How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

by Joss Wood

  Free of the worry of having to go back to Johannesburg with her tail between her legs. Free of the fear of returning to her job as Kerry’s assistant—the woman had gone through three already in six months. Free of worrying that she’d eventually fade away, that she’d always be remembered, if she was remembered at all, as being Kerry Riddell’s half sister.

  But when she returned later, it would be to a Cape Town they both lived in, but where they would no longer connect.

  And that was the way it should be.

  Because, realistically, there was no chance of her and Radd interacting in an ongoing and meaningful way. Aside from the fact that he was a billionaire and she was broke—okay, she wouldn’t be broke for long—they were very different people. He was completely assured and very at ease with himself and his place in the world.

  The fact that he constantly dated different woman told her he was commitment-phobic, so she’d never be anything more than a few nights of fun.

  But, more than that, Radd was the type of guy she should avoid. He was strong-willed and assertive, a man of very definite opinions. He was also domineering and hard-assed, and she was pretty sure he was the “my-way-or-the-highway” type.

  She’d spent the last ten years under the thumb of two very dominating and demanding women, and she wasn’t willing to put herself into a situation where she lost her voice, lost herself, again. She was just starting to bloom, slowly understanding who she was and what she stood for. Hooking up with Radd—tough, demanding and dictatorial—would erode all her progress. No, finding herself, restoring her self-belief and confidence, was more important than dropping into a torrid affair with a man who’d discard her when he tired of her.

  And he would because, according to the tabloid press, he tired of everyone. When it came to woman, Radd had the attention span of a fruit fly.

  So no falling in lust with Radd Tempest-Vane, Riddell. It would be a bad, bad, terrible move.

  Falling in love would be the height of stupidity, and she refused to be that girl, the one who “couldn’t help herself.”

  Brin sighed, wondering why she was getting so worked up about something that wouldn’t happen. She would be leaving in a couple of hours and soon this would all be a strange memory.

  Radd changed gears as he approached a steep hill, idly pointing out a warthog snuffling in the grass next to the road. Brin grinned at the pig, thinking that it was both ugly, cute and very dirty. It looked up at them, snorted and belted into the bush, its tail pointed toward the sky.

  They crested the hill and the bush thinned out, revealing a swathe of open savanna. To the left of the road, the grass had been mowed within and around a small, fenced-off area. Brin leaned forward and saw a couple of gravestones beyond the iron fence.

  Brin looked at Radd and saw that, while he’d slowed the car to almost a crawl, he was looking straight ahead, as if he were pretending not to notice the graveyard. She placed her hand on his bare, muscled forearm and ignored the heat shimmying up her fingers, along her arm.

  “Who is buried there, Radd?”

  Radd didn’t meet her eyes. “I spoke to one of the rangers this morning, and he said that he saw a pride of young male lions out here yesterday, somewhere just over that ridge. Let’s go see if we can spot them,” Radd said, a muscle jumping in his clenched jaw.

  She loved to see a pride of lions but, strangely, hearing the history of the small graveyard seemed more important.

  “I’d rather look at the graveyard,” Brin told him. “Stop the car, Radd.”

  Radd released an aggravated hiss, but he hit the brakes, causing Brin to lurch forward. She braced her hand on the dashboard and lifted her eyebrows at him. “Was that necessary?”

  “It’s just a graveyard filled with people you don’t know!”

  Wow, if the temperature of his words had dropped any further, his voice box would’ve iced over. Brin knew he was trying to intimidate her and that he expected her to cower in her seat and tell him to drive on. The impulse was there, but Radd didn’t frighten her. He should, but he didn’t. Weird, but true.

  It was clear the graveyard was personal and private, so if he didn’t want her to look, she’d honor his request.

  “Can I take a look around, pay my respects, or would you prefer that I didn’t?” Brin asked, keeping her tone nonconfrontational.

