Page 25 of How To Tempt The Off-Limits Billionaire

Their clothing and demeanor screamed privilege, prestige and power. Ro wondered how they’d react if they heard that she could, probably, buy and sell them a hundred times over. The thought gave her courage so she slowly rose, pushed back her shoulders and lifted her chin.

“My name is Roisin O’Keefe, I’m a guest of Muzi’s. He’s not here, unfortunately,” she said, not bothering to hold out her hand for them to shake. They’d probably ignore the gesture.

“Oh, we know,” the older woman said. “Take a seat.”

Ro, annoyed by her barked order, gripped the edge of the back of the chair. She was about to demand what they wanted when the younger man spoke. “I’m Keane Matthews-Reed, and this is my mother, Susan Matthews-Reed.”

He, at least, was attempting to be courteous.

“Susan Matthews,” Susan corrected, and Ro wondered if she imagined the flash of embarrassment in Keane’s eyes at her imperious attitude.

“Okay,” Ro said, “but I have no idea what you could want with me.”

“For God’s sake sit down and ask the housekeeper to bring us a champagne mimosa,” Susan said. “I’m parched.”

Keane frowned at his mother. “Not everyone has champagne for breakfast, Mother. And you said that we weren’t staying long enough for a drink.”

Mother? Who called their mom “mother”?

Susan glared at him. “For God’s sake, Keane, you know that I prefer to be called Susan.”

Wow. Okay, then.

“I could offer you some coffee,” Ro replied, hoping they wouldn’t accept her polite gesture.

“We’ve just had some, thank you,” Keane said. He sat down and rested his hands over his flat stomach, his green eyes cool. “Susan, you said you had something to discuss with Roisin, so can you get on with it so that I can get home?”

Susan crossed one long, still slim leg over the other and twisted an enormous diamond ring on her middle finger. That was, if it was real, a hell of a rock. And, judging by her Chanel bag, Louboutin heels and Prada sunglasses, it had to be real.

“I want to know how you are connected to St. Urban and why Muzi recently rented the property’s vines,” Susan demanded.

Ro stared at her, feeling blindsided. She definitely didn’t have enough coffee in her system to deal with Susan. “Uh...”

Keane sat up straighter and glared at his mother. “For God’s sake, Susan, you told me we were coming here to welcome her to the valley. And what the hell are you talking about?”

“Muzi signed a lease this week on behalf of Clos du Cadieux to rent over one hundred acres of Merlot vines from St. Urban,” Susan told him, her eyes not leaving Ro’s face. “I’ve been trying to speak to him, meet with him, all week but he’s been ducking my calls and avoiding me.”

Honestly, Ro couldn’t blame Muzi; she would do the same thing in his position. “Why on earth would you think that Ms. O’Keefe knows anything about Clos du Cadieux business?” Keane asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“She’s been spending a lot of time at the property,” Susan replied, her tone defiant. Her eyes connected with Ro’s and her ultrathin eyebrows lifted. “Why?”

Ro rested her arms on the back of the chair and held Susan’s hard glare. She’d worked at a private, exclusive kindergarten in Trousdale, one of the most expensive neighborhoods in LA, and faced down many an entitled helicopter mommy. Compared to those lionesses, Susan was a toothless tiger.

“I fail to see how anything I do concerns you,” Ro told her, her voice dropping below freezing point.

“I am a board member of Clos du Cadieux. I have a right to ask what the CEO is doing here, and why he’s here with you,” Susan retorted.

“For God’s sake, Mom,” Keane groaned, obviously embarrassed.

“Why did he accompany you to St. Urban? What is your connection to the trust that owns the property? What are you hiding?”

Keane rolled his eyes and sent Ro an apologetic look, his shoulders lifting in a small “What can I do?” shrug.Telling her to shut up would be a good start, Ro silently told him.

“And why do you look familiar?”

Ro returned her gaze to Susan, her mind racing. If this nosy-as-hell woman got wind of who she was, Ro did not doubtthatbombshell would reach Cape Town by nightfall and she’d be tomorrow morning’s headline.

She needed to nip this in the bud, right now. “I thoroughly object to you rocking up here with your impertinent questions but I suspect you won’t leave until I answer. I met Muzi through Digby Tempest-Vane when I was working as an au pair for his fiancée’s niece.” All true. It was best, she’d read somewhere, to stick to the truth when one was lying. Now she needed to fudge a little. “Digby heard that the lawyer looking after his parents’ trust—”

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