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She wanted more than the children he’d made with her.
This not so secret yearning was the reason she’d talked herself out of leaving his employment all these years. It was the reason she’d agreed to another three months with him when she should’ve walked away.
Panic momentarily engulfed her at the admission.
But now that she knew the danger she was facing, could she halt her feelings? Accept that Joao would never feel that way towards her and carry on with her life without stepping into the pitfalls?
Even as she pondered it, she knew she was grasping at straws. Being around him, witnessing his intellectual brilliance and dangerous charm was what had led to her sleeping with him in Morocco.
But even knowing and fearing for her emotional well-being, was she prepared to walk away?
And what about his vow to lay claim on the babies she carried?
A knock came at the door, thankfully giving her the excuse to put aside her churning thoughts. She answered, her spirits dropping further because Joao wouldn’t knock at his own door.
The butler entered, bearing a tray. Accepting it, Saffie asked, ‘Is Mr Oliviera here?’
‘He asked me to inform you that he was attending an early-morning meeting. That he’ll see you at the office at lunchtime. You were to take your time this morning,’ he delivered with a smile.
He wasn’t sidelining her, she knew that. He often gave her part of the morning off after a big event, especially if there were meetings he could attend solo.
Still, her heart dropped.
He couldn’t have sent a clearer message than to leave her alone in his bed the morning after their night together. She’d pried into his private life, he’d given her the answers she wanted. And was now distancing himself.
That distance bled into their second week in Shanghai.
They remained in complete synergy workwise and, in every other way, he treated her with cool professionalism.
Out of the office was a different matter. At events where she was required to accompany him—an occurrence which seemed to have suddenly tripled—Joao took every opportunity to make physical contact. He pulled her close when her attention wandered, took her hand when they happened to be at whatever red-carpet event, and he was required to interact with the media, and danced with her at every gala or fundraiser.
All without engaging her in anything more than perfunctory conversation beyond complimenting her on how she looked, asking about the state of her morning sickness.
All while making contact with some part of her body.
Her hand. Her face. Her hair. Her hip.
Saffie was completely tortured by it.
By the time they arrived in Sao Paolo a gruelling seven days later, after a brief stopover in London, Saffie was thoroughly sick of it.
So it was with gritted teeth that she stepped off the plane the next Saturday. The SUV that would drive them a short distance to the helicopter taking them to Joao’s estate idled a few yards away. As she dashed for it, her right wedge heel twisted.
‘Atento!’ Joao grasped her arm and steadied her. ‘Deus, if I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to get away from me.’
‘And you would be right!’
He slid in beside her, his gaze coolly speculative as he slammed the door and reached for her seat belt.
‘Care to tell me what’s bothering you?’
She grabbed the belt from him and secured it herself, then immediately wished she’d worn her hair in its customary bun instead of brushed out and loose, when it got in her way. She reached up to flick the offending strand away but he beat her to it, his fingers slowly threading through her hair before tucking it behind her ear.
Her heart flip-flopped in an erratic rhythm when his fingers lingered on her neck before drawing away. ‘What exactly are you playing at, Joao?’ she asked abruptly. A little desperately.
‘Be concise with your questions, por favor,’ he rasped as the vehicle rolled for half a mile to stop next to another gleaming aircraft.
‘When we’re in the office you barely speak to me except to issue orders. And yet when we’re in company you won’t stop...touching me. You treat me like I’m some attention-seeking pet. And frankly I’m sick of it.’
