Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance

by Natasha Boyd

  “You. Mostly you. Me. Maybe even Xavier. I don’t know.”

  “Well, don’t worry about me. One good thing I’ve accomplished is growing a thicker skin. But you know, darling, Nicolas has taken so much from us already. Don’t let him take this from you too. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be happy. I know you are.”

  “I’m a fucking mess, is what I am.”

  “Josephine!”

  “Sorry, Ma.” I laughed then, feeling as though something inside my chest had broken free. “Thank you.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I tilted my head up to the sun, willing it to fade the mess my face must look like.

  I walked back to work and ducked into the bathroom to wash my face and reapply my makeup with my small emergency kit. The mascara was two years old and caked, but the concealer and lip gloss were adequate. After I saw my girls, I would have to maybe run home for a shower and proper touch up before seeing Xavier.

  At five thirty p.m. I’d never been more ready for girl’s night. I was approaching the King Street Tavern when my phone rang. Donovan & Tate. I frowned. Barbara must need to cancel, and frankly with everything that had happened today, I could totally wait on hearing the latest news on what had happened to the deal on East Bay Street.

  “Hey, Barb,” I answered.

  There was silence. And then, “This is Ravenel Tate. Is this Josie Marin?”

  I swallowed. “It is.”

  “Right. Okay. Well, I’ll get right to it. Uh. I was wondering if I could, um, possibly, uh…”

  My eyes widened, my eyebrows rising, and my steps slowing. “Yes?”

  “Well, uh, the thing is, we, Jason, and of course Donovan, and I, definitely me, well, we were wondering if we could offer you your old job back.”

  I came to a complete stop. “Excuse me?”

  “We wanted to know if you wanted your old, no, I’m sorry, we wanted to know if you would, if we could perhaps offer you a job here again at the position of Senior Associate.”

  Frowning, I turned in a circle, the phone to my ear and my eyes unseeing. I stepped back out of the flow of tourists on King Street and stared blindly into the display of new and estate jewelry in Crogan’s. “And why would you want to do that?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “Oh. Well, uh, there’s a new developer for the East Bay Street Hotel Project. He bought out the old developer. And, uh, we’d obviously like to keep the business. But … he doesn’t like Jason’s design. Wanted something more …” I heard Tate clearing his voice and pictured him sticking a finger into his collar like it was choking him.

  I smirked. “Go on.”

  “He wanted something more historic. Given the history of the land.”

  “I see.”

  “So you’ll do it?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “You can hire someone to consult. You can even use my designs since you took them from me. But if you think I’d work for you again after what you did, you must be out of your mind.” My heart pounded with the boldness and brashness of speaking my mind. My inner feminist cheered, even as my well-behaved, lady-like inner me that took a multitude of micro-aggressions in order not to rock the boat at work, cringed and hushed and clutched her pearls. My cheeks throbbed and my face grew hot.

  “I see. I understand. Could we, ah, perhaps hire you to consult?”

  I barked out a laugh. There was no answering laugh. “Wait. You’re serious?”

  “Very much. We’d pay you hourly the same amount, if you broke it down, that you were earning hourly—”

  “No.”

  “We’ll double it. Just for consulting.”

  “No. And don’t insult me by offering more money. You see, the problem isn’t the job.”

  “Oh? But what about the history?” he asked, his voice getting a bit superior and mocking, clearly unused to dealing with rejection. He was resorting to goading and ridicule.

  I frowned.

  “You have a chance to save it,” he went on as if he was doing me a favor. “To do it your way.”

  Mistake, buddy. I took a deep breath. “The problem, I’m afraid, is you. While you are still in charge of the project, or anywhere near it, I won’t be working on it.” I bit my lip, astounded at myself. I knew I’d always been taught not to burn bridges. At least not in Charleston. But right now, I had no fucks left to give.

  There was silence.

  “If there’s nothing else …” I tested. “Friday evening is calling my name.”

  “Ah, no. No. That’s all right. H-have a good evening.”

  “You too.” I hung up.

  Wow. This day. I shook my head.

