Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance

by Natasha Boyd

  “I’m giving a list to Evan later. Is there anything you need?” Andrea asked from across the breakfast table, bringing me out of my reverie.

  “Actually,” I glanced at Dauphine who wasn’t paying attention, but I dropped my voice lower anyway, “I’ve been meaning to ask how you deal with … periods?”

  Of course Dauphine reacted to my lowered voice and zeroed her gaze in on us. I had to hope her English hadn’t improved that much yet.

  “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure it’s on the boat.”

  My expression must have remained unconvinced or uncomfortable looking because Andrea laughed.

  “I live for asking Evan to pick up the most obscure and/or embarrassing things to see if I can shake that unflappable demeanor. Lay it on me. Special-order-sized tampons?”

  “La la la,” said Rod, loudly walking into the galley with his fingers stuck in his ears. Over the last few days, I’d pegged the deckhand as the class clown of the group. And he’d been ridiculously courteous to me since his comment about me going topless. He loved to make lame jokes, but even he had his limits apparently. And tampons were his limit.

  I chuckled at his expression and turned back to Andrea.

  “Having your period on board is a real pain,” she said. “I started getting three-month shots last year. Works great for me. Expensive though.”

  “Okay, I’m out,” grumbled Rod and left the room, coffee in hand.

  “Isn’t all birth control?” I asked

  “Luckily in France, despite being a traditionally Catholic country, they’d rather provide contraception than abortions, and they understand gender equality and access to healthcare when it comes to things like that. Actually, in a lot of things.”

  “God, in America they don’t want people having abortions or cheap access to birth control. Makes zero sense.”

  “Ahh, the patriarchy alive and well. You on the pill? Maybe you can go back-to-back on a pack to avoid having your period just this once.”

  I was on the pill, so I guessed I could consider doing that.

  “What’s a period?” asked Dauphine.

  “Tes règles,” Andrea explained, translating it to the French.

  Dauphine shuddered, her eyes wide. “I do not want to get that. The girls at school say you have blood. Is it true?”

  I slipped an arm around her small shoulders. “Every woman gets them. It will be a sign you are growing up.”

  “Is it with pain?”

  “It can be a little, yes.”

  “Then I do not want to grow up. And I do not want them.” She frowned as if remembering something. “Last year one of the girls, Cécile, I think she got them and everybody was laughing at her. She cried.”

  “It’s okay, when it happens for you, you don’t have to tell your friends, just tell your—”

  Shit.

  “Papa,” Andrea jumped in. “Or me.”

  “Or me,” I added. “You have my phone number, and you can call me whenever you need to.” And I found that I meant every word. I’d only been here a week when Dauphine had cornered me and asked me very seriously if we were real friends, and if I would call her when I was back in America. I’d given her my American number and told her to use it anytime.

  I shared a look with Andrea.

  Dauphine sat in troubled silence and continued to eat.

  “Anyway, put whatever you like on the list for Evan,” Andrea said to me. “We’ll see how he handles it.” She stood and took her coffee cup to the dishwasher. “And put at least one outrageous thing on there. I swear, one of these days I’ll find something he can’t get me.” She gave a smirk. “That man sure is resourceful.”

  “Anything going on there?” I asked with a sly glance at Dauphine to make sure she didn’t get my meaning.

  A cloud passed over Andrea’s face. “No,” she said emphatically, but somehow I didn’t quite believe her. “I don’t … date. I can’t. You sure you don’t want this last piece of baguette?”

  “Ha. No chance.”

  “Oh, before I forget, you and Dauphine are accompanying Mr. P for lunch today. You are all going to Le Cinquante-Cinq. It’s a famous beach club.”

  Dauphine clapped with joy. “Today?”

  “We are?”

  Andrea smiled at Dauphine’s excitement.

  That didn’t leave us a whole lot of time. “Come on, Dauphine. It’s time for our morning yoga class.”

  She hurriedly stuffed her last bite of baguette in her mouth.