  Radd whipped his cap off his head, ran his hand through his hair and jammed it back down. He leaned across her and opened her door, so Brin hopped out of the Land Rover and started to walk in the direction of the graveyard. Radd, snapping her name, stopped her progress. “Brin, wait.”

  Brin watched as she reached behind his seat and pulled out a rifle. He exited the vehicle and slung the weapon over his shoulder. Brin’s eyes widened as he walked around to join her, his eyes scanning the bush around him. “Is the rifle really necessary?”

  “This is wild land, Brinley, filled with wild animals. Guests are never supposed to leave the vehicle, ever, and if they do, they are on a walking tour, guarded by our armed rangers.”

  Brin nodded to his weapon. “And do you know how to use that?”

  Radd rolled his eyes. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be carrying it.”

  Designer tailored suits and Hermes ties, Aston Martins and private jets. Battered boots, a cap and a rifle. Who was this man and how many more sides did he have to him? God, he was intriguing.

  But, intriguing or not, she was leaving his life in a few hours and that was a good thing. She had work to do, a future to create, and Radd was not only a massive distraction, but also completely wrong for her.

  Radd pushed open the small gate leading into the cemetery and gestured Brin to step through. The grass inside the fence was neatly cut and the headstones were free of dust and debris. It was fairly obvious that the area was well looked after.

  Brin stopped at the first headstone and stared down at the faded words, unable to make out dates or names. This grave was older than all the others. Brin asked Radd whose it was and when he didn’t answer, she turned around, frowning when she saw him standing at the gate, his back to her, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

  Could Radd, normally so implacable and composed, be feeling disconcerted and maybe a little sad? Or maybe even a lot sad.

  Moving on, Brin stared down at a bright, newer headstone, reading the words. The date of his birth and death followed the name, Jack Tempest-Vane, and the words His absence is a silent grief, his life a beautiful memory. Brin tipped her head to the side, did a mental calculation and quickly realized Jack had to be Radd’s brother, and that he’d died when Radd was in his late teens or early twenties.

  Brin put her hand on her heart and gently touched his tombstone before moving deeper into the small cemetery, smiling at the cruder gravestones marking the resting place of beloved pets. Then she frowned when she saw one black, flat, unadorned marker glinting in the sun. Brin wandered over to the far corner of the plot.

  Gil and Zia Tempest-Vane.

  Radd’s parents.

  They were buried in the family plot but just, tucked away out of sight. Brin dropped to her haunches and brushed twigs off the face of the marker. Black marble, white writing. Just their names and dates of their births and deaths—less than two years ago—were etched into the stone.

  Brin placed her hand over her heart as a wave of sadness passed over her. Radd and Digby would’ve chosen their final resting spot and their choice was a statement in itself. A part of us, but also...

  Not.

  “Brin, let’s go.”

  Brin had a hundred questions for Radd, but his hard face and Don’t ask expression had the words dying on her lips. Closing the gate behind her, she followed Radd down the path back to the Land Rover and quietly thanked him when he opened the passenger door for her.

  After slamming her door shut, Radd stowed the rifle behind the seat
and walked to his side of the car. Instead of starting the vehicle, he rummaged behind the seat again and pulled out a thermos. Unscrewing the top, he poured coffee into the thermos’ mug, took a sip and handed the mug to Brin.

  “Sorry, but we’ll have to share.”

  “This isn’t five-star service, Tempest-Vane,” Brin teased him, wanting to push his tension away.

  “If you were on a proper game drive with one of our rangers, you’d be having breakfast at the edge of a water hole, sitting at a table. You’d have a mimosa in your hand and a croissant on your plate while the chef whipped up a crab, lobster, asparagus and truffle omelet.”

  Brin took back the cup and looked at him over its rim. “I’m sorry you lost your brother and your parents.”

  Radd’s jaw hardened and his hand gripped the steering wheel, the knuckles white. He stared past her, his expression grim. A minute passed, then another. Brin tightened her grip on the mug and looked back at the graveyard, accepting that Radd wasn’t prepared to discuss his family. And why would he? She was his temporary employee, someone he’d hired to do a job for him, someone he’d shared a kiss with.

