Page 20 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

Brin sighed, wondering why she was getting so worked up about something that wouldn’t happen. She would be leaving in a couple of hours and soon this would all be a strange memory.

Radd changed gears as he approached a steep hill, idly pointing out a warthog snuffling in the grass next to the road. Brin grinned at the pig, thinking that it was both ugly, cute and very dirty. It looked up at them, snorted and belted into the bush, its tail pointed toward the sky.

They crested the hill and the bush thinned out, revealing a swathe of open savanna. To the left of the road, the grass had been mowed within and around a small, fenced-off area. Brin leaned forward and saw a couple of gravestones beyond the iron fence.

Brin looked at Radd and saw that, while he’d slowed the car to almost a crawl, he was looking straight ahead, as if he were pretending not to notice the graveyard. She placed her hand on his bare, muscled forearm and ignored the heat shimmying up her fingers, along her arm.

“Who is buried there, Radd?”

Radd didn’t meet her eyes. “I spoke to one of the rangers this morning, and he said that he saw a pride of young male lions out here yesterday, somewhere just over that ridge. Let’s go see if we can spot them,” Radd said, a muscle jumping in his clenched jaw.

She loved to see a pride of lions but, strangely, hearing the history of the small graveyard seemed more important.

“I’d rather look at the graveyard,” Brin told him. “Stop the car, Radd.”

Radd released an aggravated hiss, but he hit the brakes, causing Brin to lurch forward. She braced her hand on the dashboard and lifted her eyebrows at him. “Was that necessary?”

“It’s just a graveyard filled with people you don’t know!”

Wow, if the temperature of his words had dropped any further, his voice box would’ve iced over. Brin knew he was trying to intimidate her and that he expected her to cower in her seat and tell him to drive on. The impulse was there, but Radd didn’t frighten her. He should, but he didn’t. Weird, but true.

It was clear the graveyard was personal and private, so if he didn’t want her to look, she’d honor his request.

“Can I take a look around, pay my respects, or would you prefer that I didn’t?” Brin asked, keeping her tone nonconfrontational.

Radd whipped his cap off his head, ran his hand through his hair and jammed it back down. He leaned across her and opened her door, so Brin hopped out of the Land Rover and started to walk in the direction of the graveyard. Radd, snapping her name, stopped her progress. “Brin, wait.”

Brin watched as she reached behind his seat and pulled out a rifle. He exited the vehicle and slung the weapon over his shoulder. Brin’s eyes widened as he walked around to join her, his eyes scanning the bush around him. “Is the rifle really necessary?”

“This is wild land, Brinley, filled with wild animals. Guests are never supposed to leave the vehicle, ever, and if they do, they are on a walking tour, guarded by our armed rangers.”

Brin nodded to his weapon. “And do you know how to use that?”

Radd rolled his eyes. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be carrying it.”

Designer tailored suits and Hermes ties, Aston Martins and private jets. Battered boots, a cap and a rifle. Who was this man and how many more sides did he have to him? God, he was intriguing.

But, intriguing or not, she was leaving his life in a few hours and that was a good thing. She had work to do, a future to create, and Radd was not only a massive distraction, but also completely wrong for her.

Radd pushed open the small gate leading into the cemetery and gestured Brin to step through. The grass inside the fence was neatly cut and the headstones were free of dust and debris. It was fairly obvious that the area was well looked after.

Brin stopped at the first headstone and stared down at the faded words, unable to make out dates or names. This grave was older than all the others. Brin asked Radd whose it was and when he didn’t answer, she turned around, frowning when she saw him standing at the gate, his back to her, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Could Radd, normally so implacable and composed, be feeling disconcerted and maybe a little sad? Or maybe even a lot sad.

Moving on, Brin stared down at a bright, newer headstone, reading the words. The date of his birth and death followed the name, Jack Tempest-Vane, and the wordsHis absence is a silent grief, his life a beautiful memory. Brin tipped her head to the side, did a mental calculation and quickly realized Jack had to be Radd’s brother, and that he’d died when Radd was in his late teens or early twenties.

Brin put her hand on her heart and gently touched his tombstone before moving deeper into the small cemetery, smiling at the cruder gravestones marking the resting place of beloved pets. Then she frowned when she saw one black, flat, unadorned marker glinting in the sun. Brin wandered over to the far corner of the plot.

Gil and Zia Tempest-Vane.

Radd’s parents.

They were buried in the family plot but just, tucked away out of sight. Brin dropped to her haunches and brushed twigs off the face of the marker. Black marble, white writing. Just their names and dates of their births and deaths—less than two years ago—were etched into the stone.

Brin placed her hand over her heart as a wave of sadness passed over her. Radd and Digby would’ve chosen their final resting spot and their choice was a statement in itself. A part of us, but also…

Not.

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