  “Oh,” I said. “Is Evan picking us up to go to the beach club? What time should we be ready?”

  Andrea shrugged. “I’ve given up trying to get Evan to pin down times. Let’s say, be ready by noon. He said it’s safer to be unpredictable. ”

  “Which drives me crazy,” said Chef, entering the kitchen.

  “You and me both,” Andrea responded.

  I gently guided Dauphine toward the door. “We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

  In the cool breeze and bright morning sun of the top deck, I cued up the yoga video. I inhaled deeply and exhaled per instructions, trying to expel any negativity inside me. I cracked an eye. Beside me, Dauphine was cross-legged, finger and thumb of each hand touching, and eyes closed. I loved how seriously she was taking our yoga.

  Closing my eyes again, I tried to drown out the Jet Ski and a small nearby motor as well as all the feelings of guilt that I hadn’t called my mother in days to see how she was. The uncomfortable feeling inside about my work, and how I hadn’t heard anything back from sending out my resume yet, pressed against me. I didn’t want to face the fact I’d quit when I could have just hung on a bit longer at Donovan & Tate while looking for another position. I’d been hasty. And now I was sitting on the other side of the world. It was gorgeous, but it was a fantasyland. In more ways than one. But … gratitude, I reminded myself. The female yoga instructor told me to let any thoughts blow away like clouds, and I tried. I really tried. But there was a stubborn ice-eyed one that was hard to dislodge. Then we started into the first set of poses.

  We had to pass on some because there was no way to balance while the boat rocked even gently. I mean Warriors One and Two, sure. Tree pose? Forget about it. Eventually we ended back in Downward Dog for a final set of Vinyasas. I tipped my butt up, trying to get as much into the stretch as I could one last time. I opened my eyes and was staring vacantly through my ankles when a set of familiar white-soled boat shoes and strong male ankles stepped into view from the stairwell.

  There was a strangled sound from the man in question, and then Dauphine’s excited gasp next to me.

  “Papa!” Dauphine almost tripped in her haste to extricate herself from her pose and get herself into her father’s arms as fast as possible.

  “Oof,” he sounded.

  I got to my feet awkwardly, light-headed from being upside down. I’d just displayed my butt in skin-tight leggings straight at my employer. “Hi,” I managed, face throbbing.

  He nodded, looking everywhere but at me. “Bonjour. I’m sorry to have been gone so long.”

  “It was fine. Dauphine and I are doing a yoga class.”

  He cleared his throat. “I see. Which I interrupted. Apologies.”

  Dauphine stripped off her t-shirt down to her bikini and stepped into the plunge pool. “It is so fun, Papa.”

  “We were almost done,” I said. “Uh, I didn’t know you’d be back. I thought we were meeting you at lunch.”

  “Josie, are you coming in the water?” Dauphine asked me, not waiting for her father to answer my question. I’d promised her we’d get in the plunge pool after our class to cool off.

  There was no way I was stripping down to my bikini in front of my boss. But I also didn’t want to break my promise.

  “Papa, you should do yoga with us in the mornings. And you must come in the pool, yes?”

  Oh God, no. Get in that tiny plunge pool with my hot boss? I didn’t think so.

  “Non, mon chou. I have
to go and discuss plans with Paco. But I will be up again in about twenty minutes. Ok?”

  She stuck out her bottom lip but nodded.

  A twenty-minute warning to not be in front of him with my butt in his face when he came back up. Embarrassment crawled through me.

  After a cool off in the pool, Dauphine flew downstairs to get changed, and I followed at a more leisurely pace. I was passing the open master cabin when I heard Evan and Mr. P talking inside. They were talking in low voices. And I was sure I’d heard my name. I couldn’t help slowing my pace. In fact, after a moment, I realized I’d stopped completely and was straining my ears. I thought I heard Monsieur Pascale say something was impossible and a word that sounded like “coo,” to which Evan chuckled and said something in a teasing tone. I frowned as I tried to make sense of it with my limited French. I shook it off and reprimanded myself for being nosy. Just in time, I realized, because when I rounded the corner to head down the next set of stairs to deck two, I heard the master cabin door close as if they’d just realized it was left open. Whoever had closed it would have seen me listening.

