My Billionaire Stepbrother Read Online Free

steaming scrambled eggs,
piping hot coffee, and a crystal glass filled with sparkling water. The dishes
are all fine china. The napkin is silky pressed linen. The food all smells incredible.
    Wow.
    “The Seychelles?” I whisper,
connecting the name to meaning in my brain. “You mean where Prince William and Princess
Kate had their honeymoon?”
    How do I even know that? I don’t
read tabloids. But I guess everybody, including a boring dead-serious,
stick-in-the-mud student like me knows at least something about the world’s
most romantic, glamorous couple. Not that I’ve at all fantasized about having
their life or anything – the clothes and the titles and the castles and the
traveling…nope, doesn’t affect me or make me sigh with secret longing.
    Nope, not at all.
    “That’s right, it’s the same island,”
the stewardess says with a wink. “The royal couple stayed at the very same
Wilde Hospitality Corp resort where you are going. Oops!”
    Her eyes widen guiltily, her hand
flying to cover her mouth.
    “I’m terribly sorry! I wasn’t
supposed to spoil the surprise.”
    But she leans in conspiratorially,
her voice dropping to a whisper.
    “I think I overheard Mademoiselle
Butler say that you’ll be staying in the very same bungalow where the Prince
and Princess honeymooned. You’re to receive the VIP treatment, just like royalty!
It’s supposed to be the most beautiful spot on North Island: it faces the
sunset with a private beach, a private forest, glass walls on every side so you
can see the jungle, and the most gorgeous amenities. There’s an original
Matisse in every room. You’ll even have your own clear Jacuzzi submerged at sea
level on a terrace that’s built out into the water, so you can see the fish
swimming underneath you. I love the water here – at this latitude the Indian
Ocean is so clean and warm, better than the Caribbean. It’s like taking a
relaxing bath every time you dip in. You’ll have a marvelous time, I am sure. Enjoy
your breakfast.”
    My mouth has literally fallen open.
    “Thank you,” is all I can manage as
she walks away, leaving me in bed in a private jet with breakfast on a silver
tray on my way to the royal family’s honeymoon bungalow with my original
Matisse in every room.
    What even is my life right now?
    Yesterday I ate a meal off the
dollar menu at McDonalds because all I could find in my couch was a handful of
quarters.
    Are they sure they picked up the
right girl at the airport?
    How the heck does my drifter Dad
factor in with all of this?
    At least now the butterflies in my
stomach are less about fearing for my Dad’s safety and more about fearing for
my own sanity. What if I am imagining all of this? It doesn’t seem possible
that all of this is real, that all of this is happening to me.
    Though actually, I don’t even know
what is happening. Maybe it is secretly terrible. Maybe the rug will be pulled
out from under me at any second, the exotic royal fantasy punctured.
    I am too nervous to eat, so I put
the breakfast tray to the side and roll over to stare out the window.
    The plane is circling an island,
which juts out of the sea like an emerald mountain rimmed with topaz shores. White-hot
sand blends from the beach into the water, blurring the lines between land and
sea. The aquamarine water around the shore is almost violently bright, glowing
and cheerful until it drops into a deep mysterious sapphire color that looks exactly
like the night sky.
    I’ve never been anywhere tropical
before, and I can’t believe how it lives up exactly to my wildest imagination.
There are sailboats dotting the shores around the North Island, and I can see
smaller and larger islands dotting the horizon almost every direction I look.
    It’s breathtakingly beautiful. It’s
every tropical fantasy I have ever had, and more.
    And I’m about to land in a tropical
island paradise, with nothing to wear but a sweater and jeans.
    Would have been nice to have a
heads-up Dad