over her body, lingering for a moment on the document in her hand before rising to meet her eyes.

      Her heart lurched.

      For the last eight weeks, he’d treated her with cool indifference. He’d watched her when he’d wanted to and ignored her when it had pleased him.

      Saffie was forced to admit it was that detachment that had finally triggered her actions. That knowledge that she couldn’t endure much more of this, couldn’t pretend that her life hadn’t boiled down to being an insignificant satellite that orbited around his brilliance.

       That Morocco hadn’t happened.

      She pressed her lips together, fighting the chaotic sensations in mind and body as Joao let out a low, deep laugh.

      ‘Sim, I’ll respect you in the morning. You’ll leave satisfied that your legacy is in the best hands possible.’

      Long fingers tapped the smooth surface of his glass desk, drawing her attention to its graceful elegance, its subdued power. From there it was a mere skip to unlocking memories of when those fingers made firm, deliberate contact with her skin. Stroked and teased and branded, leaving an indelible mark on her.

      She watched his arm rise, his fingers stretching out in silent command for the document.

      While Joao’s ability to multitask was another skilful feather in his cap, she hadn’t anticipated executing this task while he conducted one of the biggest deals of his company’s history.

      But...the order of things didn’t matter. She was here to take her life back.

       So, do it.

      Lips pressed firmly together, she handed over the paper.

      Perhaps her expression gave her away. Perhaps the poker face that had seen her through four long years but had begun to crack after Morocco had finally let her down.

      Seconds breathlessly ticked by as he continued to recite facts and figures to Lavinia in his deep accented voice, all without taking his eyes off Saffron’s face. A full minute later, his gaze finally dropped to the sheet.

      Shrewd eyes skimmed the document with lightning speed. Then his breathtaking face tightened.

      Her insides jumped as those hypnotic eyes rose to lock on hers.

      ‘Sim,’ he murmured smoothly to Lavinia, although Saffie heard curt edginess wrapped around the word. ‘But remember I’m not a patient man. I want your company, and I will play your games for now. But eventually one of us will grow bored and resort to...other measures. Prepare yourself for that scenario, too, meu querido. Until the next time.’

      The words might have been directed into the phone but Saffie felt their impact deep inside.

      With a casual flick of his hand, he ended the call. Then chilled, narrowed eyes rose from her carefully crafted resignation letter to her face.

      ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he breathed in a low, deadly voice.

      Saffron called on every last crumb of composure and held his stare. ‘It’s exactly as it says. I’m tendering my resignation.’

      His gaze flickered with a hint of disbelief, then dropped to the page. ‘For “personal reasons”? You do not have a personal life, therefore you cannot have personal reasons. Therefore—’ he flicked a disdainful finger at the sheet ‘—this is a blatant lie.’

      She didn’t want to be hurt by the caustic words. By now, she should be immune to his brand of ruthless disregard for any impediment that stood between him and whatever goal he pursued. And yet that mysterious pang that had sprung up the morning after their fateful night burrowed deeper into her heart.

      ‘Thank you so much for pointing that out. And while I’m at it, thank you for the flowers and jewellery, although I won’t be accepting them. I’m assuming you’re about to step things up with Lavinia, hence the need for that outrageous bribe?’

      Not by a flicker of an eyelash did he acknowledge any wrongdoing in commissioning a necklace most monarchs would give an eye tooth for. ‘You’re building up to a point, I expect? Some sort of negotiation perhaps?’ he mused.

      ‘You’re not going to give me the courtesy of an answer?’

      ‘I believe one of the first things we discussed at the start of your employment was not to ask questions you already know the answers to. Would you like me to repeat mine? Because you haven’t given me a satisfactory answer.’

      ‘Every answer you need is in that letter. I’m resigning for personal reasons. Effective immediately after the requisite notice period.’

      The gaze he flicked at the letter was filled with such singeing disdain, Saffron was surprised it didn’t catch fire.

      ‘You’re not flighty. You’re supremely efficient. Dependable.

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