  Chapter Twenty

  XAVIER

  After interrupting yoga on the top deck, I stumbled back down the stairs, my normally reliant, powerful legs untrustworthy.

  “Whoa. You okay?” Evan asked, just leaving the bridge.

  “Fine.” I ran a hand over my stubbled chin. “I need to talk to Paco about the lunch plans.”

  “Already taken care of.”

  “Good,” I said distractedly and headed down the next half stairwell toward my office bedroom, this time clutching the handrail. “Hey. Please ask Andrea to move me back in here, I don’t think I need to be downstairs anymore.” God knew I couldn’t sleep one more night across the hall from the hot nanny. If I heard her get up and go to the top deck again, I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t follow.

  “All right,” Evan responded as he followed me into the stateroom. “As soon as you tell me what just happened on the top deck. You look a little shaken.”

  I walked to the windows and stuck my hands in my pockets. “They were doing yoga.”

  “And?” Evan asked.

  I turned and shot him a look, the vision of Josephine Marin’s round, delectable ass pressed backward, covered in skintight pink, seared into my brain. “And her ass—” I broke off.

  Evan’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Do go on.”

  I scowled.

  Evan made an inpatient continue gesture with his hand. “And her ass …”

  “It was just there,” I snapped. “In my face.”

  “In your face?”

  “My God, you know what I mean.” My hand scrubbed over my eyes and shot through my hair. “Are you sure we can’t get another nanny.”

  “I’ll look into it.”

  “You will?”

  “No. Get a hold of yourself, man.” My friend laughed. Laughed. He thought this was all some huge joke. It wasn’t a joke. She had set my equilibrium completely off balance. I gave him a look. The look. The one I gave people in the boardroom who couldn’t answer a direct question. The look that told him how very thin the ice was.

  Evan raised his hands. “Forgive me. But will you listen to yourself?”

  “I am. Now if you would too, that would be grand. What do I pay you for, anyway?”

  “To keep you safe and entertained.”

  “Does your protection not extend to my sanity?”

  Evan pressed his lips tightly together, expelling a breath through his nose, almost choking in his attempt to curb a fresh bout of chuckling.

  I snorted in disgust and stalked over to my desk. “And now I have to put her in front of my father.” My father, the philanderer, had boned almost every nanny I had growing up. When I was thirteen and no longer in need of one, my mother finally got sick of pretending she didn’t know. So of course, her husband started to venture farther afield. Who knew if he was still into the help these days, and I hated that it was automatically where my mind went. I think he liked the power dynamic, which made it sick as fuck.

  “Maybe leave her and Dauphine behind?” Evan suggested.

  “I promised Dauphine. Plus, it’s her grandfather. I’d rather get a visit between them out of the way. It will also give me a reason to get out of there early. No, they have to come with me today.”

  I didn’t want to put into words what happened to me when I was in Josephine Marin’s vicinity. I was acutely aware it was most likely a simple case of abject lust. An extreme one, sure. And I also knew it had a lot to do with not having been with anyone since Arriette died, and even for a while before that. And Ms. Marin was amusing, warm, and smart. And beautiful, of course. But in an utterly natural and down to earth way. A vision of the three of us strolling through the streets of a small village looked too much like a family for my stomach. She was sweet and gentle with Dauphine. Never dismissive. It was her job, of course. But she had a way with—

  “Are you even listening to me?” Evan said, exasperated.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said, I got the background info on her. She quit her job. After looking at the reputation of one of the partners, I think there was likely some sexual harassment.” So she quit instead of sleeping her way up. Good for her. And fuck the guy who put her in that position. And that was why, as her current boss, I needed to keep my head around her.

