“Alors. C’est beau, non?”

I looked back at the man, trying to process what he’d said with my tired brain and high school French. Beau. It’s beautiful?

“Um, uh, oui.”

He grunted, clearly unimpressed with my conversational skills. “Vous êtes américaine?”

American?

“Oui,” I answered.

“Bienvenue.”

He shook out his paper with a welcoming smile and went back to reading. My cell phone buzzed with a text. I’d been lucky to get on the train Wi-Fi because I didn’t have an international data plan. I hadn’t had a chance before I left.

Mer: Hey, you get to Nice yet?

Still on train, I typed. Getting there in about 30. Double clicking away from messages, I opened the email application. Then I searched Meredith’s name. There was a thread to me from Meredith and Tabitha, outlining the details. A driver would pick me up at Nice Ville Train station. I would be taken to the family home in Valbonne before we boarded the yacht the day after tomorrow. Wait. A yacht?

OMG, I typed to Meredith. Tabitha didn’t mention I was babysitting on a boat. I hate boats! WTF?

Mer: She didn’t know until after you left. I know you hate boats. But do you hate yachts? French yachts?

Same thing.

Mer: Er, no. Not the same thing.

Same

Mer: Not.

Same.

Mer: Not.

Ugh!

Mer: You have to let me know if he’s as hot IRL.

Who? I typed, being deliberately obtuse.

Mer: The pope.

I do believe we went over this. And please don’t stress Tabs out.

Mer: I know, Tabs would freak. But you can look, right? NOT that I’m endorsing you lusting after your boss, but it can’t hurt to have a beautiful work environment. And I don’t mean the Mediterranean. Wait, I can never spell that. Two r’s or two t’s.

Seriously?

Mer: I know. I know. Also, maybe he’s too pretty for you? Like, too perfect, you know?

Stop. Can we stop talking about him? I don’t want you putting ideas in my head.

Mer: You haven’t Googled him yet, have you? Stop the fucking train and do it RIGHT NOW.

Mer: Girl. Do it. Unrelated, we should have gotten you laid before you left. How long has it been anyway?

Stop! I rolled my eyes.

Mer: You need to be prepared. Thank me later. Did you pack your vibrator at least?

I shook my head, biting back a laugh. A link came through text. Clearly Meredith didn’t trust me to follow her orders.

Outside the train window, the mesmerizing view of the Mediterranean was starting to disappear as the tracks wove into the outskirts of Nice. I looked back at my phone. My thumb hovered for about two seconds before descending.

The page loaded slowly, revealing Xavier Pascale.

I swallowed heavily.

Holllllly shit.