Page 1 of Marriage Bargain With Her Brazilian Boss (Billion-Dollar Fairy Tales)

PROLOGUE

ANUSHKAREDDYLOOKEDaround the luxurious cabin of the private jet, but it was hard, as a fourteen-year-old, to maintain interest in the aircraft or anything else for that matter when excitement filled her belly with a thousand swarming butterflies.

To stay with her grandparents and her half-sisters, for the entire summer.

Instant guilt speared through her at the thought. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her mom and all the adventures she had with her. As a world-renowned environmental activist and an artist, her mom traveled all over the world—sometimes to showcase her work, most times in search of inspiration—which meant Nush had, in her fourteen years, lived in the most interesting places in the world.

But her mom was also absentminded and mercurial and prone to long periods of melancholy and depression. And when that low hit, she forgot about small things. Like stocking groceries and buying clothes and books for Nush, like making sure she spent time outside and with kids her own age.

Even with an unconventional mother who’d told her at the age of eight that she’d been borne out of an affair, Nush had always longed for a permanent home base, a close-knit family. Especially the one her half-sisters had with her paternal grandparents in California, the one she’d got her first glimpse of at the same age. Their father—a has-been artist and a raging alcoholic—apparently liked variety in his lovers, and so she, Yana and her oldest sister, Mira, all had different mothers.

As allergic as Mama was to the institution of marriage, she’d never denied Anushka the knowledge of her father’s family. The six summers Nush had spent with her grandparents and her two half-sisters at their sprawling estate in California had soon become the highlight of those year.

And now she would be back with them for another summer. At least that’s what Mama had told Nush in between tears, all the while issuing conditions and threats and warnings about her well-being to the man who represented Nush’s grandparents. All of which had been received with a patience and equanimity and even a kindness that she hadn’t associated with...Caio Oliveira. And yet he’d been infinitely gentle with Mama’s irrational outbursts.

Nush pushed her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose and studied him with as much covertness as she was capable of.

Caio was a constant in her grandparents’ life. A larger-than-life former soccer player slash current coding genius from Brazil that her grandfather considered his right-hand man. She’d only ever glanced at him while hiding behind Mira because one only ever looked at the sun from a distance.

But now, at such close quarters, Nush revised her opinion of him. He wasn’t the sun. He was tall, broad, a dark golden-skinned god from one of the mythical universes that populated her favorite role-playing video game. Light brown eyes with golden flecks shone with a wicked intelligence, hooded under thick dark brows that seemed to see too much with jet-black wavy hair that was cut close to his head and a jawline that was usually found on male models in fashion magazines. The man was too...virile, she thought, testing the word she’d heard Yana use once.

If they were animals, Caio would be the alpha at the top.

There was no other way to describe him, especially when she was a bespectacled, acne-ridden, gangly teenager who didn’t know what to do with her legs or arms or her suddenly overactive hormones.

It was new to her—this sudden influx offeelingsshe had no control over. Usually, her logical brain was her best friend. The thing she could rely on to keep her strong when Mama wasn’t, which had been a lot in the last two years.

But she couldn’t just keep staring at him for the rest of the flight. The last thing she wanted him to think was that she was still a little weird and nerdy.

“Why didn’t Thaata come to pick me up?” she said, once the flight attendant, who’d been making eyes at him, had left them alone. She wasn’t as fluent in the language her father’s family spoke as Mira was but she was determined to make a real effort to learn this summer.

A smile lifted one corner of his mouth, drawing a dimple on one side. “So you do talk.”

An overwhelming rush of shyness hit Nush like a tidal wave. She could feel her cheeks reddening. Probably the tip of her nose too. “Of course I talk, Mr. Oliveira. But only when there’s something important to be said.” She cringed and sighed. Why couldn’t she sound normal for once?

“Now, that’s an admirable quality I find rarely, especially among adults. And no Mr. Oliveira business, Anushka. It makes me feel old.”

“Youareold,” Nush blurted out, fighting the floaty sensation in her belly at how good her name sounded on his lips.

Laughter burst from him, loud and deep, drawing crinkles around his mouth and eyes. Her lungs felt like they did when she’d gone deep-sea diving—gasping for breath, unable to comprehend the magnificent beauty that surrounded her.

His smile took him from handsome to gorgeous, with a stopover at stunning.

“I mean...you’re quite a lot older than me,” she said, wanting to hide under the table between them.

“Twenty-seven is not that old, minx. But I’m jaded and cynical, so...” A shadow crossed his eyes, gone in an instant. “Also, the title of Mr. Oliveira belonged to my father. I’d feel like a cheap fake if I used that.”

A glimmer of raw ache made those eyes flash golden at the mention of his father. “If you want me to say your name right, you better teach me it,” she said, immediately wanting to distract him. “I know it doesn’t rhyme withmayo.”

“Cristo, no,” he said with a mock shudder. Planting his forearms on the table, he leaned forward. “It’s Caio,” he said slowly.

Nush repeated his name, a few times too many even after she got it, loving the sound of it on her lips.

“Perfect, Princesa.”

Mouth falling open, she bristled. “Why do you call me Princess?”

“Isn’t that what your grandpa calls you? Why is that?”

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