Page 3 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

Radd wasn’t so sure. Despite being a relentless pain in his ass, the Radebes were an influential African family, and working for them would add cachet to anyone’s resume. Kagiso Ranch was also one of most exclusive safari destinations in the world and, while they tried to fly under the radar, he and Digby were two of the country’s richest, and therefore most eligible, bachelors. Between them and the Radebes, there was serious name recognition.

Digby nodded, rolled his shoulders and pulled his laptop toward him. “Well, there’s nothing we can do until then.”

Radd looked at his watch, a vintage Rolex Daytona, one of only a few in the world. It had been his grandfather’s, then Jack’s, and it was his most prized possession. He set a mental alarm. Three hours had to be more than enough time for Andrew to find someone because, really…

How difficult could it be to toss some flowers into a vase?

Brinley Riddell noticed a Porsche Cayenne reversing out of a parking space right in front of the path leading to the beach and swung her nineteen-sixties Beetle Betsy into the spot, ignoring the angry hoots of the driver she’d cut off.

You snooze, you lose.

As she yanked up her handbrake and pulled the key from the ignition, her cell phone buzzed with an incoming message. Seeing her best friend’s profile picture on her screen, she swiped her screen to read the message.

What are you doing tonight and tomorrow?

Was that a trick question?

I’m dining with Bradley Cooper tonight and brunching with Oprah at The Vane at nine.

Brinley grinned at her facetious reply. She and Abby, friends since school, shared a small cottage in Bo Kaap, and Abby knew reading was Brin’s favorite way to spend a Saturday night.

Abby, the queen of Cape Town’s clubbing scene, replied with a short, pithy sentence and a couple of rolling eye emojis.

You’ve got to get a life, Brin. Good thing I’m here to make that happen.

Brin didn’t reply because a) she wanted to get to the beach, and b) they’d had this argument a hundred times before. Brin was very happy to spend the evening alone, while Abby needed people and attention like she needed air to breathe. In that way she was very much like Brin’s influencer, socialite sister Kerry, but, thankfully, in every other way that was important, she wasn’t.

She wasn’t rude or mean or self-absorbed or selfish. Abby liked men but, unlike Brin’s half sister, she didn’t use or play games with them. Abby wasn’t high maintenance.

In a smooth, much-practiced movement, Brin shoved her hand through the open window and grabbed the outside handle to open her door. None of her car doors locked but, by some miracle, her car had yet to land in a chop shop. Maybe it was the bright pink-and-rust color or maybe car thieves had standards, but so far, so good.

Slamming her car door shut, Brinley stepped onto the pavement and pushed her soft, loose curls off her face. It was one of those perfect African days. The summer sun was high in the sky but a soft wind kept the temperature from being unbearable. Standing at the top of the steep set of stairs leading to the beach, she smiled, struck as she always was by the beauty of the white sand and turquoise water. This was one of her favorite beaches and, since moving to Cape Town six months ago, she’d spent many of her free days down here, swimming, reading and, because she could, ogling the hot surfers and the volleyball players.

Looking was always fun, but Brin had a strict “Look, don’t engage” policy. When she’d left Johannesburg, she’d promised herself that she’d give herself all the time she needed to find herself, to discover who she was and what she stood for…

She was a very messy work in progress and dating added complications she didn’t need. And men weren’t, let’s be honest here, anywhere as satisfying as coffee, chocolate or bacon.

Brin leaned her butt against the door of her car and tipped her face to the sun, loving the gentle heat on her skin. She pulled in a series of deep breaths, telling herself that there was no need to rush, that she was allowed to stand still, to take a breath and to take the moment.

There were no emails to answer, text messages to look at, a demanding sister/boss to run after, people to please. It had taken all her strength and a great deal of courage to walk away from her dominating mother and sister, and she constantly reminded herself that she no longer answered to anyone and was a free agent…or she was trying to be.

God, leaving them had been the one and only thing she’d ever done for herself and by herself, and had she not, she would’ve lost herself forever. It had been so damn close…

Brin stared out to sea, trying and failing to remember a time when Kerry’s wants, needs and ambitions weren’t crucially important. Their family revolved around her half sister, and Brin might have still been in Johannesburg, working as Kerry’s very underappreciated personal assistant, had she not caughthersister kissingherboyfriend.

As long as lived she’d never forget their glib, unremorseful responses.

“Look, let’s be honest here. Your sister is smarter, incredibly successful and so much sexier than you. What was I supposed to say when she suggested we hook up…no?”

Well, Malcolm, yes.

Kerry’s eyes had held malice as she had twisted the knife of betrayal.“And, darling, don’t you think that you are punching above your weight with Malcolm?”

Strangely, Kerry’s betrayal and her mother’s reaction to the situation hurt far more than discovering Malcolm was a cheating jerk. On hearing about their fight, their mom instantly dismissed Brin’s feelings and, without hesitation or thought, defended Kerry’s actions, reminding her that her half sister was special, that she should be given a pass because she was beautiful and super famous. And really, who could blame Malcolm for choosing Kerry over her?

Everyone did. And always would.

Standing there, feeling slapped by her mother’s dismissive words, being told she was overreacting, Brin knew she needed to leave, to run, as hard and as fast as she could.

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