Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance

by Natasha Boyd

  Holy fuck.

  The entire universe exploded then contracted in an instant to that single sensation.

  He let go immediately, but I’d already gone down sideways. I came up spluttering at the same time he surfaced and stood in the waist-deep water. He gave a head flick to shake the water from his hair, his eyes dark and guarded.

  My eyes strayed downward as I hauled in short choppy breaths. Water ran in rivulets down his body, his chest speckled with dark chest hair. I swallowed against the remnants of the flash fire that had left me aching. I’d never experienced chemistry like that. Ever. I wondered how my body hadn’t instantly vaporized into steam. With sheer force of will, I made my brain and my mouth work. “Dauphine, you are a traitor!” I called, my voice rough and transparent, and tore my eyes off him. I looked around for her but she was already paddling away as fast as she could. I glanced back at her father, and he too was backing away from me fast. He better make sure I didn’t catch him, I thought hysterically.

  I couldn’t be held liable for my actions.

  I might actually bite him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  By the time we got back into the small tender at the beach club jetty, it was late afternoon. I hadn’t all out burned, but my skin felt tight and uncomfortable and I was headachy, thirsty, and exhausted. Dauphine had wiped sunscreen over my back and shoulders, but I could tell I probably had streaks of angry skin.

  The three of us were quiet as we rode with Evan back to the looming yacht anchored a short distance away. I imagined I could feel Xavier Pascale’s eyes on me, and his broodiness made my stomach feel tense.

  “You all have fun?” Evan asked. He couldn’t be that clueless to the tension, could he? The smirk playing around his mouth said otherwise.

  “Yes.” Dauphine nodded, followed by a large yawn. I followed suit.

  Xavier smiled fondly at his daughter and squeezed her shoulders.

  The water became a little choppy, and my knee swayed sideways and bumped up against my boss’ leg. I tried to shift, but it was no use if I needed to feel anchored in my spot. I tried to ignore the sensation as it happened again. I stared at the horizon and the approaching yacht. Our tender slowed. But all my attention was drilled down to the one spot where my skin brushed against his. I must have sunstroke. There was no other explanation for why I couldn’t shut my stupid brain off from overthinking and my body from over feeling everything.

  And then we were at the yacht, and Xavier moved forward to help Evan, and then helped his daughter out.

  Below deck, a quick look over my shoulder in my bathroom mirror confirmed the streaks of sunburn. I showered, moisturized, sprayed some aloe awkwardly over my shoulders, hoping I got it in the right place. Then I put on a loose-fitting t-shirt, drank a whole bottle of water, and lay down for a few minutes.

  When I awoke, it was dark. Moonlight streaked in, creating a faint colorless glow. My cabin door was closed. I sat bolt upright, utterly disoriented. I fumbled for my phone and saw the time was just after midnight. I’d missed dinner.

  I padded to the bathroom, holding on as the boat rocked gently. Then I went to my open door, debating if I was going to go take a breather up on the top deck. I hadn’t woken with a racing heart I suddenly realized. And I didn’t feel hungry, so I wondered what else had woken me. Just then I heard a whimper. Then Dauphine talking. I poked my head out of the cabin. I waited in the silence to hear her again. There was another louder cry and then something unintelligible. She was having a nightmare.

  Across the hall Xavier Pascale’s room sat dark and silent, like he wasn’t there. Then I remembered he’d moved back upstairs.

  Dauphine’s scream pierced the silence, making me jump.

  I hurried into her room. “Shhh,” I crooned, seeing her whip her head from side to side. I climbed on to the bed, and she sat up with another cry. My arms went around her and she tried to struggle.

  “Dauphine, shhh. It’s me. It’s Josie. You’re okay. You’re safe. Shhh.”

  “Josie?”

  “Yes, my love.”

  She collapsed back on the bed.

  “What were you dreaming about?”

  “Maman,” she whispered. Her shoulders shook, and she curled onto her side.

  I brushed her hair from her temple. It was damp.

  “Mon chou.” Xavier was a dark figure in the doorway.

  “Papa.”

