Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance

by Natasha Boyd

  “Yes! The Verdon Gorge. Is it far?” I leaned against the stair railing behind me.

  He pursed his lips. “If we drove when we were back in Nice, perhaps it would take two and a half hours.”

  “Oh.” My shoulders slumped. “It was just an idea.”

  “It was a good idea. Dauphine has always been interested in going there, actually. Her class went on a school camping trip a while ago, but she couldn’t go. She was afraid she would wake up with a nightmare and be teased by the other girls.”

  My chest constricted. “Poor Dauphine. Wait, do you have to camp there or can you do it in a day?”

  He snorted a laugh at whatever he must have seen on my face. “I see you are not a fan of camping?”

  “Are you?” I defended.

  “Not particularly. But somehow I don’t think I have quite the same reaction to the idea as you do.”

  “And what reaction was that?”

  “Like someone just asked you to try a chocolate-covered locust. Or a mussel.”

  I cracked up. “Yeah. That sounds about right. All power to the campers, it’s just never been my thing.”

  “No boats, no camping,” he mused. “So, is that all you wanted to talk about?”

  I opened my mouth then closed it again.

  His eyes were steady on mine. Intense. It was now or never.

  “It’s just. This … this chatting with you is nice. Then sometimes, you just snap like I’ve done something wrong, and you’re cold again. I mean, I’m not saying I’m the best person in the world, but I think I’m a nice enough person. Dauphine seems to think so. As well as practically every other person I’ve ever met. I have to be honest, I’ve never come across someone who simply tolerates me one minute and seems repelled by me the very next.”

  He stilled, his eyes narrowing. His arms folded across his chest.

  Shit, I’d really just put it out there, hadn’t I? My heart thudded heavily all the way up my throat. “I mean … I, it’s fine if you don’t like me. But,” I swallowed. My mouth had gone dry as paper. Earth, or ocean, swallow me up. Please.

  “You’re nice one minute and snappy the next.”

  He sat forward, legs astride the lounger. “Snappy?” His work was cast aside.

  “Snappy,” I reiterated. “The way you look at me feels like …” I trailed off, then cleared my throat. “Never mind. Anyway, it feels as though you have been avoiding me. Have you?” I asked before my brain caught up with my mouth. Might as well ask him straight out.

  His expression remained unchanged, though there was a long pause before he answered slowly. “Why would I do that?”

  “It seems like you have been.” I lifted a shoulder as if it had been just a casual observation.

  “I think I have too much work going on and too many important things on my mind than worrying about where you are at all times. I … like you just fine. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel otherwise,” he said flatly. “That was not my intention. As long as my daughter is safe, that’s all I should care about.”

  “Of course.” I bit down hard. “Okay. As long as there is not something I can do differently.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” he said cryptically after a long pause. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a few more reports to read.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  My American phone beeped with an incoming text as I pulled on a fresh t-shirt from my laundry pile. After Dauphine and I swam while Xavier was on a conference call, I’d had a quick shower to get the salt off. This morning we’d stopped off at a small bay, and this afternoon we’d be docking back in St. Tropez. I was looking forward to getting off the boat again and having a night off.

  I hurriedly swished some mouthwash to freshen up and wound my wet hair into a top knot, then grabbed my phone. There were two text messages from Meredith.

  Mer: Update! I think I know what he said in French. Lol. Call me later.

  Mer: Oh crap. Tabitha just said she got an email from him and asked if I’d heard from you. Call me!

  My heart thudded, and I frowned and perched on the edge of my bed while I dialed Meredith’s number. It went to voicemail. “Shit,” I murmured and gritted my teeth as I dialed Tabs.

  “Hey, Josie,” she answered on the first ring.

  “Tabs! How are you? Isn’t it the wedding this weekend? You must be so busy.”

