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The question was harsh but she caught the barest glimpse of doubt in his eyes, as if he truly believed that about himself.
‘We both know that’s not true. And it’s a little too late to hide behind his shadow. You’ve been your own man for a very long time, Joao.’
‘Perhaps, but DNA speaks for itself,’ he said. There was no remorse in his voice. Only true purpose.
‘Is that what you intend to teach your sons? To accept that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree so they should accept whatever fate their grandfather and father’s DNA hands them?’
His jaw clenched so tight, she thought it’d crack. ‘They will never hear Pueblo’s name from my lips.’
‘That gives me my answer. I don’t know if you’re reacting to the meeting with your father—’ She stopped, feverishly trying to read his face. Something bleak flitted across his face but again he wrestled it under control. ‘You’re letting him get in your head, Joao. But...even if I’m wrong, I won’t sign this document. You know that, don’t you?’
His face turned rigid. ‘Then you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.’
Bewilderment whipped through her. ‘Why are you doing this? Was that what Shanghai was about? What these past few weeks have been about?’
His brows clamped together. ‘Do que voce esta falando?’
‘Don’t give me that. You know exactly what I’m talking about. The sex...the public displays of affection. Were you softening me up for this...this hostile takeover?’
He strolled to his desk and sat, no, he lounged, owner and master of all he surveyed. But he didn’t own her. Or her children.
Another tiny earthquake shook through her at the reminder that she was responsible for precious twin lives.
Lives he wanted to control.
‘It won’t be a takeover if we discuss it sensibly,’ he said, confirming her fears.
‘You want sensibly? Then tear up this document!’
He frowned. ‘Calm yourself, Saffie.’
‘Don’t you dare use that tone with me. Not when you’ve been planning this for weeks. Take it back, Joao.’
‘Will you stay?’
‘No.’
A momentary flash in his eyes was all the answer she needed that he wouldn’t shift from his stance. ‘Then we have nothing else to discuss.’
She felt the colour drain from her face. But she took the tiniest satisfaction in ripping the agreement to shreds and tossing the pieces on his desk, even while she prayed the hot tears prickling her eyes wouldn’t fall. ‘Have a nice life, Joao!’
* * *
It was the party to end all parties.
Or so everyone insisted on gushing the moment he came within hearing distance.
His mansion tucked into the exclusive peninsular of Saint-Jean Cap-Ferrat was awash with dazzling lights, laughter and music that bounced off the still water. A quarter of a mile away, his superyacht was outlined by more dazzling lights, guests who wanted to see another area of his life partying on the decks of his vessel. Between the two venues, every imaginable whim was catered for by the expert hands of an executive assistant no longer in his employ.
Joao experienced a flash of acute, blazing irritation, which immediately snuffed itself out beneath the agony tightening his sternum and the heavy weight of his morose mood. But in its wake he felt searing loss the likes of which he’d never experienced before but had lately become a constant companion.
Three long weeks she’d been gone. But everywhere he looked, she lingered. Taunting him. Defying him with her absent perfection.
He stared down into the dregs of the cognac Saffie had convinced a French distiller to produce solely for him. Hell, he couldn’t even drink now, or eat, or sleep in his own bed without being reminded of her every accomplishment. Her absolute perfection.
Behind him, world dignitaries and celebrities drank and danced on his dime as if there were no tomorrow.
While he suffered a thousand cuts of loss because the ache inside decimated him in ever-expanding agony.
