by Joss Wood
“Brin said something similar.” God, even murmuring her name hurt. Why? She was never going to be part of his life. No one was.
And if that was true then why did he spend the last thirty-six hours talking himself out of going to her, calling her? Radd rubbed his chest somewhere in the region of his heart and wondered if it would ever stop aching.
Maybe he was having a heart attack or something. Or maybe he was just missing Brin.
“I need trust and comfort and support...”
He wasn’t capable of giving her what she needed.
“Did you see the letter we received from our parent’s lawyer?” Digby asked out of the side of his mouth. “The beneficiary of their trust wants to meet us, on certain conditions.”
Right now, he really didn’t care. And he wasn’t even remotely curious who Gil and Zia had left their money to. How to heal the crater-sized hole Brin had left in his life was taking up all his mental energy.
“Brin is Kerry Riddell’s sister,” Radd whispered the words in Digby’s ear.
“Did you hear what I said? About meeting whomever they left their assets to?”
“Mmm. Brin told me I’m living in the past and that the PR campaign is just a way to convince myself I am better than them.”
Digby released an under-his-breath curse and closed his eyes. Then he pushed his way to his feet and, when Radd looked up at him, jerked his head. Radd got the message and slowly climbed to his feet, thankful they were in the back of many, many rows and could slip away without disturbing the wedding.
The brothers walked in silence to the open-air bar set up on the magnificent veranda a good distance from the wedding gazebo. Digby walked behind the counter and reached for a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. After pouring a healthy amount into both glasses, he handed Radd his tumbler before speaking again. “Your florist is Kerry’s sister? BS.”
“Do you know Kerry Riddell?” Radd asked, after taking a healthy belt of his drink. He welcomed the burn, and then the warmth, hitting his stomach. It was the first time he’d felt anything but ice cold since Brin left him on the plane.
“Yeah, we’ve met. She’s a piece of work.”
Needing to talk, a surprising development in itself, Radd rolled the tumbler between the palms of his hands. “I only found out Brin’s connection to her when Johnathan told Naledi she was Kerry’s sister at Kagiso. Naledi did not take the news well.”
“Bet she lost her rag and accused Brin of trying to spoil her wedding.”
Radd placed his glass on the bar and started pacing the area in front of Digby. Six steps, turn. Ten steps, turn again. “Good guess.”
Digby grinned. “Not that good, because Mari told me. She also told me that you are into Brin.”
Radd snorted, stopped and took another sip of his whisky. “We had a brief fling and it’s over.” He started to pace again. “It was...inconsequential.”
Radd looked up at the clear sky, watching for a stray lightning bolt to punish him for that enormous lie.
“Sure it was,” Digby mocked him. “That’s why you barely reacted when I told you about the heir to the trust, why you brushed that news off to focus on a florist. Face it, Radd, she is your person.”
Radd stopped abruptly, whirled around and scowled at his brother. “Are you looking to get thumped? You know how I feel about settling down, about marrying!”
“I do,” Digby replied, obviously amused.
“Then why would you make such an asinine comment?” Radd demanded, resuming his pacing.
“You’re shouting. And you are pacing.”
Radd threw his hands up in frustration at Digby’s observation. There was no one around, no guests to be disturbed, so what was his problem?
Digby chuckled at his question, and Radd’s hands curled into tight fists. No hitting your younger brother, even if he deserves it. “What the hell is so damn funny?”
“You! Look at you, all pissed off and pacing. I haven’t seen you this worked up in...well, forever. You are the most impassive, nonreactive person I know, yet here you are, all tied up in a knot over a woman.”
Radd wanted to argue but couldn’t because, from the first moment he’d met her, Brin had the ability to shove her hand into his soul and pull all his dormant emotions to the surface. Radd scrubbed his hands over his face, his anger fading. He sent Digby a rueful look. “She drives me nuts.”
“And that’s a very good thing,” Digby replied.
“Not from my perspective,” Radd grumbled.