  She gave a short laugh. “My sister has the world’s most intense wedding planner. Everything is ready, but I’m so busy because the damn planner and my sister have micro-managed everyone’s time down to the minute. We’re on a packed schedule. I have hair and make up for the rehearsal dinner in, I kid you not, seventeen minutes. Not fifteen. Not twenty. Seventeen.”

  “Yikes. That does sound intense. But you’re having fun though, right?”

  “I am.”

  “And what about the hometown guy you were worried about seeing? He there?”

  “He’s here,” she said. “But I don’t want to talk about him. How’s it going there?”

  “Fine. I mean, I think. Dauphine is amazing. And we’ve totally bonded.”

  “But?”

  “How do you know there’s a but?”

  She let out a short breath. “Listen, you’d tell me the truth if anything had gone on between you and Mr. Pascale, right?”

  My belly flipped over. “Um,” I managed through a throat now filled with rocks. “What do you mean?”

  “Josie, don’t make me say it.”

  “But that’s the thing. I mean, I think you’re asking if anything sexual has happened, to which I can categorically tell you no. No way.”

  She let out an exhale. “Thank God.”

  Her reaction of relief should have made me feel better, but somehow, I felt worse. And what had happened to even have her ask that question. She seemed to be waiting for more from me, so I decided to share my thoughts. “But I think he has a problem with me for some reason. He’s nice and chatty one minute, and then snapping at me the next. Basically, I love Dauphine, but I’m not having the best time with him, if that makes sense. But I mean, he’s not my job. She is.”

  “Right.”

  I licked my lips. “Why did you ask that?”

  “I haven’t checked my email in a few days, and I dunno, maybe I missed it when I did check, but he sent me an email.”

  My forehead creased up, and I tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling brewing inside me. “And,” I pressed when she paused.

  “And he asked me if I could find a replacement for you.”

  My stomach plummeted, and ice swept over my skin. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. Like I said, it was a while ago, and I overlooked it. I just thought I had everything with the business squared away and put an out of office note on my email, and we’ve been nonstop here, and I feel awful that I didn’t see it and respond to it. I should have seen it and called him. But of course, I wanted to check in with you first and hear your side.”

  My heart was drumming in my throat, the sick feeling now spreading through me. “My side? There’s no side. I feel like—”

  I felt betrayed by him, is what I felt. “How long ago was the email?” I asked instead and waited as she looked it up.

  She named a date. Almost two weeks ago. I guessed that should make me feel a little better.

  “And he hasn’t sent you another one, calling off that request?” I clarified. “Even though you didn’t respond?”

  “Maybe he thought I was still working on it. What happened two weeks ago?”

  “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I mean, the night I arrived he was so rude to me that I kind of quit. It was clear he wanted me to stay. And I didn’t want to let you down. So I stayed. And since then …” Since then he’d been hot and cold. Kind, then mean. Friendly, then icy.

  “Since then, what?”

  “Nothing. Honestly. I’ve been busy with Dauphine. She’s happy. I just … I don’t know, Tabs.” I picked at a tiny piece of peel
ing skin leftover from a sunburn on my knee. “Can—can I ask? What did his email say exactly?”

  “Josie, I know we’re friends, but I can’t divulge that.” Her voice sounded pained.

  “Shoot. I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe one day when you’re home. I—I guess I’d better give him a call.”

  “Okay,” I said, deflated. Almost two weeks ago was the incident on the top deck in the middle of the night. But I had no idea if that was the inciting incident for him emailing Tabitha. But maybe it was. Nausea rolled through me. What exactly had I done that was so bad? And what exactly had he said to me that night?

  We said our goodbyes, and I mashed the end button. Inexplicably, tears burned at the back of my eyes. I knew I’d done nothing wrong, but the sense of betrayal and rejection was so strong, I felt helpless. And he was a goddamn successful billionaire for God’s sake. If he had a problem with me why couldn’t he just damn well tell me to my face?

