Page 26 of My Forbidden Billionaire

Josephine

My heart quickens. She wants to see me. I respond, trying my best to keep my excitement contained.

Absolutely, Josephine. Clem is on one of the teams, so I’ve been planning to come regardless. I’m assuming you’ll be there? If so, I have a whole new reason to come.

Jacob

I hit send, and stare at the screen. Was that too forward? I certainly hope not. Though, I suppose I could be misreading her messages ... It’s hard to tell the tone over email sometimes. Minutes feel like hours as I wait for her reply.

I’ll be there. I look forward to seeing you.

Jo

My heart soars as I read her message. I can’t believe it. She’s looking forward to seeing me. I feel like a teenager again as I eagerly type my response.

Perhaps I shouldn’t confess this, but I’m counting down the minutes.

Jacob

I hit send and close my laptop, feeling content. It’s a small step, but it’s progress.

I can’t wait to see what the future holds.

Chapter Ten

Jacob

“Sir, Miss, please allow me to take you to your seats.”

“I like it when they call me ‘Miss,’” Clem says with a giggle.

She’s behaving extra fancy tonight, no doubt to match the posh energy she is receiving from the staff. We’re having our weekly father-daughter dinner at Clemence, our favorite French restaurant. Clem picks it every single time, partly because it reminds her of a lovely vacation we spent in France, and partly because it sounds a little like her own name. She is ten, after all.

I open my menu and watch, amused, as Clem opens her own. It’s so large that she completely disappears behind it. She can barely handle holding it with her small hands, but I know that she doesn’t want any help from me.

That would absolutely embarrass her.

My daughter is now entering that part of her life in which she is embarrassed by my help. I can’t help but feel a little saddened by this. I’ve always adored taking care of her—from braiding her hair to holding her hand as she skates, to brushing her teeth and tying her shoelaces.

Being a single parent has its unique challenges, but it’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done.

I just wish time would slow down sometimes.

“What are you having, Clem?” I ask and watch her tiny face appear from behind the vastness of the menu.

“Bouillabaisse with rouille,” she replies in a perfect French accent. She had a French nanny until about a year ago, when she decided to move back to France. Clem manages to pick up things like this, including the French language and its melody. It makes me look at her in awe.

“That sounds absolutely perfect. I think I’ll have the same.”

“No, no. You have to get something different and then we’ll swap,” she complains and points the tiniest finger known to mankind at me.

“Alright.” I smile. “Whatever you want, princess. Then I will have the … Sole Meunière with caviar and white asparagus.”

“Sounds amazing,” she replies, still trying her hardest to be elegant.

A waitress in a red dress arrives to take our order. I’ve never seen her before, so she must be a new employee.

“Good evening, sir. What can I get for you tonight?”

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