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

in six months. It was that question that broke my mother. She loved that house. She and my father had bought it together, well before my stepfather had entered the picture.” My wine glass empty, I picked up my water glass and took a long sip, remembering how she’d all but collapsed and I’d had to try and get her to the sofa. “Not many friends reached out to me. Even friends I’d been in school with for years. Meredith did though.” I smiled. “I’ve known Meredith since elementary school. Tabs only since college, though it feels like so much longer. I miss them. They’re also my family really.”

Xavier reached for the dusty bottle of red wine Cristo had opened earlier and poured us both new glasses.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said. “I can’t imagine how that must have felt. Like an earthquake under your feet.”

“Something like that. If the earthquake destroys the whole world around you and leaves you standing and wondering where it all went. It still haunts us. Charleston has a long memory. The day I accepted the job to come here, I’d just been passed over for a promotion at work, and the senior partner made some mention of my stepfather. After all these years, we are still paying for his sins. I was told that I’d never get a promotion.”

Xavier scowled. “Fool,” he said acidly.

I chuckled. “I appreciate your blind allegiance, but you have no idea if I’m good at my job.”

“You’re extraordinary. I’d stake my life on it. You are passionate about everything you do. Interested. Curious. Talented, if the sketches Dauphine has shown me are anything to go by. You can draw out the exact detail in a façade that makes it what it is. And top of the class student.”

I raised my eyebrows, flushed with pleasure. “A top student? And how would you know that.”

He took a breath, and then looked me in the eyes. “I have your college transcripts. I make a habit of thoroughly investigating everyone who comes near my family.”

“That sounds lonely,” I fired defensively, not sure how I felt about him looking into me. It made sense given his position. It’s still didn’t feel right.

“It is lonely.”

Somehow that deflated me. “So, you knew everything about me. Why bother asking?” I asked tightly.

“Because those were facts. But there was no story. You’re the story, Joséphine.”

He picked up his glass and sniffed the new wine. In Charleston, I used to find that pretentious. But Xavier swirling and inhaling wine was sexy as all hell. Maybe it was just the confident way he sat, leaned back, legs slightly splayed. Candlelight and the glow from the overhead twinkle lights played across his features. Maybe it was the way he held his glass. And the fact that we were sitting on a rooftop on an island in the middle of the Mediterranean. But more than that, it was his presence. His intellect. And the way he was clearly a successful and important businessman, and yet he was looking at me like I was the most fascinating creature he’d ever encountered. It could go to a girl’s head.

After he took his first sip of the new bottle and didn’t spit it out or wince in horror, I assumed it was probably excellent. Not that I’d expected otherwise.

I took a mouthful and slow swallow. Wow. It was. “Mmmmm.”

Xavier cleared his throat. “Um, what was that?” he asked, his voice rough.

“What?”

“That face you just made. That small sound especially.”

“I made a sound? The wine’s so good, I guess. It conjures up images of lying in a dark field, staring up at a starlit sky surrounded by the scent of blackberries.”

“You have a way with words.”

“Ha. Not usually.” I gave him a small smile.

He set his glass down. “I don’t suppose while you are lying there inhaling the blackberries and staring at the stars I am between your legs, pushing up your dress and tasting you?”

I choked. “What? Oh my God.” My voice came out in a breathy squeak. The faint buzz and warmth of the simmering chemistry between us flared like a struck match and spread throughout my lower belly.

He gazed at me. “I love that sound you just made. I’m addicted to that sound. And that look you get on your face. You are intoxicating, Joséphine.”

My hand shook slightly as I took another small sip of wine in an attempt to not look as though I’d just been blown sideways. “You should give a girl warning before you make love to her from three feet away.”

He inhaled through his nose. “Is that what I’m doing?”

I set my wine down, licking my lips. Uncrossing and crossing my legs, I shifted in my seat. A move that didn’t go unnoticed by Xavier. “It’s definitely what it feels like,” I admitted. Just the way he said my name sometimes made my stomach free fall.

Cristo took that moment to materialize, and quietly, as if he could sense the change in atmosphere, cleared up our dishes. He whispered to Xavier.

“Dessert?” Xavier asked me.

I shook my head. I was full and was sure it would be delicious, but I just wanted to be alone with Xavier.

As soon as Cristo left and the dumbwaiter rattled its way down below, we were left in candlelit silence. The strains of soft classical guitar had faded between pieces and now slowly came back to life.

“There’s so much I still want to know about you,” I said. “Two days doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Maybe it will be. We are still at the beginning.”

I didn’t bother to disagree. Instead I nodded, shoving down the odd feeling of sadness that bubbled through my happiness.

“We won’t be disturbed again.” He slid his chair back and lifted a beckoning hand. “Viens ici?”

Come here?

As if I could resist.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Back at the boat, all was dark. Only Paco was apparently on board, and even he had retired for the night.

After Xavier had beckoned me over to his side of the