Page 67 of Pucking Billionaire

“I understand.” He covers my hands with his. “Just like how I know that someone else won’t hurt me in the same way my parents did, but I still often feel like they might.”

Trust issues. Should I tell him that could be my middle name?

“Is this why you haven’t had a serious relationship?” I blurt, then wince at my own awkward bluntness. “I’m asking on behalf of all your rabid fans.” Nope, that didn’t make it better.

He arches an eyebrow. “So… you looked me up?”

He told me he doesn’t date, but I wanted to dig deeper into it. “It’s not stalking,” I say defensively. “You’re a public figure.”

He sighs too. “I’ve never thought about it that way, but maybe you have a point. I certainly don’t trust people easily… but I somehow feel like I can trust you. Maybe because you’ve told me your biggest secret?”

Except I haven’t. Rupert is my biggest secret, and I haven’t mentioned him.

“What about you?” Mason asks. “Have you had any serious relationships? And before you bring up the damned report I ran on you, it didn’t say anything about that, or else I wouldn’t ask.”

If I were going to tell him about Rupert, this would be my chance. He’s certainly shared something very painful and personal.

But apparently, I can’t, which is why my mouth says, “No. I haven’t had any serious relationships.”

If I were Pinocchio, my nose would be the length of Uber.

Mason’s sympathetic expression makes me feel like a piece of Pazuzu for lying. “Do you think it’s because of the thing with your mom?”

I shrug. “That’s what any therapist would say.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “Coach made us all see one of those. She tried to seduce me.”

“That bitch.” Oops, that just slipped out. “I mean, seducing a patient is against all the rules.”

A devilish grin twists his lips. “Are you jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous?” Seriously, I’d like to know… because I totally am.

“I don’t know.” He cocks his head. “It just sounds like you’re jealous.”

“I’m not.” Time to change the subject. “Have you ever heard of the Pinocchio paradox?”

Hmm, the first thing I do after lying is mention a famous liar? Smooth.

Mason puts his arm around me again. “What, pray tell, is the Pinocchio paradox?”

“Well…” I do my best not to sound like Professor Ambien. “This paradox arises if Pinocchio ever says, ‘My nose grows now.’”

Mason frowns. “Because if what he says is true and his nose is growing, that would be breaking the rule of it only growing when he lies. But if what he says is false, and his nose isn’t growing, then he’s telling a lie—” He rubs his temples. “This is why I’d never major in philosophy. It can give you a worse headache than a puck to the head.”

“Apologies. I didn’t realize that using your brain might give you a headache.” I’m actually not a fan of paradoxes myself, and for similar reasons to his, but they provide a great distraction—case in point: no more talk about jealousy.

Mason rolls his eyes. “Did you know there is a Russian version of Pinocchio? His name is Buratino, and his nose is permanently long—not because he’s a liar, but just because that’s what the author, Tolstoy, decided. The tale is very popular in Estonia.”

I gape at him. “Tolstoy? As in the guy who wrote War and Peace?” That would be like Disney producing The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, musical edition.

“No, not that one, but a distant relative of his,” Mason says. “There are actually three famous Tolstoys: Lev Nikolayevich, Aleksey Nikolayevich, and Aleksey Konstantinovich.”

“Not confusing at all,” I say with a grin.

“Not as confusing as the Pinocchio paradox,” he retorts.

“Touché.” I look at the large clock above the building where the bathrooms are. “Shouldn’t we head back?”

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