by Natasha Boyd
“Attention, Dauphine!” Monsieur Pascale cautioned after her.
She leaped onto the boat and disappeared inside two dark gray glass doors.
I followed her route, my eyes glued to my running shoes, making sure I didn’t misstep and holding the warm metal railing. It swayed, and I almost lost my digested baguette. I wasn’t able to cross any expanse of water without holding on for dear life. God, why had I agreed to this again? What if I got seasick and vomited for six straight weeks? I didn’t think I got seasick, but I hadn’t had much experience to find out. This nausea, at least, was probably just nerves.
An attractive woman, also dressed in a white uniform, perhaps a bit older than me, with an athletic physique and blonde hair slicked back into a tight bun, had emerged from inside and now reached for my hand to help me.
Grabbing on to her gratefully, I stepped off the gangplank on to the spacious boat deck.
“I’m Andrea, the chief steward. You’re the new au pair, right?” Were all his employees British?
“I am.” I held out my hand. “Josephine Marin.”
“Miss Marin, lovely to meet you.”
“Actually, call me Josie, please. Long journey, my mouth isn’t connected to my brain right now. ”
“I’m sure.” Andrea looked past me with a smile. “Monsieur Pascale. Bienvenue. Welcome. Any problems?” Her eyes scanned out to the port where Paco and Evan took luggage out of the Mercedes.
I turned.
Xavier Pascale nodded to Andrea and to me. “No. It seems we avoided them,” he said in perfect accented English. “Please show Miss Marin to one of the staterooms on deck two.”
“Avoided who?” I began, but Andrea was responding to her boss.
“No problem, sir,” she said. “We have taken the liberty of moving you to the master stateroom now that the nanny is here.”
“No,” he said quickly. “I’ll stay on deck two as well. For now.” Wait, all three of us would be next door to each other? How many rooms were there? I hoped to goodness I had a window or I would have a massive panic attack.
Andrea bobbed her head. “As you wish. Apologies. I should have checked first.”
Monsieur Pascale immediately took a set of stairs up to another deck and disappeared.
“Come along,” Andrea said after she introduced me to Paco, the captain. “I’ll get you settled and then get you up to date on the care and feeding of Dauphine Pascale and what’s required of you.”
Chapter Eight
As we walked through the interior of the boat, my gaze bounced all around. The huge windows on both sides offset the darker nature of the mahogany and modern brass fittings and fixtures. The built-in sofas were cozy, luxurious, off-white, with a scattering of throw pillows that seemed to pull color from the art. There was a huge twelve-seater dining table.
“The paintings …” I stammered. “I mean, are they real? Surely not at sea?” I couldn’t help but blurt as I followed Andrea. The carpet looked lush and soft despite being a tightly knitted weave. It was probably some sort of marine-grade fiber meant to withstand the realities of life at sea while looking like it could protect the precious toes of the one percent.
Andrea slowed. “Most of them are high end reproductions of the art the Pascales have at their estate in Valbonne. And they’re protected. It’s a fine film covering them that allows for the natural colors to show through but protects the canvas from mildew and the paint from ultraviolet rays. Everything is protected. The fabrics are stain proof. Of course, with a child on board and the odd inebriated guest, one has to take precautions.” She turned to me fully while stepping backward. “You drink?”
“Uh, I won’t be an inebriated guest if that’s what you mean?”
She grinned. “Nah. Didn’t mean anything by it. We keep the drinking for terra firma and keep it extremely low key.” She turned back around and began down a set of stairs, dipping her head to the side even though she’d have easily cleared the space. “But when you have a night off, you should come out with us. The crew, I mean. Most nights you’ll probably eat with Dauphine and Mr. Pascale.”
I climbed down after her. My chest immediately tightened in the smaller, darker space. I forced myself to breathe slowly. I could do this. I had to do this.