  He came around the other side and climbed onto the bed. He was shirtless with just a pair of athletic shorts.

  I should leave them together, but I was struck motionless at the sight of him. Jerking out of the stupor, I shifted to move.

  “Non.” Dauphine reached out and grabbed my hand. “Reste ave moi,” she murmured.

  “Your father’s here now—”

  “S’il te plaît. Please.” She took a wobbling breath. “Please, you both stay?”

  Over her head, Xavier Pascale watched me, his eyes almost black in the darkness. I couldn’t tell if he was appalled by his daughter’s plea. But if she needed me, just for a bit, I didn’t want to make a scene simply because being near her father sent my body chemistry into chaos.

  I nodded and shifted down so I could lie down and face Dauphine. I smelled her coconut shampoo and beyond that the faded smell of Xavier’s woodsy cologne, musky male, and warm, sleepy skin. I mashed my lips between my teeth.

  Dauphine grabbed her father’s arm and wrapped it around her middle and then turned toward me, curling into a ball and nestling her chin under mine.

  Stiff and tense with the stark, familial intimacy of the moment, I screwed my eyes shut so I didn’t have to face her father less than a foot away from me on the pillows. Her movement had pulled him closer. His hand and wrist were millimeters from my belly. I struggled to think what I could do with my arms. Naturally, one would drape one over her small body, but his arm was there. I settled for resting mine awkwardly along my side.

  Xavier’s fingers must be stroking her arm or something because I could sense the small and gentle rhythmic movements.

  Dauphine’s shuddering breaths calmed and deepened, and her body relaxed.

  I opened my eyes slowly, looking at the top of her head and wondering how long it would take for her to get into a deep sleep so I could slip out.

  I couldn’t help my gaze moving up to where I knew Xavier lay.

  Dark eyes studied me. I saw gratitude warring with conflict.

  Keeping my breathing as steady as I could, I held his gaze. Long moments passed. The longest I’d allowed myself to really look at him, I realized. Certainly the longest we’d locked gazes. I surrendered to the experience, as if he was a decadent chocolate mousse after I’d been on a years-long diet. It felt rich, intoxicating, and really, really bad for me. The tension grew, but underneath was an intimacy that felt deeper somehow, perhaps due to the sleeping child resting between us, but also underscoring the fact that Dauphine was the most important element here. And somehow it also came with the message that anything or anyone that might threaten her, Xavier Pascale wouldn’t hesitate to cut out, cleanly and without hesitation.

  His eyes began a slow roam over my face.

  He didn’t have to say anything for me to understand just a fraction of how weird this situation must be.

  It was too intimate.

  It was too much like a family.

  It was so intensely personal.

  Strange things were happening inside my chest, and making me want to reach out and brush his dark hair from his temples.

  Things that made me want to place a kiss in his daughter’s hair as if she was mine.

  Ours.

  For an inkling I understood the pure connectedness, fierce protectiveness, and familial love a mother must feel when she shelters her child with her mate.

  His gaze returned to mine. And then suddenly the heat of his fingers pressed against the fabric of my shirt.

  My breath stuttered to a halt, my lungs seizing, as a current swept over my skin.
Was this really happening?

  Fingers trailed down and then they were on my skin, on my belly where my tank must have ridden up.

  My mouth parted on a puff of air.

  And then there was nothing. His fingers were gone.

  He closed his eyes, leaving me alone in the dark, wondering if it had been an accident. Wondering if I’d imagined it.

  I let out a long breath, not realizing until I released it how tightly wound my entire body had been in the last few minutes.

  Dauphine’s inhalations were deep and relaxed, indicating the state of her slumber.

  Gently, I rolled away and climbed out of bed. Without looking back, I crept to my room, and leaving the door open, climbed into my own bed.

  I blinked in the morning light and found my mental bearings. Images of last night flooded my mind. Dauphine’s nightmare. Her damp hair. Her small body. Her father’s eyes in the dark.

  His fingers on my skin.

  My breath caught.

  A knock at my door sounded again. “Josie?” Andrea’s voice called.