Digby smiled, picked up his drink and swirled it around before speaking again. “Since Jack’s death, you have tended to be a little...”
“A little what?” Radd prompted him when Digby hesitated.
“Robotic.” Digby shrugged. “Look, when Jack died, we had to grow up, and we did, fast. We had to deal with the parents, the gossip around them and the loss of our legacy. In our drive to regain what was lost, we also, to an extent, lost ourselves.”
“Explain,” Radd commanded, his throat dry. This conversation wouldn’t be easy, but it was long overdue. The path they were on, which had seemed so clear a week or so ago, was now shrouded in fog.
“We both changed after Jack died, in fundamental ways. We worshipped Jack, he was our hero, our anchor point. And the parent’s betrayal knocked us sideways, and them returning to their hedonistic lifestyle so soon after his death was another blow.”
“Maybe that was the way they coped with his death,” Radd suggested, shocked by this new insight.
“Maybe. Or maybe you are giving them too much credit,” Digby said, his eyes stormy. “Anyway, as I was saying, Jack’s death changed everything. You became an adult overnight and I became a rebel. God, it was a miracle I managed to finish school without being kicked out.”
Only because he’d gone to the headmaster and begged him to let Digby stay in school. But Radd didn’t tell Dig that, he didn’t need to know.
“I acted out, looking for a way to ease the pain, but you internalized everything and cultivated this nothing-can-hurt-me persona.” Digby jammed his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, his eyes sober. “I, mostly, grew out of my rebellious stage, but you kept your hard-as-nails facade. I’m not going to lie, it worries me. That’s why I am so damn happy that you’ve found someone to make you feel.”
Brin did. Make him feel, that is. He still didn’t like it.
But he couldn’t deny it. Around Brin, he felt both relaxed and energized, calm and excited. He felt normal...
“Brin seems to think that I’m using the PR campaign to make me feel better about myself,” Radd admitted. Digby was the only person he could discuss this with, he’d walked this path with him. And until he figured out whether she was right or wrong, or a mixture of both, he was paralyzed.
He wanted to move on. How and where to, he had no idea, but he wasn’t the type to stand still and do nothing.
Digby stared at a point past Radd’s shoulder, and Radd knew he was looking at the superb view of Table Mountain. Digby’s opinion on Brin’s accusation was important, and he was very willing to wait.
Dig’s eyes eventually met his. “She’s right, Radd, you and I both know it. I don’t blame us for trying to restore the company to what it was, it gave two very messed-up kids a goal, a direction we so badly needed. But I’m not, as I’ve mentioned, a fan of the PR campaign, I feel we’d be beating a dead horse. People will think what they think and we know the truth. And maybe we should move forward without thinking about how the world perceives us.”
Digby didn’t, and never had, cared what people thought about him. He marched to the beat of his own drum and people could either like it or lump it.
Radd felt like the world was shifting below his feet. Everything that seemed so stable a week ago was now shaky, everything he firmly believed in felt less substantial.
All because a silver-eyed siren flipped his life upside down and inside out.
“Noted.” Radd made himself ask the question. “Should we still go ahead with acquiring the mine?”
“Absolutely.” Digby nodded. “You survived the pre-wedding week at Kagiso and by now the bride and groom should be hitched and stitched, so why not? Get Vincent to sign the sale agreement and let’s get it done. Once the mine is in our hands, we can decide on the PR campaign and where we want to take the company without any pressure from the past. Though I think you should be working out how to get Brin back in your life. It’s obvious that you are head-over-ass in love with her.”
No, he wasn’t! Radd sent Digby a hot look and noticed Dig’s eyebrows rising, as if daring him to disagree. He wanted to... He should.
He liked Brin, and adored her body. Sex with her was magical and he loved spending time with her, but that didn’t mean he loved her...
Digby flashed him an evil grin. “If you aren’t in love with her, then I might track her down and ask her out.”
