he answered my unspoken question. “But we need to go. Now. That cannot happen again.” His tone sounded shocked. Awestruck. Horrified.
No kidding. “I didn’t start it,” I said, sounding like a petulant child. I was shaken to my core. In literally every way.
He grabbed my elbow and we started toward the stairs. “The fuck you didn’t with that dress.
“Are you kidding me, right now?” I wrenched my arm free.
He turned to me, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Please,” he said. “Not here. I’m sorry. That was … inappropriate. I can’t think. I was wrong. Can we go?”
We glared at each other.
I folded my arms. “I swear to God, Pascale.”
“Xavier.”
I ignored him correcting me. “We better be having a normal conversation when we get back to the boat. And no telling me to fuck off again in French.”
His brows knitted in confusion. “I didn’t tell you to fuck off. When—?”
“You did! That night on the top deck. We were talking, and then you told me something in French that meant—”
He stepped right up into my space, his voice dropping. “I said I wanted to fuck you.” He cocked his head. “Not that I wanted you to fuck off. A very important difference.”
What was left of my breath was sucked right out of my chest.
He inclined his head at whatever he saw on my face. A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead. “And, yes, I was mad about it. At myself. Not you. And yes, it’s crude. But it’s true. I can’t work. I can’t sleep. I can’t fucking think straight with you around. You are destroying me. And I cannot let that happen. Not for me. Not for Dauphine. That’s why I sent that email. Now, unless you want a picture of us arguing in a nightclub splashed over Voici or Stars tomorrow morning, I suggest we get out of here.”
The mention of the tabloids was like a bucket of ice water. There was no way I wanted to invite that kind of media scrutiny into their lives. Or mine. I snapped my jaw tight, the words he’d said bulleting around my brain, causing maximum damage.
“You leave first,” he went on. “I will be a few minutes behind you. Head straight for the quay. Don’t stop to talk to anyone.”
I nodded. I could do that.
“I’ll have Evan meet you at the gate. It has a code.” He leaned forward and whispered the number in my ear.
There was no way to remember a gate code for fuck’s sake. I hardly knew my own name. I brushed past him. This was all too much. And his words were too much.
“Joséphine,” he said.
I turned back.
“You look beautiful,” he said. His eyes swept over my dress and back to my face. “You are beautiful. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
The night outside felt different. I felt eyes crawling over me, the breeze like pin pricks on my skin, the sounds jarring. My flip flops smacked on the cobblestones, and I almost fell. I moved to the flatter concrete sidewalks where available, dodging people, and then crossed to the quayside. I followed what Andrea and the guys had done when we passed the security gate and waved like I knew where I was going. They weren’t concerned about pedestrians since all the jetties where the mega yachts were had coded gates. Oh shit. I couldn’t remember which one it was. The third or fourth jetty? Or was it the fifth one?
Now, if only I could go back and erase the last twenty minutes. I’d known my life would change before I’d gone up the stairs to him at the nightclub, but I hadn’t been prepared for this. For him. To discover that he was struggling with his attraction to me as much as I was to him. My brain could barely compute. And I hadn’t been prepared for the way I’d fallen apart for him, leaving me feeling like roadkill. I said a prayer that it had been far too dark for anyone to have gotten a clear photo or video. My heart climbed up my throat with nerves and shame.
“Josie.” Evan’s voice, amplified by the concrete and water reached me right as I was starting to sweat with panic. “You okay?” he asked as I reached the gate where he stood. He opened it before I had to try and remember the code.
“Fine,” I said.
“I thought you guys would stay out for a while, have