Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance

by Natasha Boyd

  “Of course. I will keep it all for you. I have some at home in Valbonne in the safe too. It will all be yours when you are older.”

  She slid the drawer shut. “Okay.” She gave one last sniff, wiped her cheek, and then checked her hair. “Oh, do you like my braid? Josie did it. Do you know in America they call it a French braid?” She giggled, our previous conversation seemingly forgotten. “Isn’t that so silly?”

  With a bemused shake of my head, I fingered my daughter’s silky hair that had been expertly tamed. “It’s lovely. You look very pretty. Now go and find Evan, he’ll be wanting to leave to see Grand-père soon.”

  She gave a little wave and pirouetted out of the room, her worries about Arriette’s things in the past.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I gave one last look at the closet and contemplated changing my shirt again, but then sighed and left the bathroom. I stepped out of the stateroom right as Josie came up the stairs.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said, stepping aside. She’d changed into a pale green swim cover-up over the jade bikini she’d bought at the market, and all I could see was her clothing matched the color of her eyes. Did she seriously get more beautiful every time I saw her? She dropped her gaze immediately, and I realized I must have been glaring at her.

  I waved a hand. “After you.”

  She turned, presenting me with a smooth tanned back and that wavy hair I’d like to wrap my hands in. Maybe while I bent her over and—

  She whipped around to me. “Are you … did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” I answered quickly, guilt at my dirty thoughts clogging my throat. “Let’s just go.”

  Her eyes, so vibrantly green with the outfit she wore, narrowed. “Are you sure?”

  “Oui.”

  “I don’t know why, but I don’t believe you.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “But whatever,” she said with a determined set to her lips. “I’m good at this. I’m good at being with Dauphine. You seem disapproving of me the last week. I haven’t done anything wrong, and it bothers me when I think you might think I have.”

  “D’accord,” I said.

  “Okay?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “You have done nothing wrong.” Except climb under my skin. “Also … can you try to be more … invisible … today at lunch?” My father would be there after all.

  Her eyes popped wide. “Excuse me?” Her tone took a sudden turn toward offended.

  Fuck. I was an idiot. I waved my hand up and down. “You are …” I swallowed. I couldn’t say beautiful, she’d see straight through me and realize my blundering crush. Or worse, think I was a sleazeball hitting on her. “I don’t want … um.” Oh, good God. Was I this rusty?

  “Am I not dressed properly?” She suddenly fussed, her cheeks flooding with pink, and her eyes unsure. “I was told I could wear a swimsuit.”

  Fuck. Remorse filled me.

  “No. You look fine.” Fine? She was fucking gorgeous. Unthinkingly, my hand went to her bare arm and squeezed gently for a millisecond before dropping it like it burned. “Let’s go,” I snapped. “We’re late.” I brushed clumsily past her rather than stay cooped up in that small space, mainlining her coconut scent and accidentally and perpetually insulting her.

  But God, I was a beast around her.

  Uncouth.

  Erratic.

  Horny.

  Let’s just hope she was invisible to my father. And moreover, that he couldn’t tell how tightly wound I was around her.

  After a moment I heard her follow me, and we made our way to the back deck. Dauphine began chattering immediately and held her braid up while Josie rubbed sunscreen on my daughter’s neck, back, and shoulders. Then Dauphine returned the favor, and I knew Josie might end up burned later, but there was no way I could offer to put my hands on her skin. I encouraged Dauphine to do a more thorough job, then when it was done we all climbed in the tender for the short ride to the beach.

  I’d hardly seen my father over the last couple of years. As a child, he’d been almost mythical in status to me. He’d put in long work hours, and I had assumed our family money was due to his work. It was years before I discovered our wealth had been my mother’s, and my father was simply always a “try-hard” with a chip on his shoulder. And his time away from home had rarely been for work.

  I’d spent my youth trying and failing to impress him. I’d thought he’d spend more time with me if he could see how smart I was. Consequently, I became the top student. Though that hadn’t been much effort as I was naturally analytically minded. I adored science and mathematics. My father called me a nerd.