  The skin on my shoulders scratched like burning sandpaper as I shifted to my elbow. Sunburn. Ouch. “Come in,” I croaked.

  Andrea poked her head around the shiny mahogany. Someone must have closed my door. “Hey there, are you sick?”

  “No. At least I don’t think so. Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I added when I saw the time. “I think the sun wiped me out yesterday.” I scrambled to get up.

  She waved her hand. “It’s fine. I was just checking on you. See you up top.”

  Sitting up, I clutched my head as it pounded. It was worse than a hangover.

  I showered and went to find Dauphine and get some water, some painkillers, and something to eat. I found my charge vegging out in front of a High School Musical marathon.

  “No swimming today,” she groaned. “And no reading. I’m too tired for anything.”

  “Not too tired for Zac Efron though,” I said with a smirk.

  “Never.” She grinned.

  I looked out the window. “Where are we today?” I asked, remembering I’d vaguely been aware of the boat engine running very early this morning as I must have slipped toward waking at some point before zonking out again.

  Dauphine shrugged, her eyes never leaving Zac’s chiseled cheekbones. I feel ya, girl.

  “Okey, dokey,” I said. Truly, I was relieved to have a calm day. I hadn’t taken a day off since I arrived. After checking with Andrea that it was all right to do so, I went out on the shaded stern deck to sketch. I was down to my last page.

  The next day the boat would be moving out to sea, and we’d be heading back along the coast toward Nice and Monaco. I glanced longingly over my shoulder toward shore. I’d been doing some online research about all the architectural influences up and down the coast. The fact that the area had remnants dating back thousands of years made me desperate to experience some more of these little places. And Corsica, an island that had some of the most wide-ranging architectural influences, from pre-Roman to Pisan to Genoese still standing, was only four hours away by boat.

  By boat!

  And I was on a damn boat. I wanted to weep. Then I wanted to laugh at how much I was beginning to appreciate boats.

  “What is so amusing?”

  I jerked in surprise and turned to see Xavier had come out the sliding doors. He reached up and held the outdoor stair railing, spreading his feet to find balance as the boat sliced through the waves. The wind whipped his black hair over his forehead.

  “Sorry. What?”

  “It looked as though you laughed out loud to yourself.”

  “I did?” I ducked my chin, embarrassed that he’d caught me changing my mind about boats. “I was just thinking I might be learning to appreciate boats.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

  “Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” I sassed. “It’s a long way from appreciating to loving them.”

  “Did you have a bad experience with a boat?”

  “Not every feeling has to be rooted in the past.” I lifted a shoulder.

  He cocked his head. “But they normally are.”

  Interesting. “Well, not that I remember,” I said. “I’ve never really spent any time on a boat before this one.”

  “Even living in Charleston? That’s an accomplishment,” he said. Good lord, Xavier Pascale was … joking with me.

  I let out an awkward laugh. “True.”

  I noticed then that he held a white canvas tote bag in his other hand. Seeing my gaze made him look down. “Oh. I came to give you this.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure if they are the right things.”

  I stood and took the bag he offered. Inside were two large blank sketchbooks, a set of really expensive drafting pencils, watercolor pencils, and a hardback book. “Wow.” I smiled.

  “Dauphine said you were running out of paper.” He waved a hand, dismissively, suddenly gruff and looking extremely uncomfortable. “It’s nothing. I’m simply replacing since Dauphine has been using up your supplies.”

  “Thank you, really.” I looked back down at them, and then to the book. It was a hardcover, small coffee table type book, and the picture on the front was of a castle. I turned it over. “And this?”

  “It’s, uh, about the architectural influences in the area around where I live, in Valbonne. I thought you’d be—I thought it would be good for Dauphine. My mother, she, uh, helped raise the funds to produce the book for the historical society she is part of. I had a copy. I thought you would appreciate it more. And perhaps show Dauphine. It’s in French, of course.”

  “Of course. Thank you. This was extremely thoughtful.”

  “As I said. It’s nothing.” Then he added, “I was only thinking of Dauphine.”

