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

My mouth dropped open, heat flooding my chest and face. I was pretty sure that wasn’t what he’d said. But if that was the more palatable version, I felt even more like shit.

“Go,” he growled.

“Fine.” Pushing off the railing toward the stairs, my heart pounded. “Asshole.” I couldn’t help hissing the word under my breath as I started down the steps.

He gave a bitter laugh, letting me know he’d heard me. “It’s best to remember that.”

I hadn’t meant him to really hear me. But what had just happened? One minute he was opening up, the next he was snarling. Why had I agreed to this job, again?

Calming my breathing, I counted to ten as I went downstairs. He didn’t have to be so damned rude.

Although, I’d blundered in on a really raw and private moment he was having. I supposed he was snapping at me like a wounded dog would. Not meaning to inflict pain, but not being able to see past his own. Perhaps he’d been about to lose it and hadn’t wanted me to see. Or was suddenly embarrassed at realizing how much he was sharing—vulnerability making him attack.

I made it the last few steps toward my cabin as I became sure he’d simply been protecting himself.

I was still offended.

But from his point of view … I sighed, knowing I’d apologize tomorrow. I’d make sure he knew his secrets were safe with me.

Or was it better to pretend it hadn’t happened?

Ugh.

My brain was too tired now to think about it. But I knew I wanted to know him more. Even when he was cold and cutting. And that alone was a dangerous thought.

Dauphine was still sprawled sideways across her bed, and the sight of her fizzled my upset like a popped balloon, and I was again reminded that everyone on this boat was hurting in some way. And my job was to take care of her, not get to know her father. Letting out a long deep breath, I gently shifted her and pulled the duvet over her. “Bonne nuit, sweet girl.”

Then I went to my own cabin and climbed into bed and replayed everything over again. I heard the French words he snapped at me in my head, though I didn’t know what they meant.

Chapter Nineteen

The morning sky was cloudless, the breeze still cool, and sun sparkled across the deep blue of the water in a bay off an island called Île Sainte-Marguerite. The water was especially clear and magical here, and because it was a nature preserve, the fish were incredibly abundant. I’d downloaded an ‘Introduction to Marine Biology’ course for Dauphine and me to work through together and planned to bring it up later today.

The last few days had begun to form a sort of routine. While her father worked in the mornings, Dauphine and I would have breakfast, then do her reading for school followed by me teaching her some yoga poses. Then we’d follow her curiosity, which most often led to her asking me about architecture. I was super tickled she had such an interest, and in the course of explaining and sketching elements for her, I found my original passion coming back. It was also fun to realize our time together was also like French lessons for me and English lessons for her as we bumped into concepts we couldn’t easily talk about because of the language barrier.

In the afternoons, usually after lunch, Xavier would come and find his daughter. Sometimes we all swam, but more often than not I’d take the opportunity to give them some time alone and retreat with my sketchbook or do a couple of online continuing education courses I’d always meant to do but never seemed to find the time for at home.

When Xavier left the boat for in person meetings, I’d encourage Dauphine to stay out of the sun and we’d watch movies, play board games, or cards before dinner with the crew. In the evenings, we’d compete to see who could wish on the first star. It was blissful in so many ways. But it was also clear that whatever fragile camaraderie Xavier and I had built up after our rocky start, it had shattered the night on the deck. And I wished I knew why. He wasn’t rude, but he wasn’t exactly friendly either. And he definitely avoided being alone with me.

I missed Charleston, my mom, Meredith, and Tabs, in theory—even elements of my job, of course—but I’d grown so attached to the crew, the rhythms of boat life, and obviously, Dauphine. My best friend in the world right now was a ten-year-old girl. And Andrea, of course. She was fun too, and she and I had grown closer over the last week, chatting after Dauphine went to bed.

Finally on French time, I’d actually woken up earlier than usual this morning. So before leaving my cabin, I spent some time emailing my resume to the few architectural firms I knew of in Charleston. And then, biting my tongue, I’d applied to some farther afield. I didn’t want to leave Charleston, but I was slowly starting to realize I might not have a choice if I wanted a job in the field I’d spent eight years training for. It would be a step down in prestige, and many of the firms were responsible for some outright monstrosities. But beggars weren’t exactly choosers. And as gorgeous as this little sojourn on the Mediterranean was, I was well aware I needed to get back to reality at some point. I quickly read through the requirements and submitted for a senior position at a firm called Kendrick & Rutledge in Columbia, saying a quiet prayer of forgiveness for going over to the dark side of office park and strip mall architecture, and then closed out the connection.

After another delicious breakfast, I laid my hands on my belly at the table in the galley, wondering how long until the carb fest