Chapter Forty-eight

Inside the cabin, Xavier sat down in the white leather seat. A flight attendant offered him a glass of champagne, which he accepted. It had been harder than he’d expected to convince Sylvia to come. She sat across from him, suddenly glaring at him beneath her dark lashes.

Was she angry at him for some reason? God knew why. He was the one who should be angry. She’d left him in the lurch a year ago. In an act of pure charity, he’d allowed her to quit her job. It had been the act of a saint. He’d barely managed to patch up the hole she’d left in his office.

‘You’d better have a very trustworthy babysitter in Rio,’ she growled, refusing the offer of champagne.

He finished off the crystal flute. ‘Maria Silva.’

She blinked. ‘Your housekeeper?’

‘She was my nanny when I was young.’

‘You were young?’ Sylvia said sardonically.

Xavier’s throat closed. Against his will, memories of his happy childhood washed over him, of playing with his older brother, of the wrestling and fighting, of his nanny’s