  Then I thought if I played more sports, I’d garner his praise, so I joined the football team. That had come harder. When other boys had perfected fancy footwork in the streets and parks after school, I had been headfirst in a book or being chauffeured to music and chess. But I persevered, and finally made it, becoming center forward and then captain of our local club team. My father never came to a game.

  Then when I was an older teen I thought I could garner his praise if I became a ladies’ man. A wild child. After all, he seemed to respect men with a roving eye, who weren’t chained to their wives and families. And so, I drank. I fucked. I broke hearts. But all it got me was a reputation as a fuck up, tears from my mother, and contempt from my father who came to see me as a wastrel. As did the French press who so closely monitored our family.

  It was only after I realized the family money was just something my father had married into and spent frivolously, and that he’d only respect me if he needed something from me, that I finally got my head out of my ass. The scales had fallen from my eyes, and my father had become … just a man.

  A weak man.

  A man who made questionable deals, trusted the wrong people, and slept with the help.

  Someone I had no intention of emulating.

  When we arrived at the beach club, my father was in true form. His eyes missed nothing, not the tension in my shoulders and not the expanse of leg on display by my daughter’s minder. Women at the beach club wore less than her, but Josie still tugged on the hem of her cover-up, and she still drew eyes to her like a magnet. My own included.

  “Papa,” I said, forcing a joviality I didn’t feel into my tone as he clapped me on the back more heavily than he needed to.

  I could tell he was feeling on top of the world. Bold and optimistic that he could get me to invest in his latest venture. “Great to see you,” he greeted me. “Just great. And my sweet little Dauphine!” he crowed as she leapt into his arms. “Who is your new friend?”

  “Papie,” Dauphine babbled. “This is Josie. She only speaks English. She’s American. And she draws amazing buildings. And she’s teaching me how. And she’s really nice. She swims with me any time I want. And I think Papa doesn’t like her. But I like her. Please tell him she has to stay.”

  “Dauphine,” I snapped, my voice coming out like a strangled bark. How had my daughter picked up on my discomfort? “Hush.”

  My father’s eyes homed in on Josie as he took her offered hand. “Enchanté,” he greeted and brought her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the back of it. “I’m Etienne Pascale.”

  Josie darted a glance at me before smiling wanly at my father and extricating her hand.

  “Ahh,” another voice boomed. We turned to the large and swarthy Italian heading our way. I recognized the sleazebag friend of my father’s. Alfredo Morosto. He’d been involved in so many shady deals, I was sure my company share price would drop ten percent on Monday simply because we were in the same restaurant. Now it seemed he was having lunch with us.

  Great.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  JOSIE

  The white sand beach and cool, clear, aquamarine water made the bay perfect for a beach club. Evan took Mister P, Dauphine, and me from the boat to a jetty where we made our way onto the beach. My first few steps on solid land made me feel like dancing.

  “You okay?�
� Evan asked.

  Xavier whipped around to look in my direction.

  I couldn’t see his eyes through his sunglasses. “Forgot what firm ground feels like,” I said, probably reminding him how I felt about boats in general. “I’m fine.”

  His mouth tightened and I raised my eyebrows in question, then lowered my sunglasses over my own eyes.

  Dauphine took my hand, and I smiled down at her, and we all continued our walk. Attendants in white linen shorts and turquoise shirts ran between groups of loungers, setting up umbrellas and bringing ice buckets of champagne and rosé and bowls of cut fruit on ice. There was a little beach bar made of driftwood and a boardwalk we followed through some low, thick vegetation until it opened up into a large outdoor restaurant hidden behind the dunes, shaded under driftwood and canvas awnings. White painted chairs and tables with blue tablecloths were packed into any available inch with their legs in the sand. Waiters hurried to and fro, squeezing in and around the occupied tables.

  The sound of clinking glass, laughter, and popping corks made it seem like one big party. So, this was how the one percent did the beach? I chuckled to myself, remembering the way Tabs, Mer, and I always had to take turns lugging the cooler and our plastic chairs from where we could find parking, sweat dripping into our eyes, all the way to the boardwalk beach access on Sullivan’s Island or Folly Beach. Which reminded me, I needed to call them soon.