“It depends on Mr. P’s schedule.” She opened the latch on a lacquered wooden door to her right. “This is you. Dauphine is to your left. And temporarily Mr. P. is …” She nodded ahead toward the cabin opposite mine and her voice lowered. “He’ll be in there. Since Mrs. Pascale passed away, Dauphine has sometimes had trouble sleeping. Nightmares. Mr. P likes to be close to his daughter. I guess until you settle in, he’ll want to stay close by.”
Poor little girl. “Understandable. So, is it okay to ask? What happened to Mrs. Pascale? And why the security concern when we got to the port?” I stepped in through the wooden door to what was to be my cabin. There was a small—oh my God, tiny—window. But the room was more spacious than I’d imagined. The bed was queen-sized and covered in luxurious white bedding and pale pink and gray throw cushions. I drew a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” Andrea asked as she noticed my breathing.
“Never done well in confined spaces,” I admitted and tried to force a grin. “Nor on boats. But I’m guessing exposure therapy is my only choice right now.”
She widened her eyes. “Just be glad you aren’t in crew quarters stacked like a sardine on a bunk in which you can’t sit fully upright. And you have your own head.”
“Head?”
“Bathroom.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”
She rested a hand on my arm. “You didn’t. Relax. And I’ll have to tell you the story of Mrs. P when we get our night off if it coincides. But my hope is Mr. P will tell you himself when he goes over what’s expected of you.”
I nodded. “Can I ask though, how long has it been since she died?”
Andrea glanced over her shoulder toward the door and back to me. “Just shy of two years. That’s really all I can say. But the family—what’s left of it—they need healing. And this attempt to get back out to sea and spend some time together is part of it. I’m sure you know how the press treats Mr. P, like some sort of tragic prince. That makes Dauphine the poor little lonely heiress. It also makes her a target for unscrupulous types. You’ll be her nanny, but also you’ll never let her out of your sight.”
A chill skidded over my arms. “You mean she’s a target for, like, kidnapping?”
Andrea nodded.
“Yikes. That’s a little above my pay grade, don’t you think?”
“You just have to be another set of eyes and another hand to hold when you all are out and about. Evan was in the Royal Marines and has undertaken bodyguard training.” Her eyes flashed as she said it, and it occurred to me Andrea might have a crush on the affable driver who was clearly a lot more than he looked.
“So he has lots of different roles here,” I said, impressed.
“He’s paid well for it, trust me. And we all go above and beyond and do whatever it takes to keep things running smoothly. We really respect Monsieur Pascale.” I didn’t mistake the advice for me in her simple statement. But I’d never been one to do the bare minimum or shirk responsibility. It was probably why I’d gotten so far ahead at work before I’d crashed into my glass ceiling.
“And I guess we’re all hoping that with you here, Dauphine may be a little less lonely, and maybe Mr. P will start to relax a little bit. It’s been bleak, I’ll tell you. It’ll be a bit different from your last gig, I’m sure.”
I bit my lip. “This is my first one actually. I mean, like this,” I hurried on at her surprised look, not wanting to paint myself as completely clueless on my first day. “I’m not super experienced.” I swallowed.
“Ahh. Well. And on a boat no less.”
“Yeah.”
She smiled and I relaxed. “Well, the crew’s a good bunch. Just a skeleton crew for a boat thi
s size though since it’s only you three. But give a shout if you need help. It’ll be me, Evan, who’s first mate but also triples as security and deck hand, Rod who you’ll meet is an extra deck hand and fills in as steward when we’re thin, Paco the captain, and Andre the chef. On other boats I’m normally one of three or four women. At least I get my bunk room to myself since I worked here. If you need anything, from a soft drink to sunscreen while you’re finding your way, I’m your gal. If you need a tender ride to shore, Evan’s your guy. Anything I should tell chef to avoid for you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I eat almost everything. Where’s Dauphine?” I asked, remembering the reason I was on this boat.
“Probably up on the bridge with Paco. She loves to go see him first thing.”
“The bridge?”
“Boat term. It’s where the captain drives the vessel—wheel, radar, sonar, satellite. All the gadgets that keep this beauty running. Paco has a cabin on the bridge level too.”