  A melt-your-socks-off kiss, but still. It meant nothing to him, and it should mean nothing to her. She was trying not to let it.

  Whether she was succeeding was up for debate.

  “I’m presuming you know something about my parents...”

  Brin darted a look at him, unsure how to reply. Sure, she did, who didn’t? She’d read about their escapades in the newspapers and celebrity magazines, admiring the way they thumbed their nose at the world.

  But she was also old enough to realize her entertainment was Radd’s embarrassment. “It must have been hard.”

  Brin caught the flash of pain that jumped in and out of Radd’s eyes. “Hard? Yeah. It was hard.”

  And wasn’t that the understatement of the year? Radd jerked his thumb at the graveyard. “We had a funeral in Paarl, at the family home, but their ashes are over there. It’s a tradition for family members to be buried here, but we were pissed at them, still are, I guess. When they died, we weren’t talking.”

  “For how long?”

  “The best part of twenty years.”

  Brin’s mouth fell open. “Wow.”

  Radd shrugged. “To be fair, it wasn’t such a big deal, they weren’t around much. And, God, they were a constant source of humiliation.”

  Brin wanted to hug him, to pull him into her arms, but she knew he wouldn’t appreciate any displays of sympathy. Look, she wasn’t completely crazy about her own family, but she couldn’t imagine never seeing them again. “You didn’t speak to them once in all that time?”

  One of Radd’s powerful shoulders lifted in a shrug. “My father left a message for me two days before the accident, saying they were coming home, that there was someone they wanted us to meet.”

  Brin’s curiosity bubbled. “Who was it?”

  “God knows. Knowing my parents, it could be their dealer or a sister-wife for my mother. My parents were as mad as a box of frogs,” Radd replied, taking the mug of coffee.

  “Did you ever look into their papers, check their phone messages, read their emails?” Brin demanded. “Do you have his computer, his diary, his phone? What did you keep?”

  Radd’s lips twitched at the corners. “Slow down, Nancy Drew. We boxed all his personal effects, the boxes are stored in an attic at Le Bussy, the family home. Look, it was a throwaway comment from a person not renowned for truthfulness. It was probably some stripper he’d met who’d caught his eye.”

  Brin wrinkled her nose. “Did he ever introduce you to strippers before?

  Radd’s smile broadened a fraction. “No contact for twenty years, remember? Have some more coffee...” Brin took the cup back, sipped.

  “You have an active imagination,” Radd continued. “I’m convinced my father was just blowing smoke, he was really good at doing that.”

  “But...”

  That muscle in his jaw jumped again, his expression hardened and the strong hand on the wheel tightened. Then, Radd glanced at her and his fabulous blue eyes were a deep, dark, intense blue. And filled with pain. And guilt. And a little anger.

  She’d pushed too far and he was closing down.

  “I’m asking you never to repeat what I just told you, Brinley,” Radd stated, his voice colder than a dip in the Bering Sea.

  “You have my word.” Brin passed the coffee mug to him and watched as he took a long sip, briefly closing his eyes. Handing her the mug again, he pulled his sunglasses from off his T-shirt and slipped them over his face, likely more to shield his eyes than to block out the glare of the sun.

  “Shall we go look for those lions?” Brin asked, changing the subject, and relief flashed across his face.

  “Absolu—” Radd’s reply was interrupted by the jarring, strident tones of his phone ringing, and he lifted his buttock to pull his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans.

  “Those things don’t belong in the bush,” Brin muttered, annoyed by the interruption.

  Radd sent her his sexy half-smile, half-smirk. The one that always warmed her. “I couldn’t agree more. But, unfortunately, I’m not on holiday and they are a necessary evil.” Radd lifted the device to his ear and briefly lifted his hand to point toward a large tree, and a massive antelope standing in the tree’s shade.

  “Male kudu...hey, Dig.”

