Josie. She only speaks English. She’s American. And she draws amazing buildings. And she’s teaching me how. And she’s really nice. She swims with me any time I want. And I think Papa doesn’t like her. But I like her. Please tell him she has to stay.”
“Dauphine,” I snapped, my voice coming out like a strangled bark. How had my daughter picked up on my discomfort? “Hush.”
My father’s eyes homed in on Josie as he took her offered hand. “Enchanté,” he greeted and brought her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the back of it. “I’m Etienne Pascale.”
Josie darted a glance at me before smiling wanly at my father and extricating her hand.
“Ahh,” another voice boomed. We turned to the large and swarthy Italian heading our way. I recognized the sleazebag friend of my father’s. Alfredo Morosto. He’d been involved in so many shady deals, I was sure my company share price would drop ten percent on Monday simply because we were in the same restaurant. Now it seemed he was having lunch with us.
Great.
Chapter Twenty-One
JOSIE
The white sand beach and cool, clear, aquamarine water made the bay perfect for a beach club. Evan took Mister P, Dauphine, and me from the boat to a jetty where we made our way onto the beach. My first few steps on solid land made me feel like dancing.
“You okay?” Evan asked.
Xavier whipped around to look in my direction.
I couldn’t see his eyes through his sunglasses. “Forgot what firm ground feels like,” I said, probably reminding him how I felt about boats in general. “I’m fine.”
His mouth tightened and I raised my eyebrows in question, then lowered my sunglasses over my own eyes.
Dauphine took my hand, and I smiled down at her, and we all continued our walk. Attendants in white linen shorts and turquoise shirts ran between groups of loungers, setting up umbrellas and bringing ice buckets of champagne and rosé and bowls of cut fruit on ice. There was a little beach bar made of driftwood and a boardwalk we followed through some low, thick vegetation until it opened up into a large outdoor restaurant hidden behind the dunes, shaded under driftwood and canvas awnings. White painted chairs and tables with blue tablecloths were packed into any available inch with their legs in the sand. Waiters hurried to and fro, squeezing in and around the occupied tables.
The sound of clinking glass, laughter, and popping corks made it seem like one big party. So, this was how the one percent did the beach? I chuckled to myself, remembering the way Tabs, Mer, and I always had to take turns lugging the cooler and our plastic chairs from where we could find parking, sweat dripping into our eyes, all the way to the boardwalk beach access on Sullivan’s Island or Folly Beach. Which reminded me, I needed to call them soon.
Dauphine and I followed her father as he made his way to the front of the restaurant and greeted a tall maitre d’ who kissed Mr. Pascale on both cheeks and ruffled his hair. I gathered he’d known him for a long time, and it made me smile to see my boss treated like a little boy.
I felt eyes on us, in a sort of who’s who way. It gave me a weird, uncomfortable feeling, reminiscent of the days following my stepfather’s arrest. Glancing around in my sunglasses, I almost did a double take as I recognized a famous model who’d been big in the nineties and at a separate table the ex-governor of California who had also been a movie star at one point. My heart rate sped up. Meredith and Tabs would freak out. God, I missed them. Meredith, especially, would get off on star spotting.
Not that anyone cared who I was, but I suddenly felt extremely exposed being in such a high-profile place. My cheeks burned and I felt vaguely nauseous. Nothing like being given the once over and summarily discarded to remind one of how insignificant one’s life could be perceived. Even though it brought a feeling of relief. The eyes definitely followed Xavier Pascale though.
The maitre d’ made a quick fuss over Dauphine, and then pointed us to a table in a corner of the restaurant under the twisty branch of a tamarisk tree.
Before we could sit, we were joined by an older man I knew instantly must be Xavier’s father.
He had the same thick cowlick at his forehead, though his was dark gray, and his hair