  Around the table with the crew in the galley a few hours later, I tried to follow the animated banter, but my stomach had been churning for hours. My bludgeoned pride was allowing all manner of thoughts to join the pity party parade. Now I began wondering if Dauphine had been sweet to my face and then complained bitterly about me to her father at all the meals they’d shared without me. Because how else could I explain him taking the drastic step of asking for a replacement?

  I’d found Andrea right before dinner and told her what had happened. She’d been as surprised as me, and completely clueless. “I’ll try and ask Evan later,” she said before giving me a hug. “He may know.”

  I thought I’d been doing an all right job. It wasn’t exactly hard. And I thought, despite the concern I’d voiced to him earlier, he at least liked me. But who had I been kidding? From the moment I’d arrived, Xavier Pascale and I had been at odds. The friendly boss-employee relationship I’d caught glimpses of were clearly an illusion. I thought of the hard look he’d given me after I fell against him when the boat slowed so abruptly. I’d never known it was possible to repulse someone you had a crush on so utterly.

  “What do you think, Josie?” Rod asked me.

  I blinked, a forkful of forgotten ravioli halfway to my mouth, and realized everyone was staring at me. Everyone but Captain Paco. He was having dinner with Monsieur Pascale and Dauphine this evening on the upper deck.

  “Um, I’m sorry, what do I think about what?” I managed, my voice dredged from somewhere far away.

  Rod smirked. “About whether Chef should wax his back?”

  My eyebrows shot up.

  “Fuck off,” growled Chef, and there was a screech as he pushed his chair back and leaned over the table, grabbing Rod by the collar and knuckling his head. “That’s not what I said and I don’t have a hairy back.”

  “Oi, get off,” yelped Rod. “Joking, mate. Joking.”

  “Say sorry, you—”

  “Children, children,” said Evan calmly as he deftly moved his glass of water from under Chef’s elbow where it was in danger of being batted off the table.

  I held my breath as Rod tried to jerk himself free from the merciless ribbing. And I cringed as I waited for something to actually be knocked over.

  Finally, Chef let go, straightened his shirt and sat. “Hmmph,” he sounded grouchily.

  “Bloody hell.” Rod rubbed his head. “Sore spot was it?” he baited.

  Chef feinted another move, chuckling as Rod jerked back on instinct.

  “The ravioli is delicious,” I told Chef, even though until now I’d barely tasted a thing. But I was eager to help move the group along. I focused on my plate and took another bite. It was homemade as always, filled to bursting with a soft buttery cheese, herbs, and a hint of truffle. God, I’d miss his cooking.

  Chef shrugged. “Simple food. I don’t get inspired cooking for this lot.” Even though this ravioli was far from simple to my palate, and he was clearly being humble and also throwing in a dig at Rod.

  “No complaints on preferring simplicity here,” said Rod, deliberately pushing the scrumptious and far from simple pasta around his plate, his tone sarcastic. “I’d rather eat baked beans on toast than this swill, anyway.”

  Chef growled.

  Everyone else laughed.

  Clearly this was a long running play-feud because no one seemed to take it seriously. And being here with them every day had slowly started feeling like a family. I blinked as tears threatened again. It reminded me of when my dad was alive and both my mother’s and aunt’s families and extended families would have Sunday lunch every week that lasted past dinner time. All that had changed when Mom married Nicolas, of course.

  I’d miss these new friends. So, so, much. It was clear, I was going to have to resign. I couldn’t stay in a situation where I wasn’t wanted. I certainly didn’t want to be fired, if that’s what he was getting ready to do. Besides, I needed to be available if any of the firms I’d contacted wanted me to come in and interview. I couldn’t really ask them to wait while I hopped off a boat in the South of France. Jesus, my mom was right. I should have stayed. It was too late for that, but I needed to go home now. Dauphine was going to her grandmother’s anyway. It was perfect timing.

