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

“Oui,” he answered and perched next to me. “I had an early call with Tokyo, and then I had to do some exercise before I gave into the urge to come up here and drag you to my bed again.”

I smoothed my hair with my free hand, realizing it must look absolutely wild from our outdoor sleeping arrangements.

“You look beautiful.”

“Shush, you charmer.” I grinned and took a sip of coffee, creamy, bitter, and smooth all at once. I raised an eyebrow. “How did you know how I take my coffee?”

“I called Dauphine.”

“You’re joking?”

He grinned into his coffee, looking slightly embarrassed. “Non.” He chuckled.

“Hmm. How is she?”

“Wonderful. This afternoon they are going to visit the newly discovered Roman ship. It’s not open to the public yet, but my mother has her ways.”

“And Dauphine loves the idea of shipwrecks and treasure.”

“She does.”

We shared a smile over his daughter.

“She’s wonderful,” I told him since I’d never outright said it. “And it’s a testament to you. You should be very proud. I was scared about taking this position. I’ve never thought I’d be good with children. But she makes it easy.”

“You’re natural.”

I lifted a shoulder. “I just hope my own children are as charming one day. Maybe I’m only good with her.” I laughed, but it slipped a little as I realized Xavier had glanced away uncomfortably.

“Why architecture? After everything you told me last night?”

I frowned, slightly taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you are passionate about history. It’s obvious you like keeping old things, not building new things.”

“Well, I—” I let out a surprised huff of air. “You’re right, I suppose. I never looked at it quite so black and white. Maybe …” I knew what he was saying was right, but I’d been working toward being a successful partner at an architectural firm since I’d started college. My father had always known I’d be good at it, ever since I’d known what I wanted to be. He’d encouraged me. He’d fostered my love for the details no one else saw. He’d—

“What?”

Huh. “Um. I think I’m having an existential crisis.” Should I even be an architect?

Xavier’s concerned face grew more serious. “I’m sorry. I only meant—”

“No. It’s fine.” I cleared my throat. Of course I should be an architect. My degree was the only one I’d have ever wanted, but … “Maybe I’ve been focusing on working at the wrong places. Looking at it wrong. God, to think, I even applied for a job at a firm that builds office parks.” I shuddered. “How did you get so smart?”

He chuckled and kissed my hair. “Well, I must do a few more things before my meeting.” He stood.

I cleared my throat. “Okay. Thank you for the coffee.” I glanced down at my attire of his lone wrinkled shirt. “Is it safe to go downstairs dressed like this?”

“Of course. I was thinking perhaps you would like to stay in my cabin tonight. If you need your own space I understand. But perhaps you would sleep better?”

“It’s not that I need my own space, but …” How did I tell him his dead wife was everywhere in that room? And knowing now what he’d shared with me about her, it felt even more heartrending. As if by keeping all her things for two years untouched that he wasn’t ready to give her memory up. Maybe he wasn’t. And where did that leave me? I already knew I was temporary for him, but I didn’t need the reminder while we made love. Not to mention that was a sure-fire way to say bye-bye to my big O. And I was quite attached to the ones he coaxed out of my body.

I took a breath. “It feels as if your room is yours and Arriette’s room. I don’t want to interfere with your memory of her. And it’s all right,” I rushed on. “I’m okay. Not, like, jealous, or anything.” I grimaced. Jealous? Of a dead woman? Fuuuucck. I needed more sleep, clearly. “Sorry, that was not what I meant.” I flailed. “I actually don’t know what I’m trying to say. I’m trying to be sensitive to your feelings, and mine, and her memory, and I’m not doing a very good job. I’m sorry.”

“Tu as fini?” He sat back down, eyebrow raised.

Was I finished? I nodded and studied his face for a clue into how much I’d just offended or upset him.

He looked thoughtful. “I have made a mistake in not taking Arriette’s things from the boat. Last summer, it was … it was the first time Dauphine and I had come to the boat without her maman. We did not stay too long. It was difficult. I should have done it before now. But I got busy. And then I worried perhaps I should wait until Dauphine wants to look and see what she wants to keep. But she seems so young for such a difficult task. And so, I waited. Or perhaps I avoided it. I did not expect to have someone … to bring … a lover here.” He swallowed heavily, his tone had grown thick.

“Then you should wait.”

“I’ve waited long enough. I spoke to Dauphine last week about it. I’ll be moving Arriette’s things—”

“I’m sorry.” I laid a hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. “You don’t need to share this. Or explain anything. You don’t owe me that.”

He took a long breath. “Perhaps we can talk about it later?”

“If you want.”

“Thank you.” He gazed at me then leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine in a brief, soft kiss. “Perhaps you should come with me today.”

I bit my lip. “To your meeting?”

“Why not?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Come. You will like where I’m going. It was rebuilt in the eighteen hundreds on a fifteenth century foundation. And it’s not open to the general public.”

“Mmmm,” I moaned in pleasure. “You really know a lot about seduction, don’t you?”

He burst into a warm laugh. “Is that why I finally have