  Entering the bar, I saw Barb, Tabs, and Meredith were already there.

  “Boo!” they all chorused upon seeing me.

  I stopped and held my hand to my chest. “What?”

  “Why are you here and not going after your one true love?” Meredith asked, clearly speaking for the group when they all nodded.

  I glared.

  Tabs kicked out a bar stool at the high top for me, and Barb slid a drink in a martini glass over to me. “Gin, right?” she asked. “For the record I agree with Meredith, but you might need some Dutch courage.”

  “Thanks.” I raised the drink as I sat. “Tabs.” I looked her in the eye before turning to Meredith. “Mer.” Then I took a huge sip.

  “So?” Meredith asked. “Don’t keep us waiting.”

  I looked at Tabs. “I’m sorry. I fell in love with my boss, your client. We had a relationship. We didn’t mean for it to happen. If it helps, I resigned before—

  “You resigned?” she screeched. “In the middle of a job, without telling me? What did you do wrong?”

  “Shhh.” Meredith laid a hand on Tabitha’s and looked around.

  “Sorry. But, um, what?” Tabitha asked.

  “Not because I did anything wrong, I promise. After I found out he’d wanted to replace me, things got uncomfortable. I was hurt. I was going to resign, but then I found out he only wanted me gone because he was so attracted to me. He couldn’t handle it, apparently.”

  “God knows why.” Meredith mock grunted, and I narrowed my eyes. “Kidding, just kidding,” she said.

  To my left, Barbara practically melted on the spot, a hand on her chest. “Oh my God, that is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Tabitha seemed to be mulling it over, her mouth practically inverted with the way she was chewing her lip.

  “I promise it wasn’t anything untoward. I did in fact resign before anything could happen. Dauphine didn’t get—” Shit. I’d been about to say Dauphine didn’t get hurt by it. But she’d been freaking kidnapped while her father and I had been hours away having a sexy escape. My stomach flipped over into utter nausea. God. My gaze dropped to my drink.

  “I need the restroom,” Tabitha said, her voice subdued and disappointed. She hopped off the stool.

  “Yikes,” I said. “I feel like shit.” I was going to have to give Tabs way more than the brief outline I’d just given her. And many, many apologies.

  “There’s never an easy path to true love,” Meredith said sagely. “I’ll go check she’s okay.” She slipped off her stool and followed.

  “Is she okay?” Barb asked.

  “It’s—it’s too much to go into right now.” I sighed heavily. So much for a healing girls’ night and getting advice on talking to Xavier. “But, hey, guess who called me on my way in?”

  “Tate?” Barbara guessed.

  “Wait. How did you know?”

  “That’s what I needed to tell you. So, you saw the signs were down? Well, apparently the developer sold his entire position to a new guy. And the new guy hates the plans Jason had approved. And even though they warned him it will slow the project down another twelve months at least, he wants different plans. Doesn’t care he has to hold it longer. Clearly the guy is rich as Croesus. And apparently Donovan showed him your plans. He loves them. He especially loves
the little footnotes you had about why you made certain choices and the history of the land and what not. He wants an archeological dig first, and then wants to build in a display room to outline the history of the land on which the hotel is built.”

  I blinked, moved. And a little astounded that the new developer wanted all the same things I did. “That’s …”

  “I know! Amazing, right?”

  “That explains why Tate was begging to have me back then. I’m probably the only person who’s been championing the historical element. But they have my plans, why don’t they just use them?”

  “Because Mr. Pascale,” she dropped her voice, “that’s the new owner who bought the project, told them if they can’t get the original person who designed those plans back on board then he’s going with a different architectural firm.”

  My drink was suspended two inches off the table where I’d been frozen in mid-flight when she mentioned Mr. Pascale, and now it slipped back to the table with a loud crack.

  The sound jerked me to attention, and liquid sloshed down the sides onto my hand.

  “Oh, dear! Here,” Barb said and pressed her napkin onto the spill. She fussed and mopped and blotted.

  “What did we miss?” Meredith sang as she sat back down. Tabs trailed in behind her.

