Billionaire Novelist 3 : The Wicked Redhead and the Billionaire Novelist(28)

To pass the time until my plane departed, I tried to buy a book to read, but I saw his novels in the shop, and had to leave empty-handed.

I couldn't read, so I drank.

In the dimly-lit lounge, day was night and night was day, and the sign said it was happy hour somewhere.

I was teetering as I went through security, and the security staff looked at me warily.

"High heels," I said. "I usually wear flats."

I tossed my purse into the plastic bin and walked through the metal detector without a peep. I glanced up at the screen as my purse went through the machine.

"What the hell is that?" I said.

The round-cheeked woman in the security vest glanced up at the screen.

"Necklace," she said.

"But I …  right, necklace."

I took my purse back and continued on my way, to the next holding area, and then on to my plane.

Once seated, I finally got the courage to open my purse.

There it was-a turquoise blue box, tied with a chocolate-brown ribbon bearing the word Birks. This was the Montreal equivalent of Tiffanys, and I knew this because we'd walked past the store on our walking tour of Phillips Square. I'd actually gone to get ice cream while he said he was running in to use the washroom.

I opened the box.

The woman seated next to me on the plane gasped. "Mon dieu!" she exclaimed, then started peppering me with what sounded like questions.

"I'll have to return it," I said, as much to her as to myself. "It's from a man who I can't have in my life."

I turned to look out the airplane's window.

The plane began to taxi down the runway, and it couldn't go fast enough to make me happy.

In my mind, I saw Smith, and all his moods. The most powerful image was the one from the photo on the website, with his face red and contorted with rage. Next to him, I'd looked weak and pathetic.

The woman asked why I couldn't have such a "generous man" in my life.

I said, "I'm done playing Cinderella, and I'm going home."