Billionaire's Runaway Princess Read Online Free PDF Page B

man was intolerable. She couldn’t marry him, not now. Not ever.
    She noticed Ryan talking to Simon and Mrs. Harrigan again. He smiled and joked with them, and then brought out a small red car from his pocket.
    “No. Mr. Ryan. You’re spoiling him.”
    He winked. “No, I’m not. Simon isn’t spoiled at all, are you.”
    “But the other children, Mr. Ryan.”
    “Not a problem,” he said. “Peggy,” he called.
    Peggy came around the corner holding some bags. “You could help, you know.”
    Ryan smiled and took one of the bags, while Peggy trailed him with other. Out of the bag came different things: Small toys, or pencils and notebooks, or books. He seemed to have something specific for each child. Marisol watched Peggy follow him. They were both blonde and attractive. Marisol sighed. Of course, Ryan Kelley would be married, and of course, to someone who matched him perfectly.
    “Sister Margaret,” snapped the nun in the black habit.
    Peggy turned around.
    “What have I said—”
    “Don’t blame her, Sister Mary Agnes. I brought them,” said Ryan. “Please. A little something to brighten their day can’t be bad.”
    A nun? Peggy Kelley was a nun? Then she couldn’t be married to Ryan.
    “It is when they come to me expecting the same thing.”
    “Kids, don’t go to Sister Mary Agnes for toys, okay?”
    “Yes, Mr. Ryan,” they said in unison.
    He turned around and held out his hands. “See, no problem.”
    “At least it’sn’t ice cream,” muttered the nun, but then she smiled evilly at Ryan. “Not this time.”
    “Can we have ice cream?” one child said.
    “Shush,” said her mother. “No ice cream. Not today.”
    “Oh, please,” said the child.
    Ryan shook his finger at the nun. “See what you did? This is your fault.”
    Sister Mary Agnes laughed and walked back into the kitchen.
    “Well, I guess the next time I come, I’ll have to bring ice cream,” said Ryan.
    “Yay!” the children cheered.
    “Now, who has homework?”
    A few children raised their hands, and Ryan went to them while the adults cleared the tables. Some of the adults without children left quietly. Next to Marisol, a teenaged girl had her face squinting in frustration.
    “Homework?”
    “Yeah,” said the girl cautiously. She pulled her book back as if suspicious of what Marisol wanted from her.
    Marisol managed to peek at the girl’s book.
    “French?”
    “Yeah. It’s a bitch. I can’t get it.”
    “What are you trying to do?”
    “I have to read this passage and translate it into English.”
    “I remember when I learned English, I had to do the same thing.”
    “You had to learn English?”
    “Yes. It is a very difficult language. I worked hard to learn it.”
    “Where are you from?”
    “France,” said Marisol. It was just easier saying that than explaining where Dalyasia was.
    “Oh, then you can read it and tell me what to write.”
    “I could,” said Marisol. “But that won’t help you learn French. Read what is there out loud and then tell me what you think it means.”
    Marisol worked with the girl, whose name she found out was Tolly. She found the girl did understand quite a bit of French. Tolly had problems in understanding why certain words were masculine and others feminine. As the seventeen verb forms used to give Marisol headaches when she studied them academically, she related to the girl’s problems.
    “Just ignore that the word is masculine or feminine. Just learn the word. It’s a holdover from Latin, the root language of French, where each word had a masculine and feminine form. It’s just in French for most words one or the other gender was dropped.”
    Marisol worked with Tolly and helped her to understand the passage. Soon Tolly was working on the translation.
    Sister Mary Agnes came back into the room.
    “Attention, everyone. For those with yellow tickets, you can go to the residence now. Those with red tickets, I’ll pull the drawing for the remaining beds.”
    Sister