Billionaire on Board Read Online Free

suit."
    "I'll have to outshine the bridegroom, won't I?" 
    Well. He'd have no difficulty whatsoever doing that. None at all.
     
    Something buzzed. 
    He fumbled in his jacket and brought out a smart phone. 
    "How droll…" His eyes flashed. He got up and walked over to the window. "Hola hermana!"
    Spanish. Hello Sister.
     
    All right, the surname had suggested something of the sort, hadn't it? Yet I had no idea about his ancestry. Why would I? I had never much cared about his sister. Who cares about people in the lower grades?
     
    Having very sharp ears I could hear some scraps of what she said, something about a party and Sardinia, but I was not sure.
    Then he spoke.
    I will translate directly and fill in what I could overhear from her side too.
     
    - Guess who I just met?
    - … no idea…
    - Your old schoolmate Poppy Jude Jansen.
    - … German… … … with the French tutor?
    - Haha, really? 
    - … you sleeping with her?
    - Not at the moment. How's our mother?
     
    My blood was boiling. 
    Who did he think he was? 
    Only because I had chosen his name for my imaginary boyfriend? Who had by no means looked like him? 
    Okay, that was untruthful. My fantasy man had looked very much like him. 
     
    He briefly told her something about a guy called Jonathan breaking his leg and that because of it he was forced to stay in Hamburg until monday. Then it was good bye.
     
    He turned back to me. "Did you really get caught with the French teacher?"
    " Quien dice eso, tu hermana ?" My anger at his macho remark about not sleeping with me at the moment had returned some of my self-assurance.
    "Ah, Spanish. Occupational hazard, I guess, foreign languages."
    "I'm surprised Laetitia actually noticed, I thought she was busy giving blow jobs to the local rugby team for cigarettes and weed."
    He stared at me, eyes wide open. "I'm sorry?"
    "It was an open secret."
    He shook his head and sat down again. "The British private school education never fails to amaze me."
    "It's highly informative by all means." 
    "So," his cool was back. "You got caught sleeping with the French teacher while my sister was— was— uh— "
    "— fellating the rugby team?" I helped. 
    He nodded. "Wow. That's a good word. Err—yes,  while my sister was busy, uhm, fellating the rugby team."
    "No, we only got caught watching French porn."
    "French porn should certainly be in the curriculum of any girls' school. It would make the world a better place."
    I shrugged. 
    He shook his head. "My baby sister… with the rugby team. For dope! I can't believe it."
    "Don't shoot the messenger."
    "So did you fellate the teacher, too? He taught you French after all, didn't he?"
    I rolled my eyes. "Very funny. I think we need not go deeper into this."
    He was quiet for a moment, watching me. It made me want to squirm but I kept myself under control. Hardly.
     
    "Now," he suddenly said, "if we are to pose as lovers, we should certainly know a little bit about one another, don't you agree? You work as a tour guide, you play the cello. That's all I know so far. You speak Spanish."
    "French, Italian."
    "Mandarin? Swahili?"
    "No."
    "Okay. Do you have a degree?"
    "M.A. in history."
    "School?"
    "Cambridge."
    "Hear, hear, so why the tour guiding?"
    "It's my mother's business, actually. It's good money and I am quite independent. It took me some time to write my thesis but now I'm in the final throws."
    "Ph.d.?
    I nodded.
    "How old are you?" he asked, obviously surprised.
    "Twenty-six. Twenty-seven in June."
    "You can't be. My sister's twenty-seven and she was a year below you, she just told me."
    I didn't say anything.
    "Are you a wunderkind or something?"
    "No, not really, I just come from a household of academics."
    He crossed his arms. "Do you have any hobbies?"
    "Riding, skiing, yoga..."
    "Sounds as if you could be my girlfriend. I play polo."
    "Oh, really…"
    "Did you guess?"
    "Yes."
    "How?"
    "Well, you're a half English, half South-American millionaire, what else would