“I met Arriette then,” he said, and I held my breath. “We were the wild ones. After university we got back together. Then, I grew up. It took me a long time to realize she never would. Her demons were too deep. I thought marriage would help tame her. It did not. I thought having a child would help her. Help us. But it seemed … it seemed to make it worse. Or perhaps it was me who made her worse. I don’t know. The more I tried to save her, the deeper she went—”

His words stopped abruptly. And I felt inexplicably guilty as he seemed to realize how much he was sharing. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth to say something. I didn’t know what. Reassurance?

“You must go.” Monsieur Pascale’s sudden rough bark made me jump, and my eyes snapped open.

His eyes were dark and his glass empty. Deliberately he set it down on the deck to his side.

I gave a small frown. “Why? I’m not—”

“Parce que je veux te baiser. Parce que je veux que tu me fasses oublier.”

“What does that mean?”

His face hardened. “It means you need to get the fuck downstairs.”

My mouth dropped open, heat flooding my chest and face. I was pretty sure that wasn’t what he’d said. But if that was the more palatable version, I felt even more like shit.

“Go,” he growled.

“Fine.” Pushing off the railing toward the stairs, my heart pounded. “Asshole.” I couldn’t help hissing the word under my breath as I started down the steps.

He gave a bitter laugh, letting me know he’d heard me. “It’s best to remember that.”

I hadn’t meant him to really hear me. But what had just happened? One minute he was opening up, the next he was snarling. Why had I agreed to this job, again?

Calming my breathing, I counted to ten as I went downstairs. He didn’t have to be so damned rude.

Although, I’d blundered in on a really raw and private moment he was having. I supposed he was snapping at me like a wounded dog would. Not meaning to inflict pain, but not being able to see past his own. Perhaps he’d been about to lose it and hadn’t wanted me to see. Or was suddenly embarrassed at realizing how much he was sharing—vulnerability making him attack.

I made it the last few steps toward my cabin as I became sure he’d simply been protecting himself.

I was still offended.

But from his point of view … I sighed, knowing I’d apologize tomorrow. I’d make sure he knew his secrets were safe with me.

Or was it better to pretend it hadn’t happened?

Ugh.