  Brin and the kudu exchanged interested glances as the vehicle slowed down to a crawl. She could hear Digby’s voice and, though his words were indistinguishable, judging by the horrified expression on Radd’s face, he was the bearer of bad news. And, by the way, Radd looked at her, it involved her. Oh, crap, could Radd have found out her tenuous connection to Naledi? And did it matter? The flowers were done, and she was leaving; Naledi would never find out.

  It wasn’t, shouldn’t be, an issue.

  “Okay, well, thanks for letting me know. I’ll call you in the morning to make further arrangements.”

  Radd disconnected the call and gently banged the expensive device against the steering wheel as the vehicle rolled to a stop.

  “Problem?” Brin asked.

  “Yeah. The pilot called Digby this morning, he picked up a problem when he was flying back yesterday. The technicians are working on it, but the plane won’t be able to pick you up today and the repairs will take a few days, maybe more.”

  Brin felt cold, then hot, then cold again. Oh, crap, no.

  “The Radebe’s have agreed to use their own jet, which will leave Johannesburg, collect them in Cape Town, offload them here and return to Johannesburg.” Radd placed his forearm on the steering wheel and faced her, her expression troubled. “So, what the hell do I do with you?”

  * * *

  Color drained from Brin’s face and Radd noticed her trembling hand. Whipping the coffee cup from her grasp, he tossed the liquid onto the veld grass and screwed the cup back onto the thermos, watching a dozen emotions jump in and out of her eyes.

  A few minutes back, when they were talking about his parents—a topic he never discussed, not even with Digby—he’d felt like he was sitting on a hot griddle, but it was obvious he’d swapped places with Brin. Later, he’d try and work out why he’d revealed so much to Brin and why he felt comfortable opening up to her, but right now, he needed to focus on this latest hitch in his plans.

  Brin bit her bottom lip. The plane’s delay was an inconvenience, but it didn’t warrant her deer-in-the-headlights expression. “Do you have somewhere to be tomorrow?”

  “No, I mean, yes! Yes, I have to go back to Cape Town!” Brin quickly replied, her eyes sliding away as her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. Damn, she was a really bad liar.

  “A job? A doctor’s appointment? Lunch? A date?” He narrowed his eyes, inexplicably annoyed at the idea of her seeing someone else.

 
; “Yes, a doctor’s appointment and a date.”

  Lies number two and three.

  Radd tapped his index finger on the knob of the gear lever. “I told you that I don’t like lies.”

  “You told me you don’t like secrets and surprises,” Brin pointed out.

  She was splitting hairs, because lies and secrets led to surprises. “So, why are you lying about needing to be somewhere tomorrow?”

  “I can’t stay here, Radd. I just can’t,” Brin replied, still not able to meet his eyes.

  “It’s a luxurious resort, not a jail cell, Brinley,” Radd retorted. “What’s the problem with you staying and leaving with me on Friday?”

  Brin stared down at her intertwined hands, her lower lip between her teeth. “I need to get back to Cape Town, Radd. You promised I’d be back today. Can I hire a jet or, more realistically, another—smaller—plane?”

  Damn, she really didn’t want to stay. Radd felt the stabbing pain in his chest and frowned. Could he be feeling hurt? And if he was, what the hell was wrong with him?

  “Sure, but it’s expensive. And I haven’t done your transfer yet and that amount of cash will take a couple of days to clear.” He named a figure that had her eyes widening. “Do you have that sort of cash lying around?”

  Brin shook her head. “No.”

  He didn’t think so.

  “I could hire a car...”

  What the hell? Why was she so determined to get away, to leave him? And wasn’t he feeling like a complete idiot for talking to her about his parents, for opening up?

  So stupid.

  “Brinley, what is the problem? You obviously don’t have any commitments back in Cape Town. You’re staying in a luxurious villa at one of the world’s best safari operations. We have world-class chefs, an extensive wine list and a spa. Consider the extra few days a holiday, a bonus for doing such a fabulous job on the flowers.”