Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance

by Natasha Boyd

  He hummed. “Maybe only about things that fascinate me. Technology, innovation. Commercial building development is not one of them.”

  I chuckled, warmth zinging through my veins. “That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “How so?” I felt his gaze on me again, curious.

  “That idea is kind of close to my heart living in Charleston, South Carolina. I struggle against the commercial developers all the time who want to come in to our city and make a quick buck with no regard for the history of what came before. I love that our city has progressed in so many ways. It’s considered a foodie capital now—fantastic restaurants, vibrant with students and a mix of old and new. Of course, there’s still lots of social progress to be made, and in my field it’s a fine balancing act between progress and preserving history and not only preserving the ‘right kind of history.’”

  “Explain.”

  “Well, there are parts of my city that have been underfunded for generations. Forgotten and ignored and systematically repressed. Of course, then crime flourishes. Now people want to come in and ‘clean it up,’ but that means moving people who’ve lived there for decades or longer. What needs to happen is those areas should get funding for parks and restoration and better schools and education, not moving people away, just so some developer can get rich.” I finished in a huff, not realizing how my blood pressure had spiked up. “We have a shameful history of owning slaves. But the descendants of those slaves have just as much right for their history to be saved as the white slave owner who built a mansion. Perhaps more so, in my opinion.”

  “You’re passionate about this topic.”

  I blew out a breath. “Yeah, I guess I am. And I’m not saying all development is evil. Capitalism can be good. I just … there needs to be balance.”

  “And were you working toward that in your last job?”

  I frowned. “No. I mean, I was trying. I got to work on some projects hand-in-hand with the various preservation societies. But my last project kind of broke my faith.” I told him about the hotel and the history of the land it was on and how the stupid nepotism and greed of my ex-boss and his nephew had thrown all my hard work and potentially that history out the window. “Not to mention,” I added with a grim edge, “that my boss implied he was only keeping me on because I was easy on the eyes. So what could I do but quit?”

  Xavier hissed. “What is his name?” he growled the question, his body tense.

  I glanced up at his troubled gaze. His eyes glittered darkly. “Are you going to avenge my honor?” I asked, amusement lacing my tone.

  He grunted. “Maybe.”

  I shifted, turning farther into him and walking my fingers across his taut belly. “Why such honor?”

  His muscles tightened under my touch. “My father. I don’t want to be like him. I already feel like him in some moments when I look at you and my body rages to have you. It feels depraved. Like I’m possessed. And I wonder, was that what it was like for my father? Was that how it began? But then I know, it was about power with him. It was about getting away with it. It wasn’t about how mad he was about the girls. Not like the way you drive me so mad with wanting.”

  “How mad?” I asked.

  “Out of my mind,” he admitted. “I was torn between being addicted to seeing you every day, knowing I would not, could not, touch you and sending you away so you didn’t torture me anymore. But then, of course, it would hurt Dauphine.”

  “Yet, you let me resign and walk away.”

  “I’m sorry. You became too much. And after the club,” his finger traced the shell of my ear, “J’ai paniqué.”

  Giddiness fizzed in my belly. “I’m assuming that means you panicked. Why?”

  “My daughter is everything to me.”

  I nodded, understanding. “I know.”

  “And I have not allowed myself to get distracted. Or to be apart from her.”

  “And now?” I asked as I licked my lips. “What changed?”

  “I don’t know.” His gaze caught on my mouth and his finger moved from my ear to my cheek and over my bottom lip. “I’m still trying to figure it out. After you left, I was telling myself it was for the best. But I felt … I felt like I had made a terrible mistake.”

  “I bet Dauphine made you feel bad,” I teased.

  He chuckled. “Everyone did. Even Chef could hardly look at me. And Evan? Mon dieu. He’s lucky we have a long history.”

  I smiled. It was nice to know I had allies beyond Andrea, that people were rooting for us. I wondered what they’d say if they knew he’d already put an expiration date on us of two days.

