Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance, Natasha Boyd [e reader books .TXT] 📗

then took the beach bag I’d packed and reached in to add the contents to his bag. He transferred the monkey and the clothes and the toothbrush.

“And water and a snack,” I prompted. “It could be late. She could be hungry.”

He nodded.

“Wait, there’s also some sketch paper in there. If there’s any waiting around. She might be bored.”

He reached back in and drew out the paper and an old receipt or something that he stared hard at.

“Okay, well.” I wrung my hands. This was agony. I wanted to go with him and be there when he got her back. And he would. He had to. I wanted to hug Dauphine so tight against my heart when he did. But I had to step back and let him do this himself. It was the only way he knew. “Please tell her I love her when you get her back.”

He looked up at me, the small square of paper still in his hand. “Were you part of it?”

I looked at him, confused. “What?”

“I asked, were you a part of it?”

“Of what?”

“Taking her.”

The words detonated between us.

My skin grew cold as the blood in my body seemed to drain away. I was paralyzed in shock, unable to even form a reply. He thought I had something to do with this? Why?

“Are you asking me what I think you are?”

“Yes.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Jesus. “I—I can’t—”

“It’s an easy question.” He cocked his head, his mouth twisting in disgust. “A question I think you are having trouble answering.”

“What are you talking about? What’s the question exactly? Are you kidding me?”

He held up what was in his hands.

I narrowed my eyes on it. It was the business card that the creep Alfred Morosto had given me as Dauphine and I left the bathroom at Le Club Cinquante Cinq.

“Evan believes that Michello, Arriette’s brother, is working with Alfred Morosto. That somehow Morosto tipped Arriette’s brother off about our plans.”

Oh. Oh.

“I need you to tell me every single thing he said to you that day on the beach, and what you told him, and I want to know what he promised you.”

Chapter Forty-Two

The approaching helicopter was sleek, black, and shiny with minimal markings. There was just a tail number that began with XP, and I guessed it was the helicopter version of a vanity plate. It drew a crowd in the port as it touched down at the end of a long seawall.

I had no idea what kind of string-pulling had happened to allow Xavier to use the port as his own personal airport.

Xavier barked at me to follow as he ducked low. I hadn’t thought I was going with him, but everything suddenly changed. I’d gone from his lover to a traitor in the blink of an eye.

He was reacting out of fear and panic, and I was trying really hard to keep that in mind.

But internally I was seething and hurting, my fists clenching, and my head aching from grinding my teeth.

The wind in my ears and thump of the blades was deafening. I held my hair out of my eyes as best I could as I followed him, running low to the loud beast. If it wasn’t for Dauphine, I would have told him to fuck off when he suddenly demanded I leave all my things and accompany him. But with a chance to get to her sooner, help find her, or at least be there when they did, I was biting back my anger.

He twisted the handle of the door and wrenched it open, gesturing me inside.

I climbed up into the cool dark interior, dipping my chin at a single pilot in a black helmet and headset with reflective glasses who nodded back. There were four black leather passenger seats, two pairs facing each other. I sat on the farthest one, facing toward the cockpit. I didn’t know much about being in one of these things, but if it was anything like a train, I wanted to be facing in the direction I was heading. Nerves slipped through me, upending my stomach.

Xavier secured the door before taking the seat just inside, catty corner to me, his back to the cockpit, his long legs folding next to me. The closing of the door didn’t diminish the sound, just muffled the sharpness.

I found a seatbelt and secured it and tried my best to smooth and retie my hair. Then I looked over at Xavier.

His eyes were bloodshot, his hair wild from the wind, and I suddenly noticed he’d misbuttoned his shirt getting dressed earlier. I hung on to that small detail to remind myself he was a human and terrified father and not a megalomaniac billionaire who thought I’d wronged him. Not deep down. At least I hoped so.

He turned his head to nod at the pilot over his shoulder and unhooked a set of earphones from his headrest, putting them on. He tapped them and pointed to beside my head.

I turned my face, seeing the headset right next to me by the window.

My stomach lurched as the machine rose, and the pier rushed away beneath us. Fumbling with the earphones and the mouthpiece, I managed to get them on.

Silence.

My ears rang in the void of sound as I adjusted. Then Xavier spoke, something in French. The pilot responded. They conversed back and forth a few times.

Outside the window, the low sun cascaded over the peninsula of La Revellata and over the azure bays. It was hard to believe what had happened down there just a couple of hours ago. I should have been building emotional armor instead of falling all the way in love. Because damn it, my heart was splintering, and I wanted to double over with the pain of it.

Fear for Dauphine was the only thing keeping me functioning.

Then the helicopter banked, causing me to grab onto my seat with both hands, and turned out to sea.

“Josephine,” Xavier said in my ears.

I looked up at his flat mouth and