  I gave my head a quick shake to clear it. “Anything about her stepfather?”

  “Her mother remarried. Apparently, her stepfather perpetuated a massive fraud and got himself jail time. The guy is from Charleston. By the sounds of it, a lot of who’s who in the city invested with him. Did you ever hear the name when you were there?”

  God, poor girl. She’d shared as much with me. I was glad to have it corroborated by Evan. But I knew what it was like to have a father who embarrassed you.

  “No, I don’t think so.” I’d only been there a few days, checking on the more eco-friendly yacht I’d commissioned. I’d be sad to say goodbye to this boat, but honestly I wouldn’t be sad to leave the memories of Arriette behind. “But that does remind me, “I added. “I need to respond to the email from the yacht company. I’ll reach out to Marie Louise, get her to follow up. Did you get any more background on the bridge project my father wants me to invest in?” I asked.

  “Nothing more than what I told you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Should be a quick lunch then. Because obviously the answer is no.” Hopefully my assistant at my office in Sophia Antipolis had gotten us an out of the way table. I was beginning to hate the who’s who feel the beach club Le Cinquante-Cinq had. People wanting to see and be seen. It was worse at this time of year, right after the Cannes Film Festival, too. It helped that my family had been going there every summer for over fifty years, back when it was the only beach club of its type on Pampelone Beach, otherwise getting a reservation would have been a joke. Of course, it had new owners now. They’d tried hard to keep the laid-back atmosphere. I wondered what Josie would think of it. I didn’t think money and celebrity turned her on, but of course, I’d gotten that wrong about women before.

  “I’ll meet you on the back deck,” Evan said.

  Christ, I couldn’t think of anything without my mind wandering to Josephine Marin. I nodded at him absently.

  “Papa?” Dauphine darted into the room, brushing past Evan who ruffled her hair.

  “Yes, mon ange?”

  She flung herself on my bed and began to chatter. Of course, it all centered around Josie. Josie was so nice. Josie was so talented. Josie was teaching her English, and Dauphine was teaching Josie French. Josie had been teaching Dauphine to draw. Dauphine might want to be an architect like Josie one day. Josie was running out of blank pages on her sketchbook, and Dauphine wanted paper as fine as Josie’s because the paper we used for the printer was not good for drawing. And she wanted watercolor pencils just like Josie’s. It went on like a stream of consciousness.

  I smiled
to myself at her happiness and exuberance as I changed into a pair of turquoise swim shorts and a white linen button down in the closet. Pausing at the door to the dressing room though, I suddenly frowned. I fingered the beaded evening dress, one of so many items of Arriette’s things I had never dealt with.

  “Papa? What are you doing?” Dauphine appeared at the edge of the door. My hand dropped from her mother’s dress. Her eyes tracked to my hand.

  “Mon ange,” I began and cleared my throat. “I was thinking perhaps I would move maman’s things. Would that be okay with you?”

  She chewed her bottom lip, her blue eyes big. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Where will we put them?”

  “I don’t know yet. But there are many people who don’t have such fine things and maybe we could give—”

  She shook her head vigorously, her eyes filling. “Non,” she whispered.

  “Come here,” I said gently, and she fell face first into my belly. “Shh. It’s okay. Tell me, what are you thinking?”

  Sniffing, she pulled away, leaving a trail of tears on yet another of my shirts. “What if maman sees us take her things away and thinks we don’t love her anymore?”

  “Oh, mon chou.” My chest grew tight. “No. Maman cannot see from where she is.”

  “In heaven?”

  “Of course, in heaven. In heaven she only sees and feels with her heart, and her heart knows you will always, always love her.” I had no idea where that pearl of wisdom had dropped from, but it seemed to have a calming effect on Dauphine.

  “Truly?”

  I swallowed. “Truly.”

  We hugged again.

  “Is there anything you would like me to keep for you?”

  Dauphine looked down the row and the shelves, then she walked to a drawer and opened it. “Maybe some of her jewelry?”