Page 34 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

“Brinley, enough!”

“Too late, Radd. If you won’t stick up for them then I will!” Brin told him, furious at his lack of support for his people. “I know how Mari and her people feel, it’s deeply frustrating trying to please people who refuse to be pleased.”

Brin’s temper was slow to erupt but unstoppable when it did, and she was fast losing control of it. The combination of having her morning of passion interrupted—would that ever happen again?—her disappointment in Radd for not sticking up for his people, and feeling like she’d rolled back six months and was dealing with her sister again was a volatile combination.

Hauling in some air, she sent Naledi a scathing look. “God, if your fans could see you now. You’re acting like an entitled, spoiled, complete witch. And here’s a fun fact, the world does not revolve around you.”

Brin, shaking with anger, jammed her index finger into Radd’s bicep. “Seriously, if you cave and open up that private residence, I swear I will never talk to you again.”

“Are you going to let her talk to me like that?” Naledi screamed at Radd. “Who does she think she is?”

Brin caught Mari’s eye and she lifted her chin in a quick movement that neither Radd nor Naledi caught. But Brin understood her silent message:Thanks for the support but enough. Now, retreat.

It was a good plan. Because if she stayed she might be tempted to scratch Naledi’s eyes out.

“Let’s all calm down, shall we?” Radd said, his voice perfectly cool and even. “Mari, escort Miss Radebe back to her room. Can you send a bottle of champagne, our best vintage, and have the staff squeeze some fresh orange juice for mimosas? And maybe a basket of croissants? I’ll catch up in a few minutes.”

“Of course,” Mari replied.

Brin felt Radd’s hands on her waist and she yelped as he easily lifted her and walked her backward into his villa. He kicked the door closed with his foot and backed her up against the wall. Brin looked up into his furious face and dismissed her fear. Radd would not hurt her, physically.

Emotionally, he could rip her apart.

“How dare you interfere in a situation that has nothing to do with you? You have no idea what you are risking!” Radd demanded, his voice coated in anger and disdain. “This ismyproperty,mybusiness,myguests,mystaff. You are…”

She waited for the “nothing,” the “you’re not important,” but the phrases never left his lips. Instead they hung between them, loud and tangible.

Radd’s hands dropped from her shoulders and he shook his head, frustration rolling off his body in waves. “Don’t confuse my attraction to you with me giving you permission to meddle in my life, Brinley Riddell. Because that will never, ever happen. Understood?”

Radd waited for her nod before dropping his hands and leaving her, slumped against the wall.

Radd wasn’t a fool, he’d seen the disdain in Brin’s eyes hours earlier when he didn’t defend Mari or his staff. But worse than that was seeing her respect for him fade.

Radd, walking back along the wooden path toward his villa, jammed his hands into the pockets of his shorts, convinced that his head was about to split apart.

Five days ago, if someone had dared to interfere with his business, his decisions or his life, he would’ve, without hesitation, told them off and immediately broken off their liaison. Thanks to having a reputation of being cold as ice and unemotional, nobody, ever, questioned him. Few people had the strength or the guts, but Brin had simply waded into a battle that wasn’t hers to wage.

He was both frustrated and proud of her.

Radd rubbed his hands over his face, irked. Before she dropped into his life, his emotions were tamped down, buttoned-up, kept corralled and constrained. Brin, somehow and strangely, held the key to unlock a myriad of unwanted and unneeded emotions.

But she didn’t know, and he couldn’t explain, that he was caught between doing what wasright—yes, he should’ve defended his staff—and what wasneeded, which was keeping the Radebes happy until the sale agreement for the mine was finalized.

Was the mine and the PR campaign worth it? In a few months, it would be the second anniversary of his parents’ deaths. Yeah, sure, some upper-echelon businessmen were still pissed at his father, at deals that went south, money that was lost. But, Jesus, that happened more than twenty years ago…

Did his actions still reflect on him and Digby? Was buying the mine, being manipulated by Vincent, hosting this damn week and the wedding worth all the crap and stress he was dealing with?

For the first time in, well, forever, Radd wasn’t sure whether it was. And, God this hurt to admit, was their stupidly expensive PR and marketing campaign just a way to boost his ego, an expensive way to show the world that youcouldget oranges from apple trees?

Would anyone, apart from him and Digby, and the workers at the mine, even care whether there was a new school, better working conditions, an increase in salaries?

Shouldn’t that be the norm, not the exception?

Radd rubbed his hands over his face, feeling utterly exhausted. And he still had to deal with Brin, who probably thought he was a weak fool. But she had no idea how much control he’d needed not to tell the spoiled socialite exactly what he thought of her and her asinine demands. That was why he had remained quiet, he’d been trying to control his own temper. Brin hadn’t held back and, while he did wish she hadn’t jumped into the fray, he couldn’t help but admire her for doing so.

Brinley, Radd was starting to believe, was a good person to have in your corner. But he knew that he’d lost that chance…

God, what a mess.

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