Page 21 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

“Brin, let’sgo.”

Brin had a hundred questions for Radd, but his hard face andDon’t askexpression had the words dying on her lips. Closing the gate behind her, she followed Radd down the path back to the Land Rover and quietly thanked him when he opened the passenger door for her.

After slamming her door shut, Radd stowed the rifle behind the seat and walked to his side of the car. Instead of starting the vehicle, he rummaged behind the seat again and pulled out a thermos. Unscrewing the top, he poured coffee into the thermos’ mug, took a sip and handed the mug to Brin.

“Sorry, but we’ll have to share.”

“This isn’t five-star service, Tempest-Vane,” Brin teased him, wanting to push his tension away.

“If you were on a proper game drive with one of our rangers, you’d be having breakfast at the edge of a water hole, sitting at a table. You’d have a mimosa in your hand and a croissant on your plate while the chef whipped up a crab, lobster, asparagus and truffle omelet.”

Brin took back the cup and looked at him over its rim. “I’m sorry you lost your brother and your parents.”

Radd’s jaw hardened and his hand gripped the steering wheel, the knuckles white. He stared past her, his expression grim. A minute passed, then another. Brin tightened her grip on the mug and looked back at the graveyard, accepting that Radd wasn’t prepared to discuss his family. And why would he? She was his temporary employee, someone he’d hired to do a job for him, someone he’d shared a kiss with.

A melt-your-socks-off kiss, but still. It meant nothing to him, and it should mean nothing to her. She was trying not to let it.

Whether she was succeeding was up for debate.

“I’m presuming you know something about my parents…”

Brin darted a look at him, unsure how to reply. Sure, she did, who didn’t? She’d read about their escapades in the newspapers and celebrity magazines, admiring the way they thumbed their nose at the world.

But she was also old enough to realize her entertainment was Radd’s embarrassment. “It must have been hard.”

Brin caught the flash of pain that jumped in and out of Radd’s eyes. “Hard? Yeah. It washard.”

And wasn’t that the understatement of the year? Radd jerked his thumb at the graveyard. “We had a funeral in Paarl, at the family home, but their ashes are over there. It’s a tradition for family members to be buried here, but we were pissed at them, still are, I guess. When they died, we weren’t talking.”

“For how long?”

“The best part of twenty years.”

Brin’s mouth fell open.“Wow.”

Radd shrugged. “To be fair, it wasn’t such a big deal, they weren’t around much. And, God, they were a constant source of humiliation.”

Brin wanted to hug him, to pull him into her arms, but she knew he wouldn’t appreciate any displays of sympathy. Look, she wasn’t completely crazy about her own family, but she couldn’t imagine never seeing them again. “You didn’t speak to themoncein all that time?”

One of Radd’s powerful shoulders lifted in a shrug. “My father left a message for me two days before the accident, saying they were coming home, that there was someone they wanted us to meet.”

Brin’s curiosity bubbled. “Who was it?”

“God knows. Knowing my parents, it could be their dealer or a sister-wife for my mother. My parents were as mad as a box of frogs,” Radd replied, taking the mug of coffee.

“Did you ever look into their papers, check their phone messages, read their emails?” Brin demanded. “Do you have his computer, his diary, his phone? What did you keep?”

Radd’s lips twitched at the corners. “Slow down, Nancy Drew. We boxed all his personal effects, the boxes are stored in an attic at Le Bussy, the family home. Look, it was a throwaway comment from a person not renowned for truthfulness. It was probably some stripper he’d met who’d caught his eye.”

Brin wrinkled her nose. “Did he ever introduce you to strippers before?

Radd’s smile broadened a fraction. “No contact for twenty years, remember? Have some more coffee…” Brin took the cup back, sipped.

“You have an active imagination,” Radd continued. “I’m convinced my father was just blowing smoke, he was really good at doing that.”

“But…”

That muscle in his jaw jumped again, his expression hardened and the strong hand on the wheel tightened. Then, Radd glanced at her and his fabulous blue eyes were a deep, dark, intense blue. And filled with pain. And guilt. And a little anger.

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