  “I thought I’d been given a second chance when you returned today, but my own mother was going to keep you away from me,” he said with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “And then I knew my need for you was too strong to resist. I wasn’t sure you would agree after the way I’d behaved. Or if everyone would see through me and know what I wanted and laugh. But I took a chance. And now you are here. I can barely believe it.”

  “Me neither,” I whispered. “I’m glad I’m here. I want to be here,” I affirmed in case there was any doubt. “I’m glad I had an asshole boss back home, or I wouldn’t have been here. I wouldn’t have met you. Or Dauphine.”

  We gazed at each other, understanding the gravity of our admissions. Then his mouth descended and covered mine. His lips were soft and demanding.

  My hand on his belly gripped tight as if I could tangle myself into his skin.

  His tongue dipped into my mouth and I groaned, arching into him. The low banked fire that endlessly burned for him, blazed up.

  “I had dreams of you,” he whispered between kisses. “Like that night you came up here in your miniscule pajamas.” Kiss. “I sat in this chair.” Kiss. “And I fantasized that you came over and took your clothes off and crawled on top of me.” Kiss. “And made me forget the pain in my heart.”

  I shifted toward him, and then slipping my leg over his, I sat up and straddled him. “And in French you told me you wanted to fuck me. But I didn’t understand.” My bare thighs squeezed his waist, and the bed covers slipped down my back. I still wore his linen shirt, and now I unbuttoned the two places holding it together. “But I would have. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you with your daughter in the train station. Every cell of my body wants yours. And I cursed the fact that we were meeting under the circumstances of me working for you.”

  His eyes were heavy-lidded, his mouth slightly parted as his hands joined mine and he spread the material and bared me to his gaze. Beneath me, his hips bucked up and pressed against my naked center, drawing a moan of aching need from my throat. He whispered something in French.

  “Why do you switch to French when I can’t understand?”

  He gazed up at me, his voice thickening. “I said, you are an angel under the moonlight.”

  My shaking hands made quick work of his shorts, flicking open the button and zipper and drawing him out, hot, hard, and heavy in my hand. “I need you.” I gasped, lifting up enough to slick him through my wetness once, twice, and then sinking down slowly, taking him into my body.

  His fingers dug into my hips, pulling me down and driving himself up until I was full to the hilt and utterly breathless.

  His gaze pinned me, the look feral, hungry, haunted and pleading. Pleading for something he said he didn’t want me to offer. My heart.

  Two days was just not fucking enough with this man. It was going to kill me when it was over. I squeezed my eyes closed. It was killing me now, my heart willingly running to its own doom in my chest.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I awoke to the sound of seagulls screeching and cartwheeling overhead. I realized I was alone, wrapped up on the chaises where we’d fallen asleep in the wee hours.

  The sky glowed blue with low morning sun even though the bay was shadowed by the massive peninsula. My body was hot and clammy, sticky under the duvet. My face felt damp and cool in the morning a
ir.

  “Ah, you’re awake.” Xavier’s voice had me turning to see him stepping up the last step onto the deck, two cups on saucers in his hands.

  “I really hope that’s coffee.” I blinked groggily. “That was too much wine and not enough sleep.” And maybe too much sex? Was there such a thing? I ached. But in a good, delicious, satisfied way. “Oh my goodness, did you shower already?”

  Xavier was wearing navy shorts and a fresh light pink linen shirt that made his skin glow. He looked utterly masculine and delicious against its soft hue. His hair was wet and shiny in the daylight, and he smelled of cool verdant forests as he leaned toward me delivering a kiss to my forehead and a cup and saucer to my hand.

  “Oui,” he answered and perched next to me. “I had an early call with Tokyo, and then I had to do some exercise before I gave into the urge to come up here and drag you to my bed again.”

  I smoothed my hair with my free hand, realizing it must look absolutely wild from our outdoor sleeping arrangements.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Shush, you charmer.” I grinned and took a sip of coffee, creamy, bitter, and smooth all at once. I raised an eyebrow. “How did you know how I take my coffee?”

