Trouble in Paradise (Romantic Suspense, Completed)

Chapter 24

The journey from Fidda Hilal to Sharm el-Sheikh seemed eons longer than the drive the other way. Then, I'd been lamenting the breakup of a relationship with a man I now understood had taken me for granted.

From the weeks I'd spent with Adam, I saw how little effort Bryce had put into our time together. He'd expected me to run around after him, making dinner and washing his clothes. Ironing his underpants had seemed so normal at the time.

Now I knew better.

But you know what Bryce didn't do? He didn't lie.

As I wiped a tear from my cheek, I mourned the death of a person who'd never truly existed. Adam had shown me what I wanted from a man. A friend, a companion, someone who'd have my back no matter what. He'd given me that. But what he hadn't given me was something I realised I needed above all else.

Honesty.

I needed a man who gave me all of himself. Adam claimed he hadn't been dishonest, but he hadn't been forthcoming with the truth either. Except when he was talking with Kat. He'd been quick enough to tell her that he didn't want me there.

Well, he'd got his wish.

Traffic on the two-lane highway was far busier than before, but ninety percent of the vehicles were on the other side of the road, all heading towards Fidda Hilal. Trucks carrying boxes, cars with suitcases strapped to the roof, and even a couple of coaches whizzed past. And in keeping with Egyptian tradition, my driver tooted and waved at every single one of them.

I still couldn't help feeling I was taking the coward's way out, but even as she hugged me beside the taxi, Kat had insisted I was doing the right thing.

"Honestly, I'll be fine. There are plenty of people here to help now. If you can keep yourself out of the spotlight, so much the better."

"If you want me to come back, just call, okay? I'll get the next flight out. Well, the next one I can get a ticket on."

"I'll see you soon, but it'll be in England. Just make sure you stock up on chocolate. I can't wait to get my hands on a giant bar of Cadbury's."

"It'll be waiting, I promise."

As we drove into Sharm el-Sheikh, a symphony of hoots serenaded us. There was traffic everywhere. It was only when we finally reached the terminal that I understood the reach of Scott Lowes.

Had I walked into an airport or a movie set? Harried-looking runners wheeled stacks of boxes, people shouted into phones, and two hipsters nearly came to blows over the last pain au chocolat at the kiosk. In the background, a make-up artist painted a stunning brunette's lips as she prepared to go live for the camera. Out on the tarmac, heat haze shimmered around a row of private jets, and airport staff frantically tried to herd crowds in the right direction. One of the security guards manning the X-ray machine was asleep.

A fuzzy monitor told me I needed desk eight, and I skirted a guy snapping pictures of the chaos. The EasyJet check-in was manned by a pair of blondes close to my age, and as I reached the front of a very short queue, they gawked as another gaggle of photographers sped past, heading for arrivals.

"Flying out, love?" one of them asked.

"Yes, back to England."

"You're going the right way. You can pick any seat you like. The plane's almost empty."

"I dunno what's going on," piped up her friend. "It's gone mental. It wasn't even this bad when Indigo Rain came to Sharm to film a music video."

"Have you looked at Twitter?" I asked.