I rubbed my palms on my shorts and looked around. “Do I have time to unpack?”
Andrea walked toward the head of the bed where a built-in wooden shelf ran the width of the room and held two bolted down bedside lamps. “There’s an intercom here,” she said, pointing out a brass inlay with a button and slats like on a speaker. “Kind of old school, and we try not to use it unless there’s an emergency. But we’ll get you equipped with your own cell phone. How about you unpack, relax, shower, and I’ll buzz you when Mister P is ready to meet with you to go over Dauphine’s care. I’ll keep her with me for the meantime, and she can help the chef prep for dinner.”
I smiled with gratitude. “That’d be great. Thank you.”
“Don’t nap if you can help it. Jet lag will kill you if you do. Oh, and the Wi-Fi code is in the drawer,” she said. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll buzz you when Mr. P is ready for you.”
With a smile, she headed out, and as soon as she clicked the door closed, I went to the window and figured out how to slip it open. Inhaling the briny and oily air of the port, I sucked it in deeply through the four-inch gap. I’d never had textbook claustrophobia, and I was sure it wouldn’t be crippling, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t going to need to have a window or door cracked with the promise of fresh air. I’d have to ask what the rules were about keeping the windows open. Last thing I needed was for sea water to lap in with a big wave. I bent my neck to glance down and saw my cabin window was pretty close to the greenish and oil-swirled surface of the water. That wasn’t creepy.
My phone buzzed from somewhere, and I dug around in my purse.
Meredith.
Instead of texting, I opened my settings and found the Wi-Fi, and then dialed her number through a Wi-Fi calling app.
She answered on the third ring.
“Jos, you made it?”
“I did. I’m on the boat. I say boat, but a better descriptor would be cruise ship.”
“Oh my God. Is it lush? I bet it’s amazing. Do they have a crew? Of course they do.”
I smiled. “They do.”
“I’m imagining you on the cast of Below Deck. Is there a mad genius chef?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“And are the deck hands cute?”
I thought of Evan. “Yes, the one I’ve met is. His name is Evan and no, before you ask, he’s not my type.” I’d felt nothing in the way of attraction to Evan. Certainly not in the wake of the gut punch attraction I’d felt to the one person I shouldn’t even look at like that—my new boss. “God.” I flopped back on the bed. “So much has happened in two days. I can’t believe I’m on the other side of the Atlantic. How’s my mom? Did you call her?” I’d asked Meredith and Tabs to check in with her periodically. I hated that I’d had to leave in such a hurry. She’d been shocked when I told her I quit. Even after I explained why, she didn’t seem to understand the choice I’d made. I assured her my trip was just temporary—a paid gig while I found another job and got my career back on track, but all I could see on her face was shock and disappointment. I hadn’t even had the heart to tell her how Tate had mentioned my stepfather, Nicolas.
“Your mom is fine. I called her last night, and I explained everything in more detail. Told her you were helping Tabitha out.”
“She comes from a different generation. Women didn’t quit over handsy bosses or lack of career growth in her day. She thinks I’m a snowflake.”
“No, she doesn’t. She’s just a mom worried about her daughter being on the other side of the world.”
I cringed. “Was this a good idea?”
“Stop it, Josie. Yes. It was a good idea. The fricking best idea any of us have had, period. You’re a lucky bitch, you know that?”
“You’re right. If I’m a snowflake about anything, it’s that I’m currently sitting on a yacht in the south of France with a hot, widowed billionaire and complaining about it.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.”
“On that note, you realize he’s a complete paparazzi magnet? What if someone is curious enough about the new nanny to dig up my family history? That would kill my mom, if things came to light again.”
“You’re out of context,” she soothed. “In another country. And it happened so long ago. There’s no way anyone will recognize you. Also, you’re essentially the help. No one pays the help any attention. You’re practically invisible.”
I thought of Monsieur Pascale’s intense scrutiny when he met me and didn’t feel like I was invisible to him at all. More like someone he disapproved of. And he didn’t even know me.
