Billionaire Novelist 4 : Every Romance is a Revenge Fantasy(21)

I set my fork down. "Wow. Tragedy and poopie diapers. You sure know how to romance a girl."

He leaned back, laughing, and stuck his hands in his pockets. "You know, I meant everything I said in the dedication. You did break me. I was a wreck after you left Montreal, but I think I'm in a better place now." His gaze went to my neck. "I'm so glad you wore the necklace. It looks as perfect as I imagined." He leaned across the table and reached out to touch the necklace. As I looked down, he booped me on the tip of my nose.

I leaned back from the table. "Did you just boop me?"

He shrugged. "I booped you. Couldn't help myself."

"Story of your life. That should be the title of your memoir. Couldn't Help Myself."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I apologize."

The waiter came by to take away our plates and bring us small pots of fresh tea.

After he'd left, Smith repeated himself, "I truly am sorry."

"For smashing the lamp and scaring the crap out of me? You should be. Whatever. I guess I forgive you. Sounded like you had a lot of baggage going on with your ex-wife. Not my business."

"After we separated, she spent some time in a mental health facility. I see what you're thinking, and just stop right there. I did not drive her to madness. She had serious issues since before I even met her." He poured some tea into his cup and stared into the swirling liquid. "She was my first love, though. We started an affair together when I was eighteen, and I wasn't smart enough to see the relationship was bad for me."

"I think I can relate."

He looked up, catching me in his powerful gaze. "Tori, I don't want to be anything to you if it's not going to bring you joy. The worst thing I can imagine myself doing is hurting you, and I'll stay away if that's what you wish, but you'll have to help me by … " His gaze wandered down from my eyes to my neck and my chest. "Not being so damn ravishing. Especially if you're going to come to my cabin in two months to help me type the next novel." 

"I don't understand. You flew me here to Switzerland to ask me to type for you?"

"And more," he said, stretching both his hands across the table toward me.

I looked down at the glint of gold.

A wedding band.

On his ring finger.

Smith was married.

And he wanted me to …  what? Type? Be his mistress?

I pushed my chair back so I was out of his reach. "Smith Wittingham, you are … " I went through the mental list of bad names I usually called him, but none of them were bad enough. "You are just THE WORST!"

People were staring, of course, so I got up and stomped out of the restaurant. The elevators were to the left, but I turned to the right, toward the doors.

I shoved the doors open with a clatter and ran outside. The car-less village sparkled in the snow all around me, and I wanted to scream my outrage and hear it echo through the Alps, but I didn't want to disturb all the nice people who lived in the village, so I just started running.

Smith came after me, yelling, "Tori, wait!"

All the words I didn't say back in the restaurant came to me. I kept running, and yelling at him, letting everything out. The heel on one of my shoes broke, which made me even more angry.

He caught up to me easily, hobbled as I was, and he caught me in his arms. "Wait, I need to say something to you," he said.

"Well, just say it. Blah-blah, I broke you, but now you're fine and thank-you-very-much Tori, and why don't you f**k off and die, you awful son-of-a-"

He kissed me. I slapped him. He kissed me again, this time getting a better grip on my hands so I couldn't beat him senseless.

"This is my father's wedding ring," he said.

Gasping for breath after the running and the kissing, I shot daggers at him with my eyes. "Like I care it's a family heirloom."

"I'm so sorry," he said. "It was a mistake. I had his ring in my pocket in the restaurant, and I was so nervous about talking to you, I wasn't paying attention, and I slipped it on."

I couldn't recall if it had been snowing already when I ran out the door, but it was definitely snowing now, fat snowflakes landing on both of our eyelashes and wetting our cheeks.

"You're not married?"

"God, no!" He let go of my wrists. "I mean, no. I'm not. My parents are here to renew their vows. That's the whole reason for this trip. They've gone through a rough patch over the years, but I think they're going to be okay now."

"And they're renewing their vows?"

"That's what I said. And I would have told you in the restaurant, if you'd asked about the ring, but apparently …  I can't take you anywhere fancy, can I?" He grinned, flakes of snow in his eyebrows.