Page 43 of How to Undo the Proud Billionaire

John, elderly and dignified, gave her a regal nod, but Radd saw the hint of pleasure in his eyes at her question. “I’m very well, thank you, Miss Brin. How did you enjoy The Treehouse?”

Brin’s under-her-eyelashes look, directed at him, was a little audacious and a lot naughty. “It was lovely, thank you. Some bits were better than others. The food was divine. And the setting magical.”

Radd ignored her flirtatious innuendo and impatiently waited for her to join him at the bottom of the stairs. Feeling irritated and off-balance, he placed his hand on her lower back to usher her up the steps leading into the reception area. He steered her toward the deck, away from where they could hear the voices of the Radebe party.

Radd saw the question in her eyes, knew that she’d picked up on his change of mood. He felt his Adam’s apple bob, tasted emotion in the back of his throat. He desperately wanted to gather her to him, bury her face in his neck and hold on tight. He wanted to make plans with her for the rest of his life, starting with not letting her go when they touched down in Cape Town tomorrow afternoon.

But because that was impossible, because he didn’t trust anybody, couldn’t believe in love and commitment—he refused to, love led to hurt and loss, and why would he do that to himself?—he pushed that thought away. Digby’s text messages were a fantastic reminder that this was a moment out of time, not the beginning of something real, something lasting. That he could only controlhiswords and actions.

It was way past time to backpedal. And to do it hard and fast.

“Are we on the same page, Brinley?” he demanded.

Brin frowned, obviously confused. “I don’t understand.”

“We had sex last night—” he couldn’t call it making love; that was too intimate “—but nothing has changed between us. This can’t go anywhere.”

Brin blanched at his harsh tone, the softness in her eyes fading. Then, needing to put some distance between her and the verbal blow he’d dealt her, she stepped away from him. Hurt jumped into her eyes but he couldn’t let her feelings distract him.

They were on a runaway train and he had to hit the brakes, to stop this madness in its tracks.

“Excuse me?”

Radd raked his hands through his hair. “You, us, nothing is going to happen when we get back home. I hope you know that.”

Brin took another step back as pain settled on her face and in her eyes. He noticed a faint tremble to her chin and her suddenly pale face. Too hard and too bold, Radd cursed himself, fighting the urge to apologize. No, he was being cruel to be kind, she had to know that whatever was bubbling between them would expire in less than twenty-four hours.

Then she straightened her shoulders, pushed steel into her spine and her eyes met his. Brin’s unexpected and withering glare made him feel two feet tall. But before she could respond, Naledi called his name. For once, it was a welcome interruption.

“Your tribe awaits, my lord.”

Radd didn’t appreciate Brin’s sarcasm.

“Radd! Look who arrived while you were away!”

Radd turned and saw Naledi, wearing an eye-poppingly brief bikini and nothing else, standing a few feet from him, her arms around the waist of her fiancé Johnathan Wolf. It took all of Radd’s willpower to pull a welcoming smile onto his face, to hold out his hand for the groom to shake. Radd then turned to Brin and placed a hand on her back, silently urging her stiff body forward.

“Johnathan, meet Brinley Riddell.”

“Oh, Brin and I know each other,” Johnathan cheerfully replied. “But I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Radd, Brinley.”

Radd turned to look at Brin, watching as the last of her color faded from her face.

Oh, God…what now?

“And how do you know Brinley, Jon?” Naledi demanded in that hard-as-hell voice that made Radd, uncharacteristically, want to run for cover.

“She’s Kerry Riddell’s sister, darling.”

Judging by Naledi’s harsh scream and Brin’s white-as-a-ghost face, her being Kerry’s sister was, in Naledi’s world, the equivalent of a plague of locusts or a runaway groom.

This… Radd gripped the bridge of his nose and squeezed.

This was why he hated secrets and surprises. And personal connections. And why he kept his distance from people.

A few hours ago she’d been lying in Radd’s strong arms, completely at ease in her nakedness, exploring what it meant to give and receive pleasure. They’d made love over and over—three times? Four?—and with each pass she’d grown bolder, more confident in her power as a woman, tapping into that age-old power to make a man burn and squirm.

Radd had taken her to new sexual heights, far beyond what she’d experienced and even more than she’d imagined. In between their bouts of lovemaking, they’d talked, swapping stories about their childhoods, their favorite places, foods and movies.

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