  “I called Dauphine.”

  “You’re joking?”

  He grinned into his coffee, looking slightly embarrassed. “Non.” He chuckled.

  “Hmm. How is she?”

  “Wonderful. This afternoon they are going to visit the newly discovered Roman ship. It’s not open to the public yet, but my mother has her ways.”

  “And Dauphine loves the idea of shipwrecks and treasure.”

  “She does.”

  We shared a smile over his daughter.

  “She’s wonderful,” I told him since I’d never outright said it. “And it’s a testament to you. You should be very proud. I was scared about taking this position. I’ve never thought I’d be good with children. But she makes it easy.”

  “You’re natural.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “I just hope my own children are as charming one day. Maybe I’m only good with her.” I laughed, but it slipped a little as I realized Xavier had glanced away uncomfortably.

  “Why architecture? After everything you told me last night?”

  I frowned, slightly taken aback. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you are passionate about history. It’s obvious you like keeping old things, not building new things.”

  “Well, I—” I let out a surprised huff of air. “You’re right, I suppose. I never looked at it quite so black and white. Maybe …” I knew what he was saying was right, but I’d been working toward being a successful partner at an architectural firm since I’d started college. My father had always known I’d be good at it, ever since I’d known what I wanted to be. He’d encouraged me. He’d fostered my love for the details no one else saw. He’d—

  “What?”

  Huh. “Um. I think I’m having an existential crisis.” Should I even be an architect?

  Xavier’s concerned face grew more serious. “I’m sorry. I only meant—”

  “No. It’s fine.” I cleared my throat. Of course I should be an architect. My degree was the only one I’d have ever wanted, but … “Maybe I’ve been focusing on working at the wrong places. Looking at it wrong. God, to think, I even applied for a job at a firm that builds office parks.” I shuddered. “How did you get so smart?”

  He chuckled and kissed my hair. “Well, I must do a few more things before my meeting.” He stood.

  I cleared my throat. “Okay. Thank you for the coffee.” I glanced down at my attire of his lone wrinkled shirt. “Is it safe to go downstairs dressed like this?”

  “Of course. I was thinking perhaps you would like to stay in my cabin tonight. If you need your own space I understand. But perhaps you would sleep better?”

  “It’s not that I need my own space, but …” How did I tell him his dead wife was everywhere in that room? And knowing now what he’d shared with me about her, it felt even more heartrending. As if by keeping all her things for two years untouched that he wasn’t ready to give her memory up. Maybe he wasn’t. And where did that leave me? I already knew I was temporary for him, but I didn’t need the reminder while we made love. Not to mention that was a sure-fire way to say bye-bye to my big O. And I was quite attached to the ones he coaxed out of my body.

  I took a breath. “It feels as if your room is yours and Arriette’s room. I don’t want to interfere with your memory of her. And it’s all right,” I rushed on. “I’m okay. Not, like, jealous, or anything.” I grimaced. Jealous? Of a dead woman? Fuuuucck. I needed more sleep, clearly. “Sorry, that was not what I meant.” I flailed. “I actually don’t know what I’m trying to say. I’m trying to be sensitive to your feelings, and mine, and her memory, and I’m not doing a very good job. I’m sorry.”

  “Tu as fini?” He sat back down, eyebrow raised.

  Was I finished? I nodded and studied his face for a clue into how much I’d just offended or upset him.

  He looked thoughtful. “I have made a mistake in not taking Arriette’s things from the boat. Last summer, it was … it was the first time Dauphine and I had come to the boat without her maman. We did not stay too long. It was difficult. I should have done it before now. But I got busy. And then I worried perhaps I should wait until Dauphine wants to look and see what she wants to keep. But she seems so young for such a difficult task. And so, I waited. Or perhaps I avoided it. I did not expect to have someone … to bring … a lover here.” He swallowed heavily, his tone had grown thick.

  “Then you should wait.”

