Page 2 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

But the final contract had yet to be signed, and Vincent Radebe, the current owner of the diamond mine they were trying to reacquire, and his demanding daughter stood between them and their end goal. The Sowetan-based businessman hadn’t been shy about tacking on some nonbusiness-related demands. His youngest child, and only daughter, was recently engaged and he was determined to give her the wedding of her dreams.

Because the Tempest-Vane brothers owned the most exclusive and sophisticated hotel and wedding venue in Cape Town, Vincent wanted the reception to be held at The Vane. Vincent also demanded Radd accommodate the wedding party at Kagiso Ranch, their six-star, phenomenally exclusive game reserve, for the week leading up to the wedding. All at cost.

Frustratingly, Radd could only find an opening for both venues eight months after his and Vincent’s initial discussion, thus delaying the sale. They couldn’t launch the extensive PR campaign, and the rebranding of the Tempest-Vane group of companies—reassociating their surname with corporate social responsibility and social justice instead of their parent’s wild life, dissoluteness and licentiousness—until they owned the mine.

Radd’s low store of patience had run out seven and a half months ago.

His phone rang again, and Radd snatched it up, thoroughly annoyed. “Naledi, what’s the problem?”

“Radd, my life is ruined!” Naledi wailed. Radd rolled his eyes as he put his phone on speaker. “Everything is falling apart!”

“Of course her life is tough, she only received twenty-one million on her twenty-first birthday,” Digby murmured, loud enough for Radd, but not Naledi, to hear.

Radd knew what Digby was thinking: when they were twenty-one and twenty-two, they’d ceased all contact with their dysfunctional and narcissistic parents and the only cash they had had access to was in a trust fund set up by their grandfather to pay for their education. Luckily, Gray Tempest-Vane vastly overestimated the amount needed to pay for their education and they’d taken every extra cent they had had and invested in a tech company developing a new type of payment system for internet transactions.

One small online retailer had picked up their system, then another and then they had landedYours!,one of the three biggest online retailers in the world. The offers to buy them out had started rolling in and, five years ago, they had sold the company to a tech giant, and Radd and Digby had become two of the youngest billionaires in the world. Still, certain financial doors remained closed, thanks to their father’s legacy of defaulting on loans and being economical with the truth. Vincent Radebe was a case in point, but they’d persisted.

Radd intended to change the collective mindset of the old school captains of commerce and industry.

“What’s the problem, Naledi?” Radd demanded, gripping the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“The flowers have arrived at Kagiso Lodge…”

“And?” Radd asked, eyeing the mountain of work he needed to plough through before the end of the weekend. Because life was currently finding it fun to screw with him, Vincent wanted him to host the pre-wedding party so, the first thing on Monday morning, he was flying to Kagiso Lodge.

Just shoot him now.

“The flowers are there, but my florist isn’t! She’s had the gall to schedule an operation for appendicitis.”

“What do you want me to do about it, Naledi?”

“Find me another florist, Radd,” Naledi demanded in her breathy, baby-doll voice. Radd wasn’t fooled; Naledi was her father’s daughter and below her gorgeous surface resided a band of tungsten, a hard layer of give-me-what-I-want-now.

Jesus wept. Radd was worth over a billion dollars and he’d been reduced to asking “How high?” when the Radebes said “Jump.” Normally, he was the one who issued orders, who expected to be obeyed, who made demands and expected others to work their asses off to give him what he wanted before he wanted it.

The ill-fitting, uncomfortable shoe was on the other foot, and Radd didn’t care for the sensation.

“The staff at the lodge have all taken flower arranging courses, Naledi,” Digby interjected in a reasonable tone. He mimed putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger.

“I willnotsettle for less than the best!”

“Then we’ll most definitely find you a florist and we’ll make sure they are at the ranch tonight,” Digby told her, sounding ridiculously reasonable. Radd sent him a heatedWhat the hell?look, and Digby mimed the wordMine. Then, in case Radd didn’t catch his meaning the first time, he mimed the word again.

Right.Gotcha.

After agreeing to find Naledi a florist, Radd disconnected his call, immediately pulled up another number and impatiently waited for his assistant to answer his call.

As briefly as possible, he told Andrew what he wanted. “Find me a florist, get them to meet me at the office at two-thirty. I’ll fly them to Kagiso tonight and return them to Cape Town when they’re done. It shouldn’t take more than a day.”

“Rate?” Andrew asked.

“I don’t care, just get me someone good.”

Radd disconnected and looked longingly at the state-of-the-art coffee machine on the far side of the room. Normally Andrew provided him with a steady supply of caffeine but, since the offices were empty, as he and Digby were discussing sensitive corporate and financial matters, it was self-serve. And, somehow, despite both of them having above-average IQs and post-graduate degrees in business, neither he nor Digby could make a decent cup of coffee.

Radd tried to ignore the headache building behind his eyes. “Andrew will work on the florist problem.”

“I doubt he’s going to find a celebrity florist who’ll drop everything to fly to Kagiso at a moment’s notice.”

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