Kisses Like Rain (Corsican Crime Lord #4) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Corsican Crime Lord Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
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I lift my chin. “That won’t be necessary. The whole class can hear what I have to say.”

Roch reaches for my arm, but before he can grab me, I open the door and go inside. The room goes quiet. Roch enters and stops next to me, his hands balled at his sides. The principal hovers in the doorframe. Johan’s jaw goes slack.

“Who of you speaks perfect English?” I ask.

No one raises a hand.

“I guess then you’re all bound to make mistakes. Can I tell you a secret? My French is a little rusty. I took it as an extra language for two years at school, but that was a long time ago. Does that make me stupid?”

They look at each other as if I asked them a trick question.

“I don’t speak Italian or Corsu either,” I say.

They stare at me.

“Does that make me stupid?”

Everyone except for the girl with the tweed jacket shake their heads.

“Seeing that no one is ever too old to learn, I wonder if the principal will let me sit in for this class.” I look at her. “I won’t mind brushing up on my English vocabulary too.”

A cheer breaks out among the pupils. I bet they never had an adult attending their class.

The principal shifts her weight, asking Roch through clenched teeth, “What is she up to?”

“Please, Mrs. Nieddo,” the kids chant. “Let her stay.”

A chorus of, “Let her stay!” follows.

The principal’s forehead creases. She lifts a hand and says with impatience, “Silence.”

“Please, Mrs. Nieddo! Please let her stay!”

She heaves a frustrated sigh. “Oh, all right.” Raising a finger, she adds, “But only this once. As an exception.”

I smile sweetly at Roch, who resembles a fuming dragon. “Thank you.”

“Get on with it then,” the principal says, pulling her back straight as she leaves.

I sit down in a vacant chair next to Johan. He shifts his seat an inch away, glowering at the book that lies open in front of him.

“Here,” a girl on the left whispers, handing me a piece of paper and a pencil with a smile. “You can borrow mine.”

Roch walks with stilted steps to the front and picks up the textbook on his desk. The lesson resumes in a much calmer fashion with the children stealing curious glances at me.

When the bell rings to announce the end of the class, excited chatter erupts as the kids pack away their books. I return the pencil to my neighbor and thank her for her kindness. Johan is taking his time to gather his stationery, waiting for everyone to file past. The classroom is almost empty when he finally gets to his feet. Only the girl in the tweed jacket and three others who sat in the back are left.

I stand when the rude girl is about to pass next to us. Giving her a stern look, I say, “Don’t speak about Johan like that again, or I’ll have a word with your parents.”

She scurries around me, not looking back as she leaves the room.

Johan swings his bag over his shoulder. I’ve taken two steps toward Roch’s desk when he speaks. “Sabella?”

I stop and turn to look at him.

“Thank you,” he says with a crooked smile before charging past me and through the door.

Roch purses his lips and gives me his back to wipe the blackboard clean. He only faces me again when the last kid has cleared the room.

I raise a brow. “Teaching, huh?”

“I was a teacher before I worked for your husband.”

“Well, knock me down with a feather.”

“What?” He sounds offended. “What’s wrong with being a teacher?”

“Nothing.” I grin. “You just don’t fit the profile.”

He scoffs. “I happen to like it.”

“Why did you quit?”

“Money,” he says matter-of-factly.

“And now?”

“The pay is way less than the money I earned babysitting your sorry ass, but I’m thinking of settling down.”

I can’t resist teasing him. “Does someone have a girlfriend in town?”

His face turns tomato red.

“Oh my God.” I laugh. “You’ve really got it bad.”

He snorts and straightens his books.

“I’m happy for you.” When he says nothing, I continue, “I mean it.”

“Get out of my classroom.” He reshuffles the papers on his desk without looking at me. “I have a class to teach, and I’m not doing it with another disruption. You caused enough drama for one day.”

Fine. My behavior was impulsive, but I couldn’t stand by and let those nasty insults slide. Hearing that girl humiliating Johan stirred an intense feeling of injustice inside me. It reminded me too much of the gifted but poor Isaac who was an outcast in our school. Johan deserves someone to stand up for him.

“I’m sorry for disrupting your class,” I say, making my way to the door.

I’m about to step over the threshold when he says, “What you did for Johan, that was good.”

I smile to myself as I let that sink in before leaving.


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