  Dauphine and I followed her father as he made his way to the front of the restaurant and greeted a tall maitre d’ who kissed Mr. Pascale on both cheeks and ruffled his hair. I gathered he’d known him for a long time, and it made me smile to see my boss treated like a little boy.

  I felt eyes on us, in a sort of who’s who way. It gave me a weird, uncomfortable feeling, reminiscent of the days following my stepfather’s arrest. Glancing around in my sunglasses, I almost did a double take as I recognized a famous model who’d been big in the nineties and at a separate table the ex-governor of California who had also been a movie star at one point. My heart rate sped up. Meredith and Tabs would freak out. God, I missed them. Meredith, especially, would get off on star spotting.

  Not that anyone cared who I was, but I suddenly felt extremely exposed being in such a high-profile place. My cheeks burned and I felt vaguely nauseous. Nothing like being given the once over and summarily discarded to remind one of how insignificant one’s life could be perceived. Even though it brought a feeling of relief. The eyes definitely followed Xavier Pascale though.

  The maitre d’ made a quick fuss over Dauphine, and then pointed us to a table in a corner of the restaurant under the twisty branch of a tamarisk tree.

  Before we could sit, we were joined by an older man I knew instantly must be Xavier’s father.

  He had the same thick cowlick at his forehead, though his was dark gray, and his hair was cut almost identically, short but curling around his ears and collar. The man and his son were roughly the same height. Interesting that they didn’t hug upon greeting each other.

  When it was time for my introduction, I inhaled, overcome by nerves. Pushing my sunglasses up to my head, I stepped forward and stuck out my hand. “Dauphine’s nanny. Josie. Nice to meet you.”

  The older Monsieur Pascale took my hand in greeting and then pressed damp lips to my skin. “Enchanté. I’m Etienne Pascale.” I gave a fake smile, pulled my hand away, feeling slightly soiled.

  Another man approached us, and Xavier’s tension seemed to ratchet up seventeen notches. “My friend here is Alfredo Morosto,” Etienne told me. Then he chuckled and said something in French under his breath that made our new arrival laugh too, but caused Xavier to wince.

  “Come.” Xavier pulled the chair out at the closest end of the table, gesturing for me to sit, and I sat down opposite Dauphine. I expected him to sit next to her, but he came around and took the seat on the other side of me, protecting me from having to sit next to either of the two older men. My shoulders relaxed slightly, relieved to have him between me and our lunch companions. Glancing briefly at the menu in French, I told Dauphine to order me whatever she was having to make it easier.

  We both ended up with Shirley Temples, which earned me another eyebrow raise from Xavier.

  The three men were talking earnestly, though they kept their voices low. Alfredo Morosto was a beefy man with a massive gold Rolex on his wrist. His shirt was unbuttoned to halfway down his torso, and a heavy gold chain lay against his gray chest hairs and years of over-tanned flesh. He glanced around the restaurant at least every five minutes. I couldn’t tell if he was looking for something or making sure no one was listening to them. I gave up trying to follow the language because it suddenly seemed like they’d switched to Italian, and while Dauphine and I played a game of hangman on the paper table setting, I watched their body language instead. It took a while, but suddenly I realized why Alfredo Morosto kept looking around. I thought maybe he wanted someone to see him, or more specifically to see who he was having lunch with. That was confirmed when he finally saw someone he knew and stood and clapped a young man in a pink polo on the back as they shook hands. Brief introductions were made to Xavier and his father. Dauphine and I kept playing, ignoring the visitors. The first greeting seemed to open the flood gates of people stopping by the table. There were a few curious gazes my way, but when I didn’t smile or catch anyone’s eye and directed all my attention to Dauphine, they lumped me in as the help soon enough.

  Next to me, Mr. Pascale outwardly portrayed a calm exterior, but under the table, his one leg bounced incessantly in tiny movements. Stress seemed to pour off him in waves, though I had a feeling I was the only one who noticed.

