“Anything else you need from your desk?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak any more. Holy shit. What had I just done?

“Well, if there is, I’ll ask Barbara to pack it up.” He gestured to the door. “Bye, Josie. Good luck.”

I took a breath and lifted my chin. I’d done the only thing I could do. I was a damn good architect. And if they didn’t see it, someone else would. I had contacts. I had some meager savings and could temporarily defer my loan payments. I could get a reference from any number of previous clients and Mr. Donovan. I couldn’t protect East Bay Street, but at least I had my pride. Feeling only a fraction of a percent better after my rationalizing, I turned to the door, then stopped. “Mr. Tate?”

He looked up as he rounded his desk, a placid look on his face like the last ten minutes hadn’t even phased him. “Yes?”

“Fuck you very much,” I said sweetly and spun on my heel and walked out, putting an extra sway in my step.

Chapter Three

XAVIER

Valbonne, Provence, France

The afternoon sun slanted across the wooden farm table, bleached and worn from decades of use on the sunny patio. The scent of lavender from the fields in the valley wafted across the lawn, mingling with honeysuckle.

“Can I get you anything before I leave?” The gruff voice of Martine, our longtime housekeeper and sometime child minder, roused me from where I’d been in a semi-meditative state after my pre-lunch laps in the pool.

I glanced to the spread of lunch waiting for my daughter to join me. In years past, when my wife was alive, this table had been filled with friends, acquaintances, and extended family almost every week. These days it was a party if Evan, my bodyguard and best friend, joined us.

“Non, merci,” I thanked her. “Just send Dauphine down when she’s changed out of her swimsuit.” A wet towel was still on the chair next to me from where Dauphine had abandoned it. She’d spent the morning in the pool begging me to join her while I took calls and tried to organize childcare. I adored spending time with her, but it was impossible when she was out of school for the summer and I still had a business to run. Of course, in a month or so business would be slower. It was almost August, and practically everyone would be on vacation for les grandes vacances. But for now it would be tricky to manage without help.

“Any luck?” Martine pressed, glancing down at my laptop. “I’m sorry I have to leave before you found a replacement nanny.”

“I have a call with the American agency this afternoon. Hopefully they’ll have someone else for us.”

“Keep me informed. I can try to shorten my trip if necessary.”