Page 38 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

Brin followed Radd across the walkway onto the main deck and watched as he set the picnic basket down next to the small table. He tossed his rucksack in the general direction of the bed and gripped the railing, shoving his sunglasses onto the top of his head. He scanned the bushveld, and Brin saw the tension ease in his shoulders and the hard line of his jaw soften.

He loved every inch of Kagiso, but this place obviously held a special place in his heart.

Brin dropped her bag onto the bench seat at the end of the bed and, slipping out of her shoes, walked barefoot across the smooth planks to peek behind the screen that formed the headboard of the bed. Her breath hitched again with delight; she’d expected rustic and basic, yet the bathroom was anything but. Instead of a shower, an antique cast-iron slipper bath took pride of place in the center of the space and his and hers sinks covered a reed wall. Pulling open a door made from reeds, she smiled at the private toilet, one of her biggest worries about sleeping in the bush alleviated.

Brin left the bathroom area and walked back toward Radd. By now it was late afternoon and, with the setting sun, the temperature had dropped, too. Rubbing her arms, she sank to sit cross-legged on one of the huge cushions, her eyes bouncing over the incredible landscape.

An eland bull drifted across the savanna and a warthog scampered past him. With the sun setting, the light turned ethereal and magical, a time for fairies and pixies, pure enchantment.

Pity she and Radd weren’t currently talking.

She’d expected him to tear strips off her for being rude to Naledi. She kept waiting for the hammer to fall, for him to say something about her behavior, to castigate her for injecting herself into a situation that had nothing to do with her. But hours had passed and he’d said nothing and, maybe, he didn’t intend to.

Why? Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of complacency? When she relaxed, would he rant and rave? It was a favorite tactic of Kerry’s, which she’d learned at their mom’s knee.

“Will you please just tell me that I was out of line earlier so that we can move on?” Brin demanded, frustrated.

Radd handed her a small frown. “But you weren’t wrong, I was,” Radd said, balancing on his haunches as he inspected the picnic basket. He rested his arm on his thigh as he looked at her. “You were right earlier, Naledi was being a class-A bitch. But I can’t afford to piss her, or her father, off. But, you’ll be happy to know, I did apologize to Mari, and promised her and the staff a massive bonus when the Radebe party leaves.”

Brin’s eyes widened at his admission. Really? Wow. For the first time, her angry outburst hadn’t been met with derision or payback, sarcasm or delayed mental punishment.

Annoyance crossed Radd’s face, but Brin sensed it wasn’t directed at her. “Vincent Radebe now owns what used to be a Tempest-Vane mine, one of the most productive diamond mines in the world,” Radd said as he stood up, two crystal glasses and a bottle of red wine in his hand. “Over the past ten years, Digby and I have made it a mission to purchase back all the companies that our father inherited and then discarded, including The Vane, Kagiso and other properties and businesses.”

“Did you have to buy back the family home and vineyard?” Brin asked, curious.

Radd shook his head. “That was in a separate trust, and my parents couldn’t sell it. It’s handed down through the generations from oldest son to oldest son.”

“Wow, your ancestors didn’t much value girls, did they?”

“Sadly, no.”

Brin hadn’t expected him to talk and definitely hadn’t expected him to open up. Not wanting to stem the flow of words, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees and waited for more. When he didn’t speak, she rolled her finger in the air. “You were talking about Vincent…”

“Yeah. Vincent’s a canny operator. He quickly sussed out how much we want the mine and made us jump through hoops to get it. He also made us pay over the odds and jerked us around because he lost a pile of money on a deal my father screwed up.

“The mine is productive, well run and profitable, and he wanted to exact a little revenge on Gil through us. We had to work so damn hard to get him to consider selling.” Radd dropped down to sit on the cushion opposite her, his navy eyes frustrated. He glanced from her to the picnic basket and waved his glass in its direction. “If you are hungry, there’s hummus and red pepper dip and crackers. We’re having a cold lobster, crab and prawn salad and crusty bread for dinner, followed by handmade Belgian chocolates.”

It sounded delicious, but she was hungry for conversation, for an explanation.

Radd sipped his wine before setting it down next to his cushion and draping his forearms over his bended knees. She could barely remember the well-dressed man in the designer clothes she’d met on that beachfront in Camps Bay, the one driving a super expensive car and looking like a modern-day hero billionaire. This Radd, dressed in an expensive but lightweight cotton shirt and expensive cargo shorts, looked far more disreputable and, in a strange way, more human.

More approachable.

“Vincent tied the purchase of the mine to certain favors he knew I could grant him,” Radd explained. “Naledi is his only daughter and she has him firmly wrapped around her little finger. She wanted the biggest, shiniest, brightest, most noteworthy wedding in the country and that meant having it at The Vane. Her wedding at The Vane and a week at Kagiso for the wedding party were sweeteners I had to throw in before Vincent would start negotiations to sell the mine.”

Ah, now his pandering to those impossible people made sense. Brin swallowed some more wine before resting the foot of her glass on her knee. “So, when this is over, you’ll own the mine?”

Radd nodded. He looked down at his feet, then past her shoulder and then back to his feet. Brin tipped her head to the side, wondering why he was avoiding her gaze.

“There’s something else you’re not telling me. I mean, you don’t have to but…”

He took a long time to answer and, for a minute, Brin didn’t think he would. “When we have the mine, we are going to launch a massive PR campaign and rebranding exercise to, hopefully, rehabilitate the family name.”

“Because of your parents?”

Radd nodded. “Their reputation is like a bad smell that won’t go away.” He stared down at the wine in his glass, his expression thoughtful. “Dig and I have worked so damn hard and there are things we want to do, projects we want to explore, but we can’t doeverythingalone. And certain business people won’t touch us because there’s a belief that we are as dishonest as our father, as out of control as both our parents.”

“And you think a PR campaign will change that?” Brin asked.

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