  “All right,” said Andrea with an eye roll. “Enough, Rod. Josie, we were discussing getting off the boat later. What do you think, do you want to join us? We might take a wander along the port and wind up in the town. It’s gorgeous. Maybe you and I can pop into a few boutiques since they stay open so late. We can meet the guys for a coffee later.”

  We’d docked in St. Tropez just before dinner. It should have excited me, as I’d finally have a chance to get off the boat onto solid ground and explore the town I’d heard so much about. But now it was probably the place I’d be leaving from.

  “All right, so no answer from Josie then,” Rod said.

  I took a breath. “God, sorry. I-I think I’ll stay on board. I’m not feeling that great.” I couldn’t face going out with everyone and having to pretend I was happy and not about to leave. Plus, I needed to write a resignation letter, pack, and make arrangements to leave.

  My breath hitched as I fought back an almost hysterical laugh mixed with wanting to wail.

  Andrea reached across the table and squeezed my wrist. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Blood rushed to my cheeks that she’d draw attention to me in front of everyone when I was feeling so raw.

  “What is it?” asked Chef.

  “Yeah, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” Rod said simultaneously.

  Andrea gave me a quick look and then turned to the others. “Does anyone here have a complaint about Josie they’d like to share with the group? All of you have told me to my face you think she’s great. So can someone,” she looked pointedly at Evan, “tell me why Mr. P said he’s looking for another nanny?”

  “What?” Rod exploded. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Ahh, fuck,” growled Evan and stood. He flung his napkin down on his unfinished food, making Chef flinch. “Bloody fool.”

  Evan and Chef then shared a look.

  “What?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

  Chef chuckled and shook his head.

  “For the love of God,” Andrea complained. “Evan?”

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “Relax, Josie. I’ll get it sorted out.”

  “There’s nothing to sort out,” I said. “I’m definitely not staying where I’m not wanted or needed. This is probably my last night.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Evan didn’t return before dinner was cleared. Back in my cabin, it took less than twenty-five minutes to pack my belongings. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was almost Dauphine’s bedtime. I nibbled the corner of my thumbnail as I debated what to do. Should I go and find her? It was my night off, but if I left tomorrow, I wouldn’t see her. I checked my emails on my phone for something new from Tabitha. Or a response to any of my job applications. There was nothing. I opened the text from Meredith that I hadn�
��t had a chance to look at yet.

  Mer: I found out what coo means. I think he said “cul.” It’s pronounced a similar way, and I bumped into that French lady at Armand’s so I asked her too.

  And? What does it mean?

  Mer: it means ‘ass.’

  Ass? As in butt?

  Mer: Yep. He was talking about your ass. I’m sure of it.

  About getting rid of it? Like fire her ass.

  Mer: Maybe. *Cringe emoji* Sorry. Did he do it? Did he ask you to leave? Tabs said he might but not why.

  Andrea appeared at my open door. She’d put on some make up and wore a soft blue sundress and sparkly flip-flops. Out of her starched, white yacht uniform, she looked so much prettier. Beautiful, even.

  “Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”

  “Not really. But there’s not much I can do about it. Not sure what Evan was on about, but trust me—I don’t want to hang around to be fired. I’ll draft my resignation letter in the morning. You look stunning, by the way.”

  “Thank you.” She looked around. “You packed.”

  “I’m leaving first thing tomorrow,” I answered by way of explanation. “This is where I came on the boat, this can be where I leave it.”

  “I can’t believe he didn’t discuss it with me. Or Evan. Though he may have sent an email, but I didn’t get it. The Wi-Fi has been on the fritz. We haven’t been able to send or receive email for the last several hours.”

  I breathed out a sigh. “Oh. I was waiting to hear from Tabitha—she owns the agency. She was going to call him.”

  “Why don’t you come out with us? There’s no point staying on board.”

  “I’m not really in the best mental place.”

  “Come on. Your mental state the best reason to come out. You haven’t even had a night out since you started. You must be stir crazy.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “You need one. Besides, it could be your last night.”