Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance

by Natasha Boyd

  “I’m not avoiding her. I’ve just been busy.” That was the truth. I adored my mother, and she’d been wonderful since Arriette had passed. But lately, she was nagging me about moving on romantically, and I was tired of her little comments and constant plans to set me up. So yes, I’d been avoiding her.

  “The second part I can attest to. But listen, X. Let her help. She’s got no one to fuss over, let her do what mother’s do best. Let her fuss over you as well as Dauphine.”

  I felt like he was going to say more. “What?”

  “Just …” He shrugged. “You could use a vacation.”

  My hand swept around. “My life is a vacation. Didn’t you hear? Ritzy mansions, mega yachts, fast cars, and faster women. It’s been in all the papers,” I added, a bitter tone entering my voice. The paparazzi had been relentless since Arriette died, trying to misconstrue everything I did. “Apparently I’m still a tragic prince in mourning. And ready to crash and burn.”

  “X—”

  “They’re not wrong. Look around. This is my mansion. Have you looked in the garage lately? And wait, aren’t we about to leave on my yacht?”

  “Well, they are wrong about the fast women. Any woman. That’s what I mean about taking a vacation.” He lowered his voice. “I mean take a vacation from being a dad just for a few days. Even a week. And, I don’t know, maybe go on a date?”

  I barked out a laugh. “Jesus. As if it wasn’t bad enough from my mother. And just who the hell would you suppose I’d do that with? Any woman I’ve even had a business meeting with has ended up splashed in the papers. Who would want that? Oh wait, can’t you see I have women waiting in the wings?” I gestured around the large and empty manicured yard. “Far more than I can handle.”

  At that moment, Gérard, my ancient, toothless gardener, who I seemed to have inherited with the property came over the rise. I guess he thought I was waving hello because he raised a hand in greeting.

  Evan pressed his lips closed in what looked like a bid to bite back another laugh. One of pity, probably. “Your mother said she’s tried to introdu—”

  “No.”

  “There are services—”

  “I don’t need a hooker,” I snapped.

  “Not a hooker—”

  “Nor an escort.”

  “My French must really be rusty.” He switched to English. “I meant dating services, asshole. Discreet dating services for high net worth individuals.”

  “Oh. So you’d like me to date someone who is specifically looking for a rich man?”

  Evan let out a pained sigh. “Never mind.”

  “Just drop it, okay?”

  “It’s dropped.”

  “Good.”

  “Great.”

  We sat in silence.

  “Well,” Evan said eventually, “I guess I’ll just go. Boat has to leave the marina promptly at 5 a.m. on Tuesday if we’re going to keep the security protocols in place around your itinerary. You need to be on there by Monday night. Whether or not we have an au pair by then.”

  “Yes, boss,” I said.

  “Cute.”

  I looked at my watch. “I have a call.”

  The chair scraped as he pushed it back and stood. “Great chat.” He headed across the yard to talk to Gérard. I knew he personally spoke to everyone who worked on the estate and made sure they knew to look out for potential trespassers and tele-lenses in trees. He’d also be taking over as my driver, since I was giving most of the rest of the staff time off.

  I poured another glass of sparkling water and took my laptop over to the shaded loggia where we had the outdoor living room. I went through my security protocols to open my laptop and found the email from The Tabitha MacKenzie Agency in Charleston, South Carolina and clicked the meeting link.

  My own image came up on the screen. My dark hair needed a trim. My eyes and the circles under them showed the strain. Not even the exercise and sunshine could erase the fact I’d been working around the clock the last few weeks with my team in Sophia Antipolis to get our latest innovation packaged up for presentation to investors. And several times a week Dauphine still awoke with night terrors. Maybe Evan was right about taking a vacation. Not to go on a date—God knew, my libido had dipped to nothing—but simply to fucking sleep.

  After a few seconds my image shrank to the corner and Tabitha Mackenzie’s friendly face filled the screen.

  “Monsieur Pascale,” she greeted.

  “Xavier, please,” I responded. “How are you?”

