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‘It was a feat to pull this off. I’m just worried about last-minute glitches.’
He flicked a hand in arrogant dismissal. ‘There won’t be any. I won’t permit it.’
She almost laughed. But then he held out his arm to her in a smooth, gallant gesture that caused her throat to dry up.
Her fingers slid over his tuxedoed forearm, her heart flipping over as she encountered his tensile strength. It took a study in composure not to stumble over her own feet as they walked to the lift.
Downstairs, he helped her into the plush seat of the Rolls, buckled her in before seeing to his own.
The evening was clear, the temperate weather set to hold for the duration of the party. But nerves continued to attack her for the twenty-five-minute drive to the Lupu Bridge.
Right up until Saffie witnessed for herself the fruits of her labour.
She knew her request for the bridge to be shut for a private event hosted by the richest man in the world had been granted in theory. But seeing it first-hand, with electric-blue spotlights illuminating the bridge, the red carpet stretching from one end of the visually stunning bridge to the other, and ten same-colour-themed tables elaborately decorated for their guests, made her heart swell, her sense of accomplishment extremely satisfying.
They alighted and were escorted by white-gloved liveried footmen to the sound of a string quartet serenading guests as they mingled and enjoyed cocktails.
As a pre-birthday event for the woman whose business Joao intended to acquire, it was second to none, and when the guest of honour arrived, Saffie held her breath as Lavinia alighted from her limo.
The look on her face as she stared up at the thousands of lights strung up around the single, wide arc of the bridge was awestruck.
‘I told you that you had nothing to worry about,’ Joao drawled from beside her.
She turned to him, and the effect of the devastatingly stunning smile he sent her hit her squarely in the solar plexus. She was still recovering from it as he walked her down the long red carpet to the middle of the bridge and the centre table laid out with pristine silverware and a breathtaking centrepiece flower arrangement, and candelabras that had cost ten thousand dollars each.
Lavinia beamed, holding out both hands to Joao as she reached the table.
‘I didn’t think you could outdo yourself, Joao, but you’ve proved me wrong.’
‘You’re not the first to underestimate my determination, Lavinia. Or my considerable skills.’ The words were warm but the undertone of steel was unmissable.
Several guests at the table, mostly Lavinia’s executives and family, greeted Joao with reverence as he held out Saffie’s chair, then folded his impressive frame into the seat between hers and Lavinia’s.
‘But again, the person who is responsible for all this is Saffron.’
Lavinia’s gaze flicked to her, and she blinked. ‘I’m beginning to see she’s a priceless asset. Take care you don’t lose her.’
Whisky-gold eyes caught and locked on hers. ‘I have no intention of doing so.’
Saffie’s heart flipped again, and, even though she told herself it was foolish, her emotions chose to remain feverishly buoyant all through the pre-dinner cocktails and canapés service. And if anyone noticed she was drinking sparkling water instead of vintage Dom Perignon, they chose not to comment on it.
Conversation flowed, many guests including high-ranking political figures, heirs and heiresses, and A-list stars approaching to schmooze Joao while attempting to bask in his unique limelight. Saffie watched him mingle, exuding effortless charm, and she wondered how a boy who’d grown up in the slums of Brazil had risen to this. What had he sacrificed? Did that sacrifice still weigh on him?
She was pondering that when he stopped mid-conversation with another guest and speared her with fierce eyes. ‘Something wrong?’
Saffie blushed, a little embarrassed at being caught gawking. ‘No, nothing at all.’
He continued to watch her for another long spell, then, without warning, wrapped his hand around her waist, pulled her close and carried on with his conversation.
Saffie was too stunned to react so she stayed put, and when the head waiter came and whispered in her ear that the next segment of the evening was ready, she berated herself for the hollow that assailed her when she moved from Joao’s side.
The six-course dinner went off without a hitch, with each course drawing stunned murmurs from the guests.
But the pièce de résistance came during the dessert course, when a spotlight at the highest point of the bridge’s arch illuminated a single figure dressed in a white three-piece suit. Guests hushed as the first sweet strains from a violin filled the air. For a breathtaking minute, the violinist played from a stationary position, then was slowly lowered by a tensile cable.
The sound swelled, beautiful and enchanting, until he landed smoothly on his feet beside Lavinia, then knelt on one knee to finish off the exquisite piece.
Then, while the last echoes of the violin faded, the excited usher tasked with caring for the Shanzi orchid approached.