  My mouth opened then closed.

  “Oh,” Barb said. “I just told Josie she was offered her job back because the new guy—”

  I stood abruptly. “I’m sorry. I, uh, have to go. Thanks, Barb. Sorry I have to run.”

  Meredith tilted her head.

  “Mer, fill Barb in on Xavier Pascale?” I turned to Barb. “Fill Tabs and Mer in on what you just told me?”

  Barb nodded. “Sure. Wait. Xavier … Pascale?”

  “Yeah,” I said. I tipped back my gin drink and almost choked.

  “Go get him!” Meredith clapped.

  Tabs stared at me, a mix of emotions in her eyes. And Barb, piecing everything together, just whispered. “Go get your man.”

  Seconds later, I was running out the door.

  I was already so late.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  I flew through the door of the Planters’ Inn and came to an abrupt stop on the walnut stained wide plank floor. Shit. Had I left the card with his room number at home when I went to shower before work? I opened my purse and half-heartedly checked the inner pockets even while I remembered laying the card down on my bedside table thinking I’d get it when I popped home to refresh my outfit and make up after girl’s night. Should I go home and get it or have a drink in the Peninsula Grill, the hotel restaurant, and call him?

  “May I help you, miss?”

  A uniformed bellhop or footman or whatever they called them here, appeared at my elbow.

  My shoulders sagged. “No. I’m good. Thanks. I forgot my friend’s room number. I was hoping to surprise him.”

  There was a squeal and running feet. “Josie!”

  I turned just in time to catch Dauphine as she launched herself into my arms. “Whoa!” I laughed in surprise as I caught her and gathered her into a tight hug, lifting her off her feet. She clung and tried to wrap herself around me, and I staggered under her weight. “Whoa. Wow. You’re heavy!”

  “Dauphine. Arrête. Descend!”

  She slid down, but her arms didn’t let go. Over her head, Xavier stood in his blue jeans and white button down, his forefingers stuffed into his front pockets. “We came down for dinner,” he said. His teeth bit into his bottom lip. My heart swelled.

  “You look nice,” he said, eyes sliding down my silky green top and white jeans. “Not that I don’t like your jogging outfit too.”

  Under my hands, I felt a tremor. “Dauphine?” I looked down.

  She shook her head and pressed her face into my belly, her shoulders shaking.

  “Oh, honey.” I ran my hands over her hair and her shoulders. “I’m here.” Sinking down, I crouched and looked up at her, gently brushing her hair back from her wet cheeks. “Mermaid tears?” I asked with a smile.

  “You came.” Her voice was tremulous, her lip quivering. “Papa said I couldn’t see you until tomorrow.”

  I glanced behind her. “I was missing you both so much,” I said, looking right at him. “I couldn’t wait.”

  Xavier’s eyes flickered and his throat bobbed, his chin dipping slightly.

  I dragged my eyes from him and smiled back up at Dauphine. “Any chance I can join you both for dinner?”

  “Oui! Papa, s’il te plait?” She turned to her father.

  “Bien sûr, ma petite.” Then he caught my eye and held out his hand to me. “I would love nothing more.”

  I dropped my gaze from his deep, warm eyes to his outstretched hand. With a deep breath, I took it. His fingers, warm and dry, closed around mine. Inside, my soul seemed to levitate and I wasn’t sure it would come back down. Dauphine grabbed my other hand, and with a laugh, I let myself be dragged toward the Peninsula Grill.

  Dauphine’s tears were forgotten as she caught a second wind and chattered nonstop until her eyes grew droopy.

  Xavier signaled for the check as soon as we finished eating some appetizers and salads.

  As we left the restaurant, Xavier picked Dauphine up effortlessly, and she tucked her head on his shoulder. There was no discussion of whether I should go with them, but Xavier strode away and opened the door to the courtyard for me. I slipped through, my heart getting louder in my ears.

  We walked across the courtyard, the landscaping gently lit by lights even though it wasn’t dark yet. The tinkling from the central fountain made me think about peeing. I was nervous.