A red mist formed behind Radd’s eyes and it took all his willpower not to put his hands around Digby’s throat and squeeze. Brin was his.
“Do it and die.”
Digby’s expression turned mocking, then amused. “Just get over yourself and admit it already, brother.”
Aargh!
Okay, yes, maybe he was in love with her. But who fell in love in under a week? Could he trust his feelings, as new and strange as they were? Radd, with considerable effort, pushed aside his fears and, after taking a deep breath, examined his feelings for Brin.
She made him feel whole, complete, the best version of himself. He loved her dirty laugh, her sexy smile, the sway of her hips and the way she crinkled her nose when she was deep in thought.
Nothing else, not the mine, not the business, not even Digby, mattered as much as she did; he was now second in his own life. Brin was all that was important.
He couldn’t live his life, didn’t want to, without her. Melodramatic much, Tempest-Vane? It was hard to admit, but having Brin in his life would enrich it exponentially, far more than the money in his bank accounts had ever been able to do.
She was all that mattered, all that was important.
“Ah, and the penny has dropped,” Digby commented, his tone smug.
Radd managed a small smile. Then he winced. “It’s all very well me having a come-to-Jesus moment, but that doesn’t mean that she’ll have me.”
“Nope, she’d be mad to take you on. I’m a far better bet,” Digby teased.
Radd’s “screw you” held no heat. Digby laughed and then his expression turned guarded. Radd turned to see who’d caught his attention and saw Vincent Radebe strolling across the vibrant, immaculate lawn toward them. That meant that the wedding was over.
Radd remembered that the wedding party was supposed to gather by the whimsical fountain for photographs and wondered why Vincent had left the wedding party. Naledi would not be pleased.
The guests wouldn’t be far behind him so if Radd wanted to slip away—he couldn’t wait to track Brin down—he needed to leave soon. Vincent held up his hand in a “wait, please” gesture and Radd frowned, not bothering to hide his impatience.
“I’m having second thoughts about selling the mine,” Vincent said, folding his arms across his chest.
Now why didn’t that surprise him? Radd waited for the wave of anger, the crashing waves of disappointment. Neither arrived. Interesting...
Before he could respond, Digby, looking cool, urbane but very, very determined, met Vincent’s gaze. “That’s your prerogative, of course. Now, if you’d be so kind as to accompany me to the accounts office, I will need your credit card to pay for this wedding at our usual rate. ” He turned to Radd. “Shall I add the cost of the wedding party’s stay at Kagiso, as well?”
If he was backpedaling on their agreement then they’d make him pay. Nobody pushed the Tempest-Vane brothers around. Not anymore and not ever again.
“Absolutely. Vincent’s guests enjoyed the full package at Kagiso.”
Vincent’s deep brown skin paled. “Uh...”
“Thank you for allowing us to host one of the most iconic, and expensive weddings of the past ten years at The Vane,” Digby said, still using that smooth voice. “We are honored and grateful. I’m afraid the bill might sting, but that’s the price for lifelong memories.”
Radd almost snorted. Naledi and Johnathan wouldn’t last the year, never mind a lifetime. “How much are we looking at?” Vincent asked, sounding a little choked up.
“More than a million,” Digby suavely replied. “Maybe a million and a half.”
“And that’s including the stay at Kagiso?”
Radd shook his head. “No, that’s just the cost of the wedding. Your cost to stay at Kagiso will probably be another million.”
Vincent swore and he rubbed his hand over his bald head. Yeah, you tight-fisted bastard, Radd thought, we don’t play.
Radd was over playing games with him, was tired of being the puppet dancing as Vincent pulled the strings. It wasn’t who he was; he didn’t like it and it was time to end this farce. He was tired of paying for his parent’s mistakes.