  I looked up at him and gave him a grateful smile. “All the same, I really appreciate it.”

  He nodded.

  The boat suddenly slowed its motion, and I lurched forward. My hands were full, and unable to catch myself, I was suddenly face first in Xavier Pascale’s hard chest.

  “Oof,” he huffed out a puff of air, his arms catching me.

  The smell and heat of him rushed in, and before I could even get my scattered wits together to peel myself off him, his strong hands gripped my upper arms and roughly set me away from him.

  “Watch yourself,” he snarled.

  I almost stumbled backward from the force of action and his words. I blinked in shock. My cheeks burned with heat. “I didn’t—I’m sorry, I—”

  “Careful down there,” called Paco from behind Xavier. And I realized he could see us from up on the bridge. “I should have warned you. I thought I saw a piece of wood in the water. Must have been a trick of the light.”

  Anger fought with my embarrassment. Had Xavier honestly just thought I’d purposefully fallen into him? God. I yanked the canvas tote open and stowed my other sketchbook in with the new stuff. “Thank you for the supplies,” I said stiffly, unable to look at him. Then I brushed past him.

  His hand reached out and took my arm, stopping me.

  I swung around. “What?” I snapped, though my voice felt choked up, and I prayed to God I didn’t burst into tears.

  He let go but said nothing.

  I stared at him, both of us locked in a battle of God knew what. Was he so emotionally constipated he couldn’t fucking apologize for acting like an arrogant tyrant?

  “I’ll be downstairs if Dauphine needs me,” I gritted out, hoping I didn’t sound like a woman unhinged.

  He gave a small nod, his face devoid of any recognizable emotion, and I raced down to my room.

  Alone in my cabin, I angrily refreshed my email. God, maybe I’d just get an amazing job offer to, I dunno, redesign the façade of Charleston’s ugliest building, the Holiday Inn in West Ashley. Though honestly, that building should just have some carefully laid charges and be put out of its misery. I dialed my mom’s number, unsure if she’d answer. It had been weeks since we’d spo
ken. Meredith had set her up with an app so I could call over Wi-Fi.

  “Hello?” Her voice sounded small and vast at once. She sounded like home.

  My ears and nose stung with instant homesickness. “Ma?”

  “Josie. Sweetheart. Is that you? Hello? Hello?”

  “Yes, Ma. I’m here.” I smiled, my eyes flooding. “I’m here. How are you?”

  “Gosh, darling. I almost didn’t hear this blasted thing bleating at me. I thought it was another weather report. How do you all live with these constant beeps and buzzes going on telling me about everything. I’ve got no interest in whether Wappoo Cut is going to flood its banks in high tide. Wait, I’m so sorry, this is probably costing you a fortune and I’m prattling on. How are you, love?”

  My face hurt from smiling so wide from the joy of hearing her voice. I grabbed a tissue and wiped my eyes and nose. “It’s good to hear your voice, Ma. I’m good. It’s beautiful here. And I’m calling over the internet so it’s free, okay? Don’t worry. Though, there might be a bad signal sometimes because we’re on a yacht.”

  “You hate boats!”

  “I do. But this one … well, it’s as big as a house. Let me tell you about Dauphine, the little girl I look after.” I picked at the cuticles on my toes as I told her all about Dauphine and the water in the Mediterranean, the food and the crew.

  “Sounds like a fun little diversion,” my mother said when I was done, and I smarted a bit at her dismissal. “Have you been working on your resume? I spoke with a lady in my bridge club. And she thinks her husband might know of a position at the Historic Charleston Foundation. I know it’s not an architectural firm. But it’s respectable and it fits well in your resume … unlike this, this, what do you call yourself? An Au Pair? A nanny?”

  “Either.”

  “Yes, well, we’ll pretend you took a long vacation or something, and then after a while maybe no one will notice the gap on your resume.”

  “Ma. I appreciate you trying to help. But I’m concerned enough for the both of us. You trying to get me a job is just stressing me out more. I’ve actually applied for several positions at real architectural firms. And it’s my career, okay?”