Page 45 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

“Can I see your phone, Ms. Riddell?”

His words took some time to sink in and when they did, Brinley stared at him, feeling hot and cold and utterly alone. She’d grown up as the outsider, constantly looking in, but she’d never felt so abandoned. A cold, wet, sharp wind sliced through her. “You want to see my phone? Why?”

Don’t do this, Radd, please.

Radd just stared at her, his hand up, waiting. “This awful scene will be over a lot quicker if you comply.”

Brin felt the scrape of a sob in her throat, the burn of tears. Yep, last night meant nothing. She, and her feelings, meant even less. Tossing her head, she gathered her emotions and forced them down, refusing to let Radd or any of the wedding party see her cry. Pulling her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, she slapped it into his palm. Sucking in some much-needed air, she forced herself to look at Naledi, at Johnathan, Mr. Radebe and finally back at Radd.

Her heart was breaking, but her pride was still intact. Thank God something was.

“Go for it. But you won’t find any photos of Naledi or anyone else on the device, because I don’t care.” She forced herself to meet Naledi’s eyes, flat and dark. “I don’t care how many Instagram followers you have, about your wedding or your dress or your family. I don’t have any social media accounts but, sure, feel free to check.”

Radd’s fingers closed around her phone and when Naledi reached to take it from him, he jerked it out of her reach. “I’m the only one who looks at this phone,” he growled.

Much too little and far too late, Tempest-Vane.

Brin didn’t care; he could inspect her phone, so could everyone there. It didn’t matter anymore. “Feel free to keep the device,” Brin told Radd, her voice brittle. “I’m going to the room to pack up my stuff. I expect to be on a flight out of here shortly or, by God, I will walk.”

“Can I explain?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Brin saw Radd drop down into the seat opposite her, his big frame blocking out the soft leather as he fastened his seat belt. Brin briefly met his eyes before looking out of the plane’s window. Far below Radd’s fancy jet, the city of Cape Town lay nestled between the mountains and the sea.

He’s taken his time to approach me, Brin thought; his jet was making its descent and within minutes they would be on the ground. Brin did not doubt Radd had timed it this way to minimize their confrontation. That was fine with her, there wasn’t much to say.

She loved him, he didn’t love or trust her. Simple, really.

She couldn’t wait to get back to her cottage, to what was familiar. Abby’s unwavering friendship, her soft bed, being able to cry into her own pillow.

But, at some point, she had to put her feelings and tumultuous emotions aside and start to think. In fact, moving her attention to her future was easier than nursing her battered and bruised heart.

She didn’t want to leave Cape Town—she loved it—but how could she stay in the same city Radd did? And how could she take his now-tainted wad of cash? If she did, and established her flower shop, every time she walked inside she’d be reminded of Radd and this crazy, confusing time where she fell in love with, and had her heart broken by, him.

She’d done a job, fulfilled her end of the business arrangement and she deserved that cash, her sensible, business brain argued. What’s the option here? To stay poor and to struggle?

Or to go back to Johannesburg with her tail tucked between her legs?

Her pride wanted her to make the grand gesture, to tell him to go to hell and take his money with him, but if she did that, she’d be in a worse position than she was before. Going back to work for Kerry was the second of two very bad choices…

If only you didn’t have to go and fall in love with the man, Riddell, how stupid are you?He was unemotional, driven, rude and single-minded and falling for him was properly idiotic. Really, she needed someone to save her from herself.

“I told the Radebes that there were no photos on your phone.”

Of course there weren’t. And she so didn’t care.

Radd placed his ankle on his opposite knee. Brin allowed her eyes to wander over him: he still sported heavy, sexy stubble, but he’d changed into a pair of dark brown chinos and pulled on an aqua-colored linen, button-down shirt. His cuffs were rolled back and he wore a different watch from the high tech, too-many-buttons-to-count one he’d been wearing earlier. This watch was simple, timeless, gorgeous.

He was back to being the beautifully dressed billionaire while she was still dressed in the same clothes she’d been wearing when she left The Treehouse. Brin felt underdressed and a little gauche. Damn him for making her feel less than, for making her feel like she did when she was the tiny, unimportant moon circling Kerry’s glowing planet.

“You’re really angry.”

Well, duh. Sure, she was furious with him, but she also felt hurt, sad and so very tired of being on the outside looking in. She’d lived on the edge of her family’s circle all her life and she just wanted her own spot to shine, somewhere where she was celebrated and loved. Someone to take her side, someone to stand in her corner.

Radd, as he’d demonstrated earlier, wasn’t that person. She’d never find the peace she craved with him, within the world he inhabited.

“Rich people and celebrities expect privacy, Brinley,” Radd quietly stated.

“I worked for my sister as her assistant for a long time, so that’s not something you need to tell me,” Brin told him, ice in her voice. “I managed a lot of her PR and I understand how the game is played. I don’t like the rules, but I understand them. Apart from the fact that I’m not remotely interested in Naledi and her wedding, I would never invade her privacy like that. I thought you understood that much about me.”

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