  She grimaced. “Doing all right. I’m so sorry about the previous nanny. I’d never have referred you if I’d thought the agency would be unreliable. I got your email request, and I’ve tried …” She looked down and seemed to have misplaced something. “Hold on. I left your file in the other room.”

  She moved away from the screen, leaving the view of an architecturally elegant, but minimally decorated, high-ceilinged living room. There was sound of a heavy door opening and latching closed. And then suddenly a red high-heeled shoe shot past the screen and hit the wall.

  My eyes widened.

  “Mother-fucker,” came a woman’s voice off-screen.

  Another high heel sailed past. “Tabs?” the voice called. “You still home? Goddamn assholes,” the voice raged. There was a rustling and then, “Stupid, irritating, uncomfortable, anti-feminist contraption.” A bit of white lace catapulted into view and then landed on the chair back. “Ah. That’s better.”

  A bra. My mouth dropped open.

  Suddenly a figure followed the voice—curves encased in a tight pencil skirt and lush auburn hair spilling down her back.

  My stomach bottomed out. And she was turning toward the screen as she re-buttoned her blouse.

  Shit.

  She had no idea she had an audience.

  As if woken from a stupor, my hand shot out and slapped my laptop closed.

  A beat of silence passed. Then another.

  Breath burst through my lips in a harsh exhale, and I blinked. Belatedly, I realized my heart was pounding like I’d been reacting to an erotic movie.

  I guess my libido wasn’t dead after all.

  Holy shit.

  I busted out a snort of laughter.

  Who the hell was that? Whoever it was hadn’t realized I’d been witness to the whole thing.

  She’d be mortified if she realized.

  Tabitha Mackenzie would be embarrassed too. It wasn’t exactly the professional and discreet image the agency prided itself on.

  Whoever that woman had been, she oozed unconscious and fiery sex-appeal. I reached for my glass of water. My mouth felt dry all of a sudden.

  I’d give it a few minutes then reconnect and pretend I lost the connection as soon as Ms. Mackenzie left to go get her file.

  Chapter Four

  JOSIE

  Tabitha snapped her laptop shut and whipped her headset off. “Damn. That was brutal. And he hurts to look at.”

  “That hot, huh?”

  “You have no idea. But a grumpy son of a gun.” She eyed me from across the room where I now sat in my comfiest sweatpants, a clay mask on my face, digging into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Triple Caramel Chunk. “So, you want to tell me what the heck you’re doing home?”

  I lifted a shoulder and dug up another spoonful. “I quit.”

  “You told me that already. I guess I’m asking you to elaborate since you came home having a meltdown, and I had to get back on the call.”

  “Yeah, about interrupting your call. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t drop everything to be a shoulder.” She gave an amused grimace. “Thank God his connection went down. He would have gotten an earful and an eyeful.”

  The tips of my ears grew hot. I wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t at least seen or heard something. I’d been having a pretty epic meltdown and basically stripping out of my work clothes before I’d realized Tabs’ computer was open on the table. It was disconnected when I turned around. And he’d call
ed back and hadn’t said a word. I had to just hope and pray that was the truth.

  “So, what did you tell him?” I asked.

  “Don’t change the subject. We can talk about the sad, hot, Frenchie later. First spill.”

  “Sad? Why?”

  She shook her head. “Nope.”

  “Fine.” I planted the spoon into the leftover ice cream and set it on the table—I was starting to feel mildly ill from how much I’d eaten anyway. I brought Tabitha up to speed on the events that had transpired that morning.

  When I was done, she sat with her mouth hanging open. “I knew it,” she burst out. “The old boys club continues alive and well. Obviously you’re going to file a complaint.”

  “To who? Barbara? Mr. Donovan’s assistant? There’s no Human Resources department in a company that small.”

  “The newspaper then.”

  “Tabs, no.”

  “Josie. This is egregious!”

