Wi-Fi code is in the drawer,” she said. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll buzz you when Mr. P is ready for you.”
With a smile, she headed out, and as soon as she clicked the door closed, I went to the window and figured out how to slip it open. Inhaling the briny and oily air of the port, I sucked it in deeply through the four-inch gap. I’d never had textbook claustrophobia, and I was sure it wouldn’t be crippling, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t going to need to have a window or door cracked with the promise of fresh air. I’d have to ask what the rules were about keeping the windows open. Last thing I needed was for sea water to lap in with a big wave. I bent my neck to glance down and saw my cabin window was pretty close to the greenish and oil-swirled surface of the water. That wasn’t creepy.
My phone buzzed from somewhere, and I dug around in my purse.
Meredith.
Instead of texting, I opened my settings and found the Wi-Fi, and then dialed her number through a Wi-Fi calling app.
She answered on the third ring.
“Jos, you made it?”
“I did. I’m on the boat. I say boat, but a better descriptor would be cruise ship.”
“Oh my God. Is it lush? I bet it’s amazing. Do they have a crew? Of course they do.”
I smiled. “They do.”
“I’m imagining you on the cast of Below Deck. Is there a mad genius chef?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“And are the deck hands cute?”
I thought of Evan. “Yes, the one I’ve met is. His name is Evan and no, before you ask, he’s not my type.” I’d felt nothing in the way of attraction to Evan. Certainly not in the wake of the gut punch attraction I’d felt to the one person I shouldn’t even look at like that—my new boss. “God.” I flopped back on the bed. “So much has happened in two days. I can’t believe I’m on the other side of the Atlantic. How’s my mom? Did you call her?” I’d asked Meredith and Tabs to check in with her periodically. I hated that I’d had to leave in such a hurry. She’d been shocked when I told her I quit. Even after I explained why, she didn’t seem to understand the choice I’d made. I assured her my trip was just temporary—a paid gig while I found another job and got my career back on track, but all I could see on her face was shock and disappointment. I hadn’t even had the heart to tell her how Tate had mentioned my stepfather, Nicolas.
“Your mom is fine. I called her last night, and I explained everything in more detail. Told her you were helping Tabitha out.”
“She comes from a different generation. Women didn’t quit over handsy bosses or lack of career growth in her day. She thinks I’m a snowflake.”
“No, she doesn’t. She’s just a mom worried about her daughter being on the other side of the world.”
I cringed. “Was this a good idea?”
“Stop it, Josie. Yes. It was a good idea. The fricking best idea any of us have had, period. You’re a lucky bitch, you know that?”
“You’re right. If I’m a snowflake about anything, it’s that I’m currently sitting on a yacht in the south of France with a hot, widowed billionaire and complaining about it.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.”
“On that note, you realize he’s a complete paparazzi magnet? What if someone is curious enough about the new nanny to dig up my family history? That would kill my mom, if things came to light again.”
“You’re out of context,” she soothed. “In another country. And it happened so long ago. There’s no way anyone will recognize you. Also, you’re essentially the help. No one pays the help any attention. You’re practically invisible.”
I thought of Monsieur Pascale’s intense scrutiny when he met me and didn’t feel like I was invisible to him at all. More like someone he disapproved of. And he didn’t even know me.
“And even if they did,” Meredith went on, “would any French people care about an obscure financial crime in Charleston? No offense.”
I didn’t have the energy to correct her that my stepfather’s clients weren’t limited to America. “I don’t think my new boss likes me,” I said, trying to change the subject. “I felt like a microbe under a microscope. Do I not look like a normal nanny?” I sat up.