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

house with all its memories. If I wasn’t working on one of the biggest deals of my business life, I’d suggest we go overseas somewhere and reset.

“J’arrive!” Dauphine spun out the door. Her lanky ten-year old body was dressed in a t-shirt and denim shorts, her hair unbrushed.

“And I’m leaving,” responded Martine and pulled her into a tight hug. Then she set her at arm’s length. “You be good for your papa, you hear? I will see you in two months. Try not to get sunburned, brush your hair and teeth, and don’t forget to keep up with your reading. Less YouTube, more words. Okay?”

I stood and gave Martine a kiss on each cheek. She’d been a Godsend after Arriette died two years ago, filling as much of a motherly role as she could in our household. Not that my late wife had been an exceptional mother, I hated to admit, but Martine was a female presence at least when my mother couldn’t be around.

Dauphine and I sat and ate the Pain Bagnat sandwiches and drank our sparkling drinks. Orangina for her and Perrier for me.

“Do you have more work again, Papa?” Dauphine asked when she’d exhausted all her topics of chatter.

“Mon chou, I always have work. I’m the boss. My work is never done.”

She folded her arms. “I’m bored.”

“Only boring people get bored.” I shrugged.

She slitted her eyes. “I’m not boring!”

“I know.”

“Hmm,” she griped. “So what should I do? I’m bored of swimming, and you won’t let me be on a screen. You know I could learn something on a screen.”

“Like what?”

She gnawed her lip. “Like … baking?”

I inwardly cringed, knowing that would lead to her wanting to cook something, and with no Martine here to supervise, that was an impossibility.

“How about drawing?”

“That’s boring.”

I raised my eyebrows, unwilling to be pulled into a disagreement over that particular hobby. She loved to draw. “What about coding your own video game?”

Her head cocked to the side. Her nose, slightly pink and peeling, was dotted with tiny freckles. I needed to be better about sunscreen.

“Truly?” she asked.

“Yes. Find a YouTube video about basic coding and see if you can make a game we can play against each other.” I pushed back from the table and stood, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Or draw,” I suggested again, knowing that’s what she would probably pick. “Now, I have to get on a call to America. Please take our plates inside on your way.”

After she’d left, I poured another water just as a movement caught my eye. Looking up, I saw Evan striding toward me, having come around the side of the house.

“Christ. You’ll give a man a heart attack sneaking up like that,” I said, switching to English as I sat back down.

He grinned, eyes hidden behind reflective Ray-Bans. “For your own safety, you should be more observant.”

“I employ you for that, asshole.”

We clasped hands like an arm wrestle in the air across the table, then let go and he sat.

“On est prêt?” I asked him, switching back to French.

“We’re ready,” Evan confirmed. “The boat’s all stocked up and the crew is waiting.” His accent in French was atrocious. Normally I ribbed him, but today I let it go.

“Did you have any luck finding a nanny?”

“I have a call in twenty minutes. Hopefully we’ll have an American on a plane by tomorrow night.”

“Amazing what enough money will buy. Dauphine will love that. She loves all those American shows.”

I grimaced. “Banal teenage humor. She’s beginning to talk like she’s ten going on seventeen. But at least she’s improving her English.”

“I hope you find someone. I have the itinerary planned for all the meetings you gave me, and you’ll be spending a lot of day times off the boat.” Evan shifted. “I, uh, took the liberty of speaking to Jorge.”

I opened my mouth at the mention of my mother’s private secretary, but Evan spoke over me. “Just as a precaution. Your mother will be in Monaco for most of the month, but in a few weeks she’ll be in the Cap Ferrat house. Jorge says she’s been talking about reaching out and asking if Dauphine can visit for longer than just the occasional weekend.”

“Did he now?”

I leaned back in my chair, spreading my legs and resting my arms on each arm. “And I don’t suppose you then happened to mention we’d be on the boat and in the area?”

Evan had perfected the art of non-expression. “I may have mentioned it.”

We stared at each other.

At least, I stared at his sunglasses through my sunglasses, giving him the stink eye. For all I knew he was taking a quick power nap.

“Fine,” I ground out after a moment. “Did I mention how much of a nuisance you are?”

“Not that I recall. You should tell me again.” Then he broke out his stupid Tom Cruise smile.

I tutted in disgust, which only made him laugh.

After a second, he sobered. “You have to see your mother more often. She misses you. You can’t just let her be a grandmother to Dauphine and not be a mother to you.”

“I’m not avoiding her. I’ve just been busy.” That was the truth. I adored my mother, and she’d been wonderful since Arriette had passed. But lately, she was nagging me about moving on romantically, and I was tired of her little comments and constant plans to set me up. So yes, I’d been avoiding her.

“The second part I can attest to. But listen, X. Let her help. She’s got no one to fuss over, let her do what mother’s do best. Let her fuss over you as well as Dauphine.”

I felt like he was going to say more. “What?”

“Just …” He shrugged. “You could use a vacation.”

My hand swept around. “My life is a vacation. Didn’t you hear? Ritzy mansions, mega yachts, fast cars, and faster women. It’s been in all the papers,” I added, a bitter tone entering my voice. The paparazzi had been relentless since Arriette died, trying to misconstrue everything I