  “I’ve waited long enough. I spoke to Dauphine last week about it. I’ll be moving Arriette’s things—”

  “I’m sorry.” I laid a hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. “You don’t need to share this. Or explain anything. You don’t owe me that.”

  He took a long breath. “Perhaps we can talk about it later?”

  “If you want.”

  “Thank you.” He gazed at me then leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine in a brief, soft kiss. “Perhaps you should come with me today.”

  I bit my lip. “To your meeting?”

  “Why not?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “Come. You will like where I’m going. It was rebuilt in the eighteen hundreds on a fifteenth century foundation. And it’s not open to the general public.”

  “Mmmm,” I moaned in pleasure. “You really know a lot about seduction, don’t you?”

  He burst into a warm laugh. “Is that why I finally have you? Because I promised you history and architecture?” he teased. “I should have figured that out sooner. Come. Let’s get you downstairs so you can get ready.”

  “A church?” I exclaimed. “You never did tell me exactly what it is you do. Who are you meeting with? Do you have business with God himself?” We’d wound up the mountain in a taxi, past the ancient citadel walls we saw from the boat, and through some rocky scrubland until we came to a chapel perched on a hill. A small sign told me it was called Notre Dame de la Serra. It was cream stucco and framed on a rocky hilltop with more stunning mountains around it.

  He smiled, amused.

  We climbed out of the taxi and walked through a small gate in a stone wall.

  “Here she is now,” he said, looking past me across the small limestone cloistered courtyard. “Soeur Maria,” he greeted a tiny nun hurrying toward us.

  Her lined face lit up with an excited smile. She was adorable.

  “She doesn’t speak English, I apologize,” he said quietly to me.

  “Oh. That’s okay. You’re meeting with a nun?”

  “She worked at the boarding school I went to as a young boy.”

  “And you’re still in touch? And you have a business meeting with her?”

  “Another long story,” he said just as the small woman reached us, and tucking a folder under her arm, grabbed Xavier’s hands in hers. They spo
ke softly and affectionately, and I figured he’d introduced me when I heard my name and received her attention.

  Her cool and papery hands took mine, and her rheumy blue eyes roamed me from top to bottom. I smiled a greeting, unsure what to say since she wouldn’t understand anyway.

  Seemingly satisfied, she turned back to Xavier and motioned to a pathway that led through an opening in the cloister wall.

  “She suggests we walk to take in the view,” he told me.

  “You both go ahead,” I told him. “I’ll follow.”

  He acquiesced with a grateful smile and offered Sister Maria his arm, and they began a slow stroll.

  As soon as they turned away, I took a moment to gather myself. His meeting was with a nun? Honestly, I did not understand this man. But everyone we’d interacted with, apart from that creepy Morosto character and his father, seemed to put Xavier on a pedestal. If I wasn’t half gone over this man, discovering he was secretly funding some foundling orphanage run by nuns would seriously put me over the edge. Who was I kidding? I was already hanging over the damn edge. I was in so much trouble. My chest swelled watching his tall muscular frame, and let’s not lie, incredible rear-view, as he leaned down and attended to a tiny old woman. Who was this guy?

  I followed them around the more recently built, cream stuccoed side of the chapel and up a set of rocky stairs toward a statue of the Madonna that rose high and white against a blue sky. They didn’t seem in a hurry. They chatted and laughed. I occasionally got the feeling I was mentioned. Especially when Sister Maria asked him something, and he grew very quiet and pensive.

  Then suddenly, I wasn’t thinking of them.

  I gasped.

  We’d reached the top of a stone path and Notre Dame de La Serra revealed its biggest secret. It had been built overlooking the entire citadel and miles-long bay of Calvi. My breath caught as I took in the overwhelming view that ranged from the rocky outcrops plunging into the bright blue ocean, over the incredible ancient citadel walls of the city, and over a rolling valley. A turn to my left showed one could also see the towering boulder-strewn mountains behind us. It was spectacular.