“Look Vincent, we all know you want to sell the mine, it’s no secret that you are focusing on telecommunications. You’ve held on to the mine, probably because it is so damn profitable. We’ve made you a solid offer and we threw in hosting this wedding, and your stay at Kagiso, at cost. You want to sell the mine, but you’re hoping you can squeeze some more cash out of us. It’s been fun making Gil’s sons dance, you’ve enjoyed a little payback.”
He saw the flash of agreement in the older man’s eyes.
“It’s not going to work,” Radd informed him. “The game stops, here. Today.”
“But everyone knows that the mine is the missing piece of the Tempest-Vane empire.” Vincent threw his argument back in his face.
Radd caught Digby’s eye and his brother nodded, handing him his full support. They could live without the mine, and they would. Brin was right, this was about stuff, other people’s perceptions and, at the end of the day, not that important. The world wouldn’t stop turning if the mine wasn’t added to the group and, since he knew he wasn’t like his father—or his mother—did the rehabilitation of their name matter?
If he took a wife, she might care, but Brin was the only person he could imagine in that role. And she definitely didn’t care.
God, he loved her. Radd hauled in a deep breath and realized that the boulder that usually lived on his chest was gone. So this was what freedom felt like. He rather liked it.
“It’s a business, Vincent, not a lifesaving organ transplant. Sell us the mine, as per our original agreement, or don’t. Either way, we’ll be fine,” Radd told him. He nodded to the wave of guests heading their way, led by the harassed-looking wedding planner.
“You need to join your family, Vincent,” Radd told him.
Vincent glanced at the wedding planner and sighed. “Don’t you want to know what I’ve decided?”
“I don’t care,” he told Vincent, knowing it was the truth. “Frankly, I’ve got something bigger to worry about.”
Digby jerked his head toward the building. “Go get her, Radd.”
“Thanks, Dig.”
“And if she says no, I’ll pick up where you left off. I’m younger, more charming and more handsome than you.”
Funny, Radd thought as he strode into the hotel. Not.
* * *
Abby held her hand as they walked up the steps leading from the beach to the parking lot, and Brin appreciated her support.
So much has happened between the last time I saw these steps last Saturday and now, Brin thought. She’d flown across the country, visited the most amazing game reserve, met Mari, fought with Naledi and, worst of all, handed h
er heart over to Radd.
Who didn’t want it.
“Brin!” Abby snapped her fingers in front of her face. She’d been doing that a lot since Brin had arrived back home yesterday afternoon. She’d been a wreck, and Abby had taken her in her arms, pulled her into their house and let her cry. Then she poured them huge glasses of wine and pulled every excruciating detail out of Brin.
And today, on finding Brin still in bed at noon, she’d pushed her into the shower and then bundled her into her car, telling her that an afternoon in the sun, swimming in the sea, would make her feel so much better.
Brin was still waiting for that to happen.
She still felt utterly exhausted. She’d hardly slept last night—her brain insisted on reliving every interaction with Radd over and over again, always ending with the vision of Radd’s hard face on their trip home, and his scathing words “This can’t go anywhere.”
The crack in her heart widened.
“I sent you a number for my cousin, he’s a real estate agent and he’s trying to find a florist shop owner who might sell. He’s also looking for vacant shops for you to consider.”
“I don’t think I can take Radd’s money, Abby,” Brin quietly stated.
How could she explain that it all meant nothing without Radd? That if she was feeling like this, like the shell of the person she once was, she had no interest in establishing a business, and that she might as well go back to Johannesburg and work for Kerry. Her hell-on-wheels sister couldn’t make her feel any worse than she currently did.
“I know that this is difficult but you have to think with your head, not your heart,” Abby replied, squeezing her hand. “Give it a few weeks before you make any radical decisions about returning his money. You’re hurt and upset and you don’t want to make a huge decision when you are feeling emotional.”
It was a solid piece of advice, but Brin knew she wouldn’t take it. As soon as the money hit her account—it was still looking as empty as ever—she’d ask Abby for his bank account number; she was his employee after all. If Abby didn’t know it or couldn’t get it, she would contact Radd.