  “I know, okay?” Tears pricked my eyes. “I know it is. It’s disgusting and unjust. But I can’t put my name out there by going to the news. You know I can’t. It would destroy what little amnesia people have developed about my stepfather. It would kill my mother to have all that trotted out again. I have no recourse. None.”

  Tabitha crossed her arms and began pacing the living room. “There has to be something.”

  “Look. Tabs. I’m raw. Just let me process this. Let me break the news to my mom. And then I’ll try and see what comes next for me.” And how the hell I’d pay off my student loans now. I let my head fall back.

  She stopped and came over, plopping on the sofa next to me. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just mad on your behalf.”

  “I know. And I love you for it.”

  “Have you told Meredith yet? Wait. No, don’t. I’ll do it. She needs to get out of work early. We need an emergency girlfriend session. Girls night is starting at,” she glanced at her watch. “How about four o’clock? You better eat something better than ice cream so we can drink. Coz we need to drink to strategize revenge.”

  “Can we table revenge and simply strategize about where I might get another highly respected job doing what I spent eight years training for?” My heart thumped heavily. It felt suddenly as though I was letting my father down. And my mother. And not just myself. Had I done the right thing? I was going to need to apply to a bunch of firms as soon as possible.

  “Fine. We’ll throw some ideas around. But then we are going to come up with a way to castrate those assholes.”

  “A bag of dicks,” said Meredith calmly, her hazel eyes focused on not spilling a drop of her Pear Blossom Martini as she brought it to her mouth.

  I felt my eyebrows rise as I set down my Gin and Elderflower Tonic. “I’m sorry, what? It sounded like you said bag of d—”

  “Dicks. I did. So, there’s this service and you can anonymously go on and type in your nemesis’ name and address. Then a few days later, they get a package in the mail. All mysterious. They open it up and it’s like a literal huge bag of edible dicks. So many dicks, they’ll go on for days. And they’re gummi right, so like do they eat them? But there are so many of them. Do they give them away? Throw them away in shame? And,” she chortled, “if you’re extra salty you can add glitter to the package.”

  Tabitha hissed. “Glitter.”

  “Glitter.” Meredith nodded sagely.

  “Oh em gee,” Tabitha crowed. “That’s genius. Send them to the office, Josie.”

  I thought of sweet and lovely Barbara opening the office mail. “Er, that’d be a no.”

  “No, no, no,” Meredith said. “You always have to send it to their home address. That way they have to open it in front of their family and explain to them what they’ve done to deserve a bag of dicks.” She took another sip of martini as Tabs and I caught each other’s expression in a knowing and horrified expression.

  “Tell me you haven’t sent a bag of dicks and not told us,” I directed at Meredith.

  “To a married man,” Tabitha added.

  Meredith hid her face back in her martini. “I didn’t know he was married, okay? Hence the bag of dicks.”

  “Oh, honey.” I winced. “I’m sorry.”

  “I was so ashamed, you guys. I didn’t want to tell you. I felt like such an idiot. And no one knew we’d hooked up, so I tried to just forget about it.”

  “Who was it?” Tabitha asked. “You haven’t talked about anyone since that lovely guy from Cincinnati who was here—oooooh.” We both grimaced. “Yikes. I’m sorry.”

  “How did you find out? I thought you guys just fizzled because of the distance? And I didn’t realize you’d … you know, done the deed before he left.”

  “I shouldn’t have. Ugh. Warning bells were sounding and I just ignored them. But yeah, I found his social media profile. Not only is he married to the most gorgeous woman, who’s a pediatric surgeon by the way, but they have twin boys who are so freaking cute. Ugh. Why are men such evil creatures?”

  “They aren’t all evil creatures,” I defended, and then thought of my stepfather and what he’d done to my mother and by extension to me. “Not that I have a lot of good male influences to call on … but they have to be out there. Good men. Kind men.”

  “Kind is sooo sexy,” Meredith said wistfully. “Men who are kind, who read, love animals, love kids, and bring their women tea in bed.”

  Tabitha raised her glass. “And always make sure she comes first.”

  I raised my glass to Tabitha, and Meredith joined in. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “I bet the Frenchie is kind,” Tabitha said.