“And even if they did,” Meredith went on, “would any French people care about an obscure financial crime in Charleston? No offense.”
I didn’t have the energy to correct her that my stepfather’s clients weren’t limited to America. “I don’t think my new boss likes me,” I said, trying to change the subject. “I felt like a microbe under a microscope. Do I not look like a normal nanny?” I sat up.
Meredith laughed. “He probably just thinks you’re hot.”
“Shut it, Mer!” I squeaked and heard Tabs say something in the background.
“What did Tabs say?”
“She told me to shut it too. Dang, I was just joking. Maybe he was having a bad day. Hey,” she directed at something Tabitha said again.
“Maybe he was,” I said, thinking even Evan had said he was normally friendlier.
“Tabs wants a turn,” Meredith said. “I love you and miss you, bitch face. Here she is.”
“Love you too, bye.”
“Hey, Josie,” Tabs greeted me. “You get there safely?”
“Yep. All tucked into my watery coffin,” I half joked. “Hey, do you know anything about what happened to his wife?”
“Actually, I don’t. And I haven’t done too much looking into it. There’s not much online. What were you told?”
“Nothing yet. But I’m supposed to meet with him in a bit, maybe he’ll at least give me the lay of the land. At least as far as what his daughter has been told. On that note. I better get myself together. I just hope I can make you proud.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course you will. And I know you’ll have a good time.”
“So good to talk to you both. Have fun at your sister’s wedding, Tabs. Hug Mer for me. And tell her please don’t forget about me stranded out here.”
“Ha. Stranded?” Meredith had clearly wrestled the mouthpiece closer to her. “Hardly. I’m here for you any time.”
“Love you, Mer. Love you, Tabs.”
“We love you more.”
We all hung up and I lay back on the soft bed with a grin, then I rolled off the bed and began unpacking into the dresser. The drawers had a twisty latch thing so they locked when closed. I imagined it was in case of turbulent waters. I shuddered at the thought of being trapped in this room during rough weather. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to stay on task.
As I entered the bathroom and caught site of the mirror, I practically
jumped out of my own skin.
Shit. Jet lag and a fluorescent white office tan were a rough combo. I was pale with tiredness, my under eyes looking bruised, and my light freckles more pronounced. It felt like a stranger staring back at me. Figuring out the shower took a moment, but it was blissful to step under the hot spray and quickly wash my hair and shave my legs. I imagined the boat had to store fresh water on board so I didn’t dally too long.
I jumped as I heard a beep and a static crackle. Andrea’s voice came through the intercom. I’d left the bathroom door open so I didn’t miss it. “Hey, Josie.”
I scampered out the shower, grabbing a large white fluffy towel on the way. I pressed the button. “Yes, I’m here.”
“Monsieur Pascale will see you up on the top deck in about ten minutes.”
“Ok. Thank you. I’ll be there. Over.” I released the button and cringed.
Andrea’s disembodied chuckle came through. “This isn’t girl scout camp on walkie talkies, ten four.”
“Sorry.” I laughed as I sent the message back.
Then I quickly towel-dried and wrapped my hair up. “Damn it,” I muttered. What did I wear to impress professionally but not look like I’m trying too hard? I settled on a pair of white shorts, unfortunately a tad shorter than I’d like, but not indecent, and a navy and white striped three-quarter sleeve shirt. Totally nautical. I looked the part. And frankly, I’d had to work with what I had when packing.
I dragged a comb through my dark hair that was even darker when wet and slicked it back to a low bun. The dark hair and pale skin made my gray-green eyes stand out more. Grabbing my make-up bag, I put on moisturizer, under eye concealer so I didn’t look ghoulish, and lip balm, then stared at myself in the mirror. “You can do this,” I whispered to myself. “You are capable of anything.”
I took a deep breath and headed out of my room to find my way upstairs.
Chapter Nine
I followed the reverse route of the one I’d come down with Andrea.