Page 44 of Pucking Billionaire

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not stalking if he genuinely goes to this school. I know the girl in the bursar office who got him registered.”

Questions like, “What girl?” and “Is she pretty?” are on my lips, but I don’t want to give Abigail any ammunition.

Abigail’s face turns serious. “Why are you so against giving him a chance? Everyone thinks you’re together, anyway.”

She’s talking about a disreputable tabloid that took pictures of me and Mason as we left the bar on F-Day. If they are to be believed, Mason and I are minutes away from tattooing each other’s names on our genitals.

“He doesn’t want a chance with me, if that’s what you mean,” I say. “He wants his precious team, and I’m just a means to that end.”

And hey, at least he’s open about needing something from me—unlike Rupert, who fucked me literally on the way to fucking me figuratively.

“It didn’t look like he wanted the team the other day,” she says. “It looked like he wanted you.”

I shake my head. “You’re wrong, but it doesn’t matter. Even if I decided to start dating someone, it wouldn’t be a guy like Mason.” A guy I could see myself falling for all too easily—a surefire way to get my heart shredded yet again.

“Who said anything about dating?” She waggles her eyebrows. “A lot of fun can be had without such drastic measures.”

“Yeah, no.” The more orgasms I have, the closer I shift to the point of no return, and Mason has already given me as many as Rupert did in our first month of dating.

Abigail sighs. “Maybe you’ll meet someone on the cruise?”

“Maybe.” But I highly doubt it.

From here, we chat about nothing of substance until the food is gone, at which point I text Richard to let him know I’m ready to hit the road.

As I walk through campus to the car, I catch myself still looking around for Mason—with no luck. But just as my ride comes into view, I feel a hand land on my shoulder. A masculine hand.

Feeling oddly elated, I turn, expecting to see Mason’s chiseled, Viking-like face… only to lay my eyes on its complete opposite.

“Hi, baby,” Rupert says, his smile as fake as the Rolex knockoff on his bony wrist. “Long time, no see.”

Chapter 18

Sophia

No matter how intently I stare at my ex, I can’t figure out how I ever found him attractive, let alone thought myself in love with him.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, though I have an inkling.

“Why so hostile?” Rupert asks demurely. “I missed you, so I’ve been walking around this place, hoping I’d bump into you.”

“This ‘place’ that I almost couldn’t attend, thanks to you,” I grit out.

“What do you mean?” His brown eyes shine with such innocence that a less world-weary woman might actually fall for it—just as I once did.

“The apartment,” I remind him. “The down payment I gave you before you disappeared? That ring a bell?”

His scamming me out of that money turned out to be the tip of the iceberg. Among other things, he also defaulted on the lease for the car that I co-signed for, dealing a final death blow to my credit score.

“Please.” He waves my words away like an insect, and I wish I were a Viking—because if I were, pacifist or not, I’d break his arm. “I can explain.”

“No explanation is necessary. You’ve got a gambling addiction—maybe a drug one too—and I was an idiot… but I’m not anymore.”

His amicable façade slips for a microsecond, and I see what I always should have seen—a nasty piece of shit. “Is this about your hockey player boyfriend? He will cheat on you with one of his million groupies—we both know that.”

I take a step back. “What?”

“Just read the tabloids,” he says. “It’s all there.”

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