Back Broken French
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Full Page Image
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-One
  25. Chapter Twenty-Two
  26. Chapter Twenty-Three
  27. Chapter Twenty-Four
  28. Chapter Twenty-Five
  29. Chapter Twenty-Six
  30. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-One
  35. Chapter Thirty-Two
  36. Chapter Thirty-Three
  37. Chapter Thirty-Four
  38. Chapter Thirty-Five
  39. Chapter Thirty-Six
  40. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-One
  45. Chapter Forty-Two
  46. Chapter Forty-Three
  47. Chapter Forty-Four
  48. Chapter Forty-Five
  49. Chapter Forty-Six
  50. Chapter Forty-Seven
  51. Chapter Forty-Eight
  52. Chapter Forty-Nine
  53. Chapter Fifty
  54. Chapter Fifty-One
  55. Chapter Fifty-Two
  56. Chapter Fifty-Three
  57. Chapter Fifty-Four
  58. NEXT
  59. EXCERPT STOLEN ENGLISH
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. ALSO BY TASHA BOYD
  62. About the Author

Also, beyond the fact that I had no time nor willingness for distractions, it was also reminiscent of my father lusting after my nannies growing up. Except my father acted on those impulses. I blew out an annoyed breath to cover my cringe, trying to get my head away from her and back into business. It would be fine. She was just an attractive woman. I’d spent time with plenty of those. No big deal. I’d give it a couple of weeks. I focused in front of me. “The reports for the meeting look good. I’m ready.” I shuffled the pages needlessly. I knew the results were solid. I didn’t need to re-read the reports this morning to know.

“Good. I’d like my goose to keep fattening. I’m not ready for the foie gras just yet.”

“Such a strange expression.” Every year, instead of a bonus, I gifted Evan a small amount of stock in my company. It had been his idea, and he was building up a nice retirement. It was a symbiotic relationship—his skin in the game if you will. He protected me since I was, literally, his investment.

“Sometimes, I like to fantasize you protect me because I’m your friend and not because I’m making you rich,” I said.

“That’s cute,” he deadpanned. “Okay, also on your agenda. Your father sent another request to meet for this bridge project he wants you to look at.”

My stomach tightened. “Invest in, you mean. I was hoping he wasn’t pushing that.”

“Pas du tout. He’s anxious to share some numbers with you.”

“He’s convinced that now we have our hand in some boutique hotel projects I’d like to get into infrastructure too.” Newsflash, I didn’t. Save the government building contracts for the unscrupulous. There was practically no way to avoid the systemic corruption, and I wanted no part in it.

“He’s setting up a lunch,” Evan went on while I brooded at how my father couldn’t ever take no for an answer. “Next week. Marie-Louise put it on your schedule. She just put a bug in my ear to ask if you’d seen it.”

My poor long-suffering assistant who had to contact Evan because I was playing a game of avoidance with my own father.