  Xavier swiped a key card, and we entered a foyer that had stairs going up. He waved me ahead of him, and even though he had Dauphine in his arms I couldn’t help think of him following me up the stairs in Calvi. On the first level was a living room and kitchen, elegantly decorated in earth tones with modern lines and sumptuous finishes. There was another stair well going up but Xavier headed through a door to another bedroom with Dauphine. I quickly used the bathroom while Xavier helped her get her pajamas on.

  “Josie,” she said sleepily when I came out.

  “I’m here, love. Let’s go to the bathroom and clean your teeth. Papa will hold you up.”

  She sleepily did her business, and then leaned against Xavier as I gently brushed her teeth while she slept standing up. Then he carried her to bed and kissed her forehead. I kissed her too, and then heart in my throat, I followed Xavier out to the living area.

  He strolled to the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of wine? Or something else?”

  “Wine would be great.” From across the counter, I watched him take down two glasses and reach into the fridge for a chilled bottle. “This is a nice hotel. One of my favorites.”

  “Why’s that?” he asked, twisting the corkscrew into the top of the bottle and then popping it free with ease. His forearms, the tendons flexed, the scattering of dark hair over tanned skin, were mesmerizing. “You okay?” he asked, amused.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  He shook his head and pressed his lips together to hide a smile. Then he poured two glasses and held one out to me. “I asked why it was one of your favorite hotels.”

  Taking the wine, I clinked against his glass softly, then took a small sip. The tart chill slipped over my tongue. “How about you tell me about your latest hotel project?”

  “Ah. Hard to keep a secret in this town, eh?”

  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the concrete kitchen counter. “About as hard as keeping a secret on a boat.”

  He chuckled and nodded.

  Setting my wine aside, I clasped my hands. “I don’t want to work for Tate ever again. I would have thought you’d known that.”

  “I did.”

  My eyebrows pinched together. “So why ask him to give me my job back or risk losing the business entirely?”

  “So you could have the pleasure of telling him to fuck off.”


  Inhaling deeply through my nose, I reveled in the ballooning joy and love that was filling my chest. “Ah,” I said. “And why would that be?”

  “I figured that was the best gift I could give a woman who doesn’t need anything.”

  “You bought an entire hotel project worth millions just so I could tell someone to stuff it?”

  “I wanted him to recognize how talented you were, how much he’d lost, how short-sighted he was, and I wanted him to beg. Did he beg?”

  “For him, I think it was begging.” I shrugged, trying to fight the smile that was desperate to break out.

  “Some men don’t know how to beg,” he said quietly, rounding the counter top. He stopped when we were face to face. His eyes roamed all over me, leaving sparks in their wake. Taking a lock of my hair, he twisted it around his finger.

  “Is that so?” I asked, my breath choppy. “Are you one of those men?”

  He bit his lip as if deep in thought, then looked me square in the eyes and slowly got down on his knees.

  I laughed nervously. “Xavier, get up. I was joking.”

  His fingers wandered up my thighs and hips to my waist and then encircled me, his forehead coming forward to rest against my belly.

  I swallowed, my mouth dry and my heart racing. My fingers danced through his soft hair.

  His lips found my skin under my shirt.

  I hissed in a breath.

  “Please,” he begged against my skin, peppering soft kisses and taking small tastes. “Will you be with me? Will you be with Dauphine and me? Will you let me love you? Will you love this broken heart of mine? And forgive me for hurting you? Let me wake up every morning to your smile, to the smell of your skin, to the sound of your love?”

  “I don’t—ouch!” I hissed. “Did you just bite me?”

  “Mais, oui. You said something that did not sound like yes.”

  “Maybe you aren’t that good at begging.”

  He raised an eyebrow in challenge, mischief dancing in his darkening eyes.

  “Also, I actually do want to consult on that project.”

  He laughed as his fingers made quick work of the button and zipper for my white jeans.

  “This is unfair.” I gasped as his mouth followed my jeans down over my hips, his breath hot against my fast dampening core.