Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance by Natasha Boyd (books like beach read txt) 📕

The car slowed around a bend lined with tall, pointy cypress trees. Then we pulled onto a white gravel driveway in front of two towering wrought iron gates between two stucco pillars. The gates silently swung open, and then we were moving again, purring through them into a manicured estate. There were forests either side of us, but the road was bordered with small hedges and every few yards a topiary tree full of white roses. They gave way to lines of lavender as the trees cleared, and cresting a small hill, there was suddenly a sweeping manor house. Low, maybe two stories with an attic, but swung extravagantly out to both sides. It was aged stucco with neatly edged plum vine and a sturdy slate roof. The car did a slow turn and crunched to a halt outside the large wooden double front door.

Outside, the evening was filled with the scent of lavender and the sound of cicadas. Astrid and Jorge went inside, turning on lights. “Xavier’s housekeeper is away so Astrid will prepare our rooms,” Madame said.

“I’ll help,” I offered. I needed something to do or go crazy. Inside, the entryway soared up two stories with stucco walls, aged wooden beams, and terra-cotta floors. Astrid jogged up the tiled stairs, and I followed. I helped her put sheets on two queen beds in side by side rooms that were prettily decorated in blue and white and yellow and white respectively. Then at the end of a hall was clearly Dauphine’s room. A white canopy bed with fairy lights and covered in stuffed animals. Astrid peeled back the pale lavender coverlet and we made up the bed with fresh sheets. We worked quietly side by side, her English and my French unable to provide much conversation over the mute fear that something might go wrong, and Dauphine might not come home.

Downstairs, I could hear Madame and Jorge, and soon the smell of baking bread wound up the stairs. My stomach growled. On the side table was a picture in a frame. I stepped closer and picked it up. Dauphine was small, maybe five or six. Her mother, a slender and exotic looking stunner, her long hair falling in a silken cascade over one shoulder, knelt next to her daughter, an arm around her shoulder. They both smiled the same smile into the camera. Dauphine’s was missing two front teeth, but there was no mistaking she was this woman’s daughter. It must be a painful reminder for Xavier to see Arriette in his daughter every day.

Astrid cleared her throat, indicating she was waiting for me.

Following her, I entered the final bedroom. It had windows and a balcony across the back wall, but the space was dominated by a king-sized bed done in flax linen in shades of dried tobacco leaf. It was cozy and masculine and smelled of Xavier. The unique scent of his skin mixed with salt and cedar. I blinked, feeling lightheaded, a wave of sadness burning my throat.

My legs felt weak with the urge to crawl into the bed, surrounded by his scent, and wait for his return.

Realizing I was standing still, staring at the bed, I shook my head. Astrid gave me a sad and knowing smile before pointing to an empty shelf and saying something in French. I gathered there were no spare sheets in the closet, or they were already on the bed. I wasn’t sure which. She straightened the bed, and then we went back downstairs.

Jorge was halfway up with Madame’s valise and nodded to me. “Any news?” I asked as I passed.

“Madame is speaking with Monsieur Pascale now.”

I pulled out my phone and rounded the corner into a large charming kitchen.

There was a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

I have her. We will not be back until late. X.

Xavier.

I gave a gasp of relief as I locked eyes with Madame. She was smiling and nodding, her phone to her ear as she caught my eye.

Feeling dizzy with relief, I slumped into a chair at the large wooden kitchen table. I responded to several texts from Andrea asking for an update.

I was going to hug Dauphine so tight I’d have to be careful not to crack a bone in her tiny bony.

And he’d texted me. That had to mean he didn’t think I was involved any more, surely?

Chapter Forty-Four

Sounds permeated my consciousness, and I blinked my eyes open. A small lamp threw shadows up the stucco walls.

I’d fallen asleep where I sat in an armchair, waiting for news of Dauphine. My back was stiff. I sat up and stretched, rolling my neck. Looking over, I saw Madame had made her way from her armchair to the couch where she snored softly. After Madame had received word from Xavier that he had been reunited with Dauphine but that they were still dealing with the police, we had had a dinner of soup and bread at the kitchen table with Astrid and Jorge. Then we’d come in here to wait.

The sound of a heavy door opening reminded me that I’d been woken up by sounds. I hurriedly made my way to Madame’s side and shook her awake gently. “Madame. I think they are home.” As soon as she blinked up at me, I left her and hurried to the doorway into the entrance hall.

Evan was holding the door open and the tall figure of Xavier, his arms cradling a sleeping Dauphine, carefully negotiated through the opening.

I stifled a sob with my hand, instantly bursting into tears upon seeing her safe. Hurrying forward, eyes on her, I approached and gently touched her head, giving it a gentle kiss before stepping back.

Xavier’s face, tired and grim, gave me a single nod.

Before stepping away, I squeezed his arm where he held her, pouring every emotion I had into it since I couldn’t leap into his arms and hug him.

Then Madame was there, and