  “The sad, hot, Frenchman?” I clarified.

  “One and the same.”

  “But he’s, like, a squillionaire,” said Meredith. “So that makes me think he might not be so good at the make-sure-she-comes-first thing. My theory is that men who are hot and rich don’t have to try as hard to keep their women happy. They’re entitled and used to getting what they want without working for it. Case in point, Cincinnati Man. Deliciously handsome. Loaded. Gorgeous wife and kids that he doesn’t appreciate. And he’s still out there expecting more. And I can tell you, I definitely did not come first. Or at all for that matter.”

  “Nooo,” Tabitha breathed in shock. “That’s criminal.”

  Meredith slapped the table. “And that’s why I sent him a—”

  “Bag of dicks!” we all screeched in unison as we busted out into hysterics.

  After our laughter had died down and we ordered another round of drinks, I gave a happy sigh. “I really needed this, guys. Thank you.”

  “I needed it too,” said Tabs. “I hate letting clients down. It made the whole day feel shitty. Especially on top of what happened to you. But I’ve honestly reached out to every contact I have, and no one is available at such short notice to go nanny for this family. It would be a plum job for the right person. He offered to triple the normal rate. I’ve even reached out to other agencies I trust, wanting to give them the lead. But there’s no one. And people who haven’t already got summer placements are either looking for short-term weekender gigs to fit around other stuff they have going on or full-on long-term contracts. No one who I can stake the reputation of my agency on is available right now for six to eight weeks.”

  The server dropped off our drinks and a basket of tortilla chips. Clearly, we looked as though we might need to soak up some alcohol.

  “But we live in Charleston,” Meredith said. “It’s a college town. And this is a summer job. Surely there’s someone.”

  “You’d think. But I can’t just pluck a random college student. Even with a background check they might be crazy or try and sleep with the dad. I can’t risk it. He has the most gorgeous little girl too. And they’ve been through a lot. His wife died a couple of years ago, and no way, I can’t risk sending the wrong person.”

  “You could do it,” I suggested.

  Tabs shook her head. “Ha! I wish. My days of nannying are over. And you k
now my sister is getting married next month, I have to go home to Aiken for the whole lead up. I’m taking a much-needed break from my business.”

  Meredith slapped her palm on the table, making us both jump. “Josie could do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Go to France and nanny for the sad, hot, Frenchie.”

  My belly disappeared down to my feet. And then I barked out a laugh. “No way.”

  Tabitha turned her head and stared at me, her brown eyes suddenly glittering with hope and excitement, like I was a fat trout at last light.

  “No. No, no, no. Don’t look at me like that.” I shook my head. “She was joking.”

  “No, I wasn’t,” Meredith chirped.

  “Shh,” I hissed at her. “Are you crazy?”

  Meredith popped a tortilla chip into her mouth. “Nope. I’m a genius.”

  “Tabitha. It’s the drink talking,” I reasoned. “I have student loans. Rent to pay. I need to get my resume vamped up and out to other firms.”

  Tabitha dragged her eyes off me to Meredith. “You are a genius, Mer.”

  “No, she’s not,” I whined. “She’s dumb.”

  “That was low, Marin, but I’ll let it slide.” Meredith popped another chip in her mouth like it was popcorn and she was settled in for the entertainment. “And please, let’s not forget, Josie, that your Pinterest board is covered in Frenchy French things.”

  “That’s only because of my dad’s family heritage.” And mine, obviously. Meredith was right though, I had a whole board dedicated to all things French. Little old medieval towns, cobbled streets, old farmhouses, fancy chateaux, cafes, vignettes of French farm tables piled high with baguettes and fruit with sunshine spilling in from some old thrown back pale blue antique shutters. Okay, so for someone who’d never been, I could qualify as interested in going. But it was a bucket list item. It would happen some day. Not tomorrow for goodness’ sake.

  “Please,” Tabitha pleaded. “Literally no one else is available on such short notice. It will be awesome, I promise.”