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

due to worrying about falling overboard, and instead to do with this strange turn of events.

“You sound surprised,” he said as he handed my bags down into the boat.

“Have you met you?” It was out before I could check myself.

Evan barked a laugh at his boss’ expense that echoed across the rocky cliff and bounced back at us off the water. “Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

Xavier gave Evan a glare and said something rapidly in French, to which Evan smirked and shrugged, then stepped carefully into the tender. Evan handed me down, and Xavier held out his hand for my other. I grasped it—warm and firm—then stepped gingerly into the shallow vessel.

“I’ll see you in a couple of days.” Evan gave a salute, then set off up the stairs, grinning.

“Wait. You’re not coming?” I called after him.

“He has business to attend for me,” Xavier said, his mouth straightened with concentration as he pulled the choke on the tender.

“Oh. Okay. So, you don’t need a bodyguard in Corsica?” I asked skeptically.

He raised an eyebrow and gunned the engine. “It’s an unplanned visit.”

“But didn’t you say you had a lunch meeting? How is that unplanned?” I raised my voice to be heard.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

I texted Andrea. Don’t be surprised. I’m headed back to the boat.

The afternoon sun was warm on my bare arms and simple white t-shirt. Though the water was slightly rough. A wind had picked up. I slipped my sunglasses over my eyes and focused on our traverse across the water, holding tight to the plastic handles on the tender sides.

Another yacht was in the small bay. A hulking gray monolith that could be military looking if not for the spacecraft-style design elements of curves and reflective glass and the two bikini-clad girls dancing to unheard music on the sun deck. A Russian flag flew from the aft deck. I glanced toward Xavier to see if he’d noticed, but he looked directly ahead to our destination.

“I’m confused,” I blurted, trying to be heard over the wind.

“What about?” He steered toward the stern of our anchored boat.

“Your change of heart. I’d have thought you’d have been glad to be rid of me. You almost were. What changed?”

He slowed the engine and pointed at the rope coiled by my feet. I’d seen him and Evan do this enough times that I knew he needed me to grab the cleat of the swim deck and tie us on when we neared.

I grabbed the rope and focused on getting us secured. “I mean, I know Evan thought it would be nice for me to see Corsica, but you didn’t need to go along with it.”

“It was my idea. Not his.”

My head snapped up to his, but I could read nothing behind his sunglasses.

“Josie! You’re back.” Paco came down the steps, effectively ending the chance of getting any kind of elaboration to that odd statement.

I returned the captain’s grin because it was impossible not to. “Captain Paco. The fates didn’t want me to leave today. There was a strike and I couldn’t get the train.”

“I heard.” Paco took my baggage up to the steps, and Rod grabbed it and took it inside. I stood in the breeze on the main deck as Paco and Xavier stowed the tender. Above us, on the cliff, I searched out the balustrade of Madame Pascale’s home and saw her and Dauphine standing at the railing, looking tiny from this distance. I waved. They waved back.

Xavier soon joined me, and we stood silently next to each other as the engine turned over and Paco pulled the anchor, then maneuvered us out of the bay. A cool wind had picked up, and goosebumps erupted over my bare arms. Or perhaps it was standing next to this man.

He made a soft throat clearing as if he was about to speak. When nothing came, I turned to him, waiting, as he looked out over the water.

“I don’t know what I am to you right now,” I began. “I mean, are you still my boss? Am I your guest?”

His face swung to mine, blue eyes as complex as the ocean beneath us, fixing on me “What do you want to be?”

My heart bobbed into my throat, shutting off air.

He shook his head suddenly. “I’m sorry, I—” cutting himself off. He winced his eyes shut. “I know you must be angry—”

My head bobbed back in surprise. “Angry? Why would I be angry?” That was the last emotion I was feeling.

“After last night. After what I did. And then you left. I didn’t stop you. I let you leave, thinking …” he trailed off.

“Thinking?” I prompted.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this. I thought I could. I …”

Panic flared. But for exactly what I couldn’t tell. I simply acknowledged the feeling, knowing I’d have to examine it later. “Can’t do what?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” He swallowed and looked away.

Clarity hit me. He’d asked me back on the boat. Without Dauphine. My stomach flipped. And I knew.

He looked vulnerable all of a sudden. As rich and powerful as he was, he was also just a man. He was attracted to me. He’d admitted it. Shown me, actually, in no uncertain terms. To be fair, he probably just wanted to get laid. But my relationship with his daughter had complicated things.

And now, for whatever reason, he didn’t know whether or how to proceed. That was what he meant by not being able to do this.

My heart seemed to swell into a heavy beating beast as I contemplated whether to help him bridge the gap between us. I’d be risking my heart, I knew it. It might be just lust for him, but I was attached. To both him and his daughter. Shit. It would hurt when I left. It had fucking killed me this morning, saying goodbye to Dauphine and leaving without seeing Xavier one last time. Maybe it was better to leave us uncomplicated.

“You asked what I wanted to be to you,”