Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance Natasha Boyd (i read books .TXT) đź“–
- Author: Natasha Boyd
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“He wouldn’t have you watching his daughter if that was the case.”
My teeth continued working on my lip. “True.”
“What did he say exactly?”
I thought back to the morning before the beach club after yoga when I’d passed the stateroom and heard him and Evan talking in French, convinced I’d heard my name. “I don’t know. I was sure he said my name. It was in French and I was eavesdropping. He said something about impossible. Something, something coo.”
“Coo?”
“Yeah. I know. I told you, I couldn’t really tell, but I definitely heard my name.” I thought about that night on the top deck. “And I don’t know a lot of French, but I felt like the gist was he didn’t want me around. He also says stuff in French on purpose, like he knows I won’t understand him.”
Meredith hummed. “Like what?”
“If I knew—”
“You’d know. I get it. Jeez, that’s uncomfortable. But are you okay?” she asked. “Like you’re having a nice time apart from him, right?”
“I’ve been applying for jobs and haven’t heard back, which is making me panic a bit. I’m missing working. Designing. Using my brain. I know that’s odd to say. I think Dauphine is awesome, but I feel like my brain might turn to mush. How do people lie around in the lap of luxury all day and not get bored and crazy? I’ve started doing online courses. By choice!”
“Jeez, Josie. First world problems. Haven’t you ever taken a vacation? Pretend it’s a vacation.”
“I get bored on vacation, you know that. That’s why I’m always wanting to do stuff, go for a hike, go sightsee or whatever.”
“Grr. I know. And I can think of nothing better than lying around with a good book and nothing else to do. So why don’t you do stuff, then?”
“I’m stuck on a boat. If I didn’t have cabin fever before, I sure as heck do now.” But an idea began to form in my head. “Actually, maybe that’s the problem. I’m antsy. You’re right though. I think I need to tell him I need to do some field trips with Dauphine.” And ask him what I was doing wrong.
“Perfect. And I’m always right.”
I rolled my eyes as if she could see me. “Whatever.” I smiled.
“And I’ll bet I’m right that the attraction is probably mutual. But relationships between rich privileged billionaires and the girls who work for them … I don’t think they normally end well. Pretty Woman not included. The power dynamic is whack. Plus his history, you know? It screams baggage. And there’s Tabitha. So be very, very careful, okay?”
My throat felt tight. “I know. I am.” I forced out a slow breath. “I will. I promise.”
I didn’t want to hang up, but after a long goodbye, I groaned in frustration and mashed the end button before I rolled my face into my pillow and screamed.
Xavier sat in a lounge chair with a laptop, two phones, and a tray that held a large glass of iced water. Or vodka. Who knew?
“Oh.” I stopped. “Hi.”
He watched me from over the top of a sheaf of papers.
I guess now was as good a time as any to have that talk with him I’d said I was going to have.
“Um, do you have a few minutes?” I asked before digging my teeth into my lower lip.
He set down the papers and removed his sunglasses, and for a second I saw his gaze slide down to my attire. Or lack thereof. Dammit. I felt exposed in my swimsuit and not full of the confidence and bravado I’d armed myself with leaving my cabin. What did I want to discuss exactly?
“Well?” he asked when my silence grew awkward. His tone had gentled, as if he knew I was struggling.
“Dauphine,” I said, latching onto a safe topic. “I was thinking she and I should do more field trips. When you go to shore, perhaps she and I can do something in town sometimes.”
He cocked his head to the side. “We can ask Evan, of course. He would have to accompany you.”
“C-could you accompany us sometimes? I mean, I think Dauphine would like to do more things with you. But only if it’s safe obviously.”
“What did you have in mind?”
I wracked my brain that seemed to have lost most of the information I’d been feeding it over the last few weeks. “If we go back to Ile Saint Marguerite, she and I could go and see the Huguenot Memorial you mentioned. And then also, I was reading about this amazing turquoise river. It’s like a gorge or something, the color of the water is milky blue, and you can kayak—”
“Les Gorges du Verdon?”
“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
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