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

“D’accord. You can go,” he said, his voice stiff. His expression had become troubled.

“Of course.” I headed for the door but paused with my hand on the latch. “You know,” I said, my voice soft. “I’ve lost a father, so I have some idea of what families go through—what it’s like to lose a parent. I’ll be here for Dauphine, and I’ll keep her safe.” I hesitated. On the tip of my tongue was to tell him I could be there for him too, but I bit my lips closed instead. It wasn’t wise to get any closer to this man. He was damaged, and I didn’t think it was solely to do with the loss of his wife.

I walked out and closed the door behind me, heading into the living area.

“What was that about?” Evan asked, making me jump. He was leaning against the wall just as I emerged from the hall.

I placed a hand on my chest. “What?”

He tilted his head, an odd, contemplative expression on his face.

“He wanted to talk to me about Dauphine,” I found myself explaining. “And paperwork. I signed—”

“Relax. I was just curious. I’m glad you signed the paperwork. Good to have you aboard.” He smiled and headed out through the main living room onto the back deck, leaving me confused.

Hearing Dauphine’s chatter, I followed the sound to the galley.

Only later when Dauphine and I stood on the stern of the boat and watched the small tender with her father and Evan motoring to shore, did I remember I’d meant to have a talk with Evan about him saying I hadn’t been allowed to leave the boat when that had clearly been made up on the spot.

I breathed in the sea air, the breeze caressing my skin, the waves below so blue it looked as though a giant had spilled a pot of indigo ink.

I looked down at my young charge, her tangled curls blowing in the breeze and her eyes, just like her father’s, matching the swirling blue depths of the sea below us. In just a day, she and her father had wormed their way under my skin and I knew, even when I went home, they might never leave me.

Chapter Fifteen

After Evan and Mr. Pascale had left, Paco anchored the boat in a little bay nearby he said literally translated to False Silver. Dauphine was sure that meant treasure. We lathered ourselves with sunscreen, and I decided to wear one of my bikinis since it was just she and I. Paco and Rod had disappeared down to the engine room to tinker at whatever had been giving them trouble, and Andrea was last seen with a pile of linens, napkins, and silver polishing cream. Chef was chopping and prepping things for whatever menus he was preparing for lunch and dinner.

I followed Dauphine out onto the back deck and did a double take when I saw a large inflatable slide had been fastened from the deck past the lower platform to the water. “Wow,” I said, stopping.

The sun sparkled across the water. The boat rocked gently, and Dauphine clapped her hands in delight when she saw that Rod had unfurled and inflated the long slide off the side of the boat.

I leaned over the railing. “Well, that looks a little daunting.”

“We need to be wet first.” Dauphine raced down toward the back deck in order to jump in.

“Wait,” I called and hurried after her to the edge of the lower platform.

Below us the water was like a jewel. I could tell it was deep, but it was so clear and translucent it was almost like looking through a kaleidoscope made up of turquoise, vibrant greens, and dark blues. “This is amazing,” I said.

“We count, yes?”

I laughed. “Sure,” I said. “One, two, three!”

We both leapt.

The water exploded upwards, cool and sharp against my skin as we plunged in. It sucked the breath from my chest and loosened my worn bikini top, which I quickly held on to with my free hand.

Dauphine’s small hand left mine as the weight of my body drew me deeper, and my feet caressed eddies of even colder water. With my eyes closed, I reveled in the feeling of the quiet. Already I could sense the saline on my lips and teasing at the seam of my eyelids. For a moment I fought the urge to kick straight back up, eking out a few more precious seconds of the novel feeling. Had I ever plunged into an ocean without fear of the unknown, the unseen? I felt a swell of water and knew Dauphine was treading water nearby. With a kick I rose easily and burst through the surface with my face turned to the sky. Salt hit my tongue as I opened my mouth to drag in a breath. I wiped excess water from my eyes and opened them to meet Dauphine’s rapturous smile.

“Fantastique, non?”

I laughed, unable to contain my joy at this simple pleasure. “Yes. Amazing. It’s chilly at first.”

“Yes. It is wonderful. Papa says in one more month it will be too warm. Now it is parfait!”

“Perfect,” I said.

“Perfect,” she mimicked. “Now we do the slide. Me first. You will wait for me here?”

“Sure. Go on ahead.”

She turned and moved toward the swimming deck and ladder, and I kicked my legs as I tightened the bikini strap around my neck. The navy hull and bright white of the yacht decks made a sleek and majestic picture against the cloudless blue sky and perfectly unmarred horizon. It took up almost all my view. To think, this time last week I’d been sitting at my little cubicle desk at the back of a building in downtown Charleston, my eyes straining over numbers, angles, sketches, and budget spreadsheets in the harsh fluorescent light. For the first time since my world had turned upside down, I felt a sudden rush of relief and escape. I didn’t know what that meant practically