One thing about me: I HATE flying. It's my worst nightmare.
That's why I book seat 2A every time I fly. Since my big win, I've been booking seats 2B and 2C as well. They're my comfort seats, they cushion the claustrophobia, and at last I can afford them.
I am now determined to live the life of luxury. I deserve it, after all.
How to Live Like a Millionaire is the book I'm reading on this flight. When it lands on the floor, a handsome guy hands it back to me. I know he clocks the title, because he's totally charming and talks to me as if I'm one of the Marbella Millionaire set.
When I land in sunny Spain, I'll be acting like a millionairess, that's for sure - even if it's stretching the truth, just a bit. We all know that money talks, and I intend to talk my way into a better life.
Who knows... maybe this guy, the one who had the cheek to sit down in seat 2C, might be someone special. He has an air of danger, but who cares?