He’s my boss, I reminded myself. I dragged my gaze away. I’d have to pray the contracts were standard because I couldn’t focus on a damned word. I signed the employment contract and the non-disclosure agreement. “Here.”

He took the papers. “I must apologize,” he began. “I am normally more … smooth. Even.”

Inwardly, I chuckled at him calling himself smooth. “Even-tempered?” I supplied.

“Yes. I reacted from concern. Dauphine … she gets upset sometimes when she comes to see her mother’s things. I have been meaning to remove them …” He lifted his shoulders helplessly. “Her emotions. They are elevated sometimes.”

I licked my lips and cocked my head to the side, unsure what to say. I had so many questions about Dauphine’s mother, his late wife, and what happened. “If you think it would help in my relationship with Dauphine, perhaps you could explain the circumstances around … her mother’s passing. It’s just Dauphine mentioned—”

“What did she say?” His eyebrows snapped together, and he set the signed paperwork on the desk next to him.

“Just that her mother was sad. And maybe she thinks the sadness had something to do with her death,” I supplied.

Mr. Pascale’s eyes grew unfocused, and tension wound through the seemingly relaxed stance of his body. I could tell by the slight tick under the skin at his temple and the way his folded arms went from something to do with his hands to a tight bind he held against his chest. It was a subtle change, but unmistakable. Like a cage around his heart.

“If you don’t want to talk about her, it’s okay. I’m sorry I asked.” I backed off. “It’s not my place. I just thought, for Dauphine—”

“I’m sure you’ve read internet stories.”

“Actually, I haven’t.”

He snorted, and I tried not to feel offended. But when I held his gaze with sincerity, he seemed to accept it.

The boat’s engine cut off and the sound of a heavy chain clanged dully.

“That’s the anchor,” he said, and it was clear he wasn’t going to answer my question. Not today anyway. Then he let out a small sigh and the tension broke. “We have arrived. What will you two do today?” he asked, moving to sit on the end of the perfectly made bed and facing me.

He braced his elbows on his denim-wrapped thighs and looked at me earnestly. A lock of hair fell forward again.

Blinking, I tried to ignore the image of Xavier Pascale and a bed being in the same frame, impressed with his ability to change the subject so easily. “Actually, I was hoping for some direction. How does Dauphine usually spend the day on the boat?”