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 not what had triggered her decision to walk away. His indifference since their night in Morocco had said everything.
At best, that disappointment on his face would deepen. At worse, he’d mock her for letting emotions get the better of her.
But she wasn’t a robot.
Her life was flashing past before her eyes and she’d already given him more years than she’d originally planned. And with every day she sacrificed her innermost needs on the altar of Joao’s newest business obsession, she despaired a little more.
And perhaps even hated him a fraction, too. For that indifference she knew would never change. For his inability to step down from his god-like throne and deign to acknowledge the needs of mere humans.
Her needs.
‘You want to know why I’m leaving? It’s simple. I’ve decided you’re not the answer to my every problem.’
His eyes narrowed into dark gold slits. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ he snapped. ‘Stop playing games and speak plainly!’
Irritation bristled through her. ‘Or else what? You’re going to stop me from walking out?’
Silence throbbed between them.
Slowly he rose, his impressive height dwarfing hers even from across the desk as he removed the cufflinks from his shirtsleeves, and meticulously folded them back.
She didn’t want to watch, didn’t want to acknowledge that extra dose of virile masculinity that made him impossible to ignore. But she couldn’t help herself. Her gaze dropped to follow every inch of silky-hair-dusted forearms that was exposed. Tiny lightning bolts fired through her, blazing her already aggravated libido as she wondered how those strong arms would feel banded around her waist again, drawing her close to the towering perfection of his hard, muscled body.
‘What is going on, Saffie?’ The low-voiced demand, wrapped in power and authority, jerked her from her lustful reverie.
Her fingers gripped the straps of her handbag. At no point had she deluded herself that resigning as Joao’s executive assistant after living and breathing the role for four full-on years would be easy. But she hadn’t anticipated it being this hard either. If he’d shown zero interest in her life outside the walls of his existence before Morocco, he’d been a million times more detached since.
He didn’t know about her childhood in the orphanage, about her short, happy spell with her foster mother. About her devastation when she’d been orphaned once again.
About the promise she’d made.
Her heart thundered as she panicked that he wouldn’t let go until she gave him something. She didn’t realise she was slicking a nervous tongue over her bottom lip until his gaze dropped to her mouth.
For a single moment, detachment vanished.
Then it returned full force, bruising her with its severity.
‘Do you remember how I came to be your assistant in the first place?’ Saffie asked, needing temporary relief from this quagmire.
His frown intensifying, he dropped the cufflinks in a drawer and slammed it shut. ‘I fail to see how that’s relevant.’
‘It’s relevant to me. I was supposed to be here temporarily, while my old boss, Mr Harcourt, was on holiday. You’d just fired your own assistant, remember?’
‘Barely. I’m still not seeing how this is material—’
‘My point is, I was supposed to be here for two weeks. I’ve been here for four years. And by the way, is it true you offered Mr Harcourt early retirement so you could keep me here?’
Again, he didn’t so much as blink. ‘Sim. I knew by the end of your first week that you were far more suited to me. Your talents were wasted creating company retreat spreadsheets so I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse,’ he said with zero remorse.
‘Well... I’m glad that’s out of the way.’
His jaw gritted but a wary gleam entered his eyes. A gleam that said he was realising that this wasn’t a tantrum or a stunt. That she might actually mean it. ‘Now that we’ve wandered uselessly down memory lane, can we get back on track? What would it take for you to end this? Name your price and I’ll make it happen.’
Name your price.
If only she could.
If only she didn’t know the futility of naming her actual price.
She stared at him, her heart hammering as it had every time she’d contemplated taking this final step.
Granted, the thought that she would one day soon wake up and not be in his presence left her bereft. But then she forced herself to think of what else she would be replacing that experience with. The fulfilment her heart and soul yearned for. A true connection. A life-affirming purpose. ‘My price is my freedom, Joao. I gave you two weeks, then I added four years to that. Now I want out.’
Leisurely he leaned forward, his bronzed forearms rippling as he resettled his weight on his hands, brought that red-hot sensuality dangerously closer, and glared at her across the desk. ‘You have one last chance to give me a clear, concise reason for this absurdity, Saffie.’
The urge to tussle with him sizzled bright and urgently within her. What did she have to lose? In a few short weeks, she’d be out of his life. He planned to conquer the world, while she planned to retreat from his orbit, hopefully to embark on a lifelong project her soul had screamed for since she was a child. Since she’d tasted loneliness and vowed to make her life more meaningful.
Once she was done with Joao, she highly doubted their paths would ever cross again.
Ignoring the twinge in her chest, she boldly stepped forward, placing both feet on the battle ground. ‘Very well. You want the unvarnished truth? You’re a brilliant businessman, Joao. But you’re also a ruthless vampire. You take and you take, and you think throwing diamonds and flowers and unimaginable perks grants you automatic authority over my life. Well, it doesn’t. I mapped out a path for myself when I joined your company. I put my plans on hold and now