  Under the table, his fingers were making quiet, destructive work of a small paper placard that had stated the table was reserved when we first arrived. He’d already destroyed his paper coaster. Then he moved to picking at the hem of his shorts against his thigh, surreptitiously checking his watch.

  The urge to still his hand with mine beneath the table, or press my foot against his in the sand, to offer him some kind of comfort, was overwhelming.

  I picked up my glass and took a long sip of ice-cold Shirley Temple. As I did so, I stealthily slid my paper coaster toward his place setting, earning a small surprised puff of air and acceptance as he casually picked it up and got to work.

  Xavier drank sparkling water and didn’t touch a drop of the wine his father poured for him.

  His father was watchful. Whenever I caught his gaze, I’d paste a quick placid smile and look away. Thank God for my sunglasses.

  The whole lunch was awkward and seemed interminable. At least the spaghetti with clams Dauphine had ordered us was mind-numbingly delicious.

  “Alors, where are you from, Jenny?” the elder Pascale suddenly asked me when Alfredo Morosto excused himself to go to the bathroom.

  All eyes turned to me. I was down to the last few sips of my drink, and I’d reached the cherry. “Uh. I’m from America.” I didn’t bother to correct my name as I fished the cherry out of my glass. Actually, I was rather relieved he’d forgotten it.

  “Yes, but where?” he pressed.

  “Charleston. It’s on the east coast, in South Carolina.”

  “Ahh, yes. I know of it.” His gaze shifted to his son, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You spent some time there recently, didn’t you?”

  I glanced at my boss, surprised, as I bit down on the sweet and chewy cherry, rolling it around my tongue. He’d been in my city?

  Xavier hadn’t taken his sunglasses off, but I felt the shadow of his gaze on my mouth as I chewed. Then he shook his head and took a sip of water. His breath hitched and made him cough. His father must really make him uncomfortable. “I was there briefly, yes,” he responded. “Visiting a yacht company.”

  “Oh? Which one?” I asked.

  He mentioned a name, and I wondered if it was the one on King Street where the French lady, Sylvie, worked. She and I often ended up getting coffee at about the same time at Armand’s Coffee
Shop. We didn’t know each other well, but over time, we’d started to greet each other and make small talk, which was how I knew where she worked. “I think I know it.” It felt odd to know he’d been in my hometown, walking my streets. So close. No, not odd. Destined. My insides squeezed tight at the thought he’d been there before I’d known him. As if there was a break in the timeline of my life somehow. Like I should have known. How could I have had this strong a reaction to him from the very second of meeting him and not known when he’d been near me before? Which was all ridiculous really. I shook my head, grabbed my water glass, and took a long sip, turning my attention to Dauphine’s drawing of a mermaid. “She’s beautiful,” I said.

  Etienne Pascale shook his head with a light snort as if what I was saying was somehow amusing.

  I frowned, lost and uncomfortable, this time by the odd tension that thrummed between father and son.

  “Papa, can Josie take me down to the beach now?”

  “Of course, mon chou.” Xavier sounded relieved.

  Etienne Pascale leaned sideways and hauled out a fat brown wallet from his shorts. “Tenez,” he said to me and Dauphine and held out a large denomination of euro bill. “For ice-cream.” He switched to English.

  Dauphine snatched it.

  “It’s a bit much, don’t you think?” Xavier grumbled.

  His father chuckled. “Let an old man spoil his only granddaughter.”

  “Merci, Papie! Come,” she said to me, and I was all too eager to leave.

  “Bathroom first,” I said, and I grabbed our shared beach bag. “Nice to meet you,” I said to her grandfather.

  He stood as I did, and when I offered him my hand, he took it and brought his mouth down to meet my skin again. “Pleasure is all mine. And I apologize for messing up your name … Josie.”

  At my side, Xavier was rigid. His leg that I could still see under the table froze as he reached calmly for his water. I glanced at his face and saw nothing but sunglasses and a placid smile before he stood too. Ever the gentleman. “Text me and let me know where you set up on the beach,” he said to us. “I’ll join you when I am done here.”