Page 48 of The Billionaires

I touch the gorgeous necklace. “Did you have the Tiffany’s bag with you?”

He gives Blackbeard a respectful glance. “You’re right. He must’ve snuck inside that bag, then hid somewhere in this car.”

I chuckle. “That’s one nice thing about my cactus. He stays put.”

Lucius pets his ferret’s fur with a slight eyeroll. “Not as nice to the touch, though, your cactus.”

“But he can produce life-giving oxygen, so it’s a tradeoff.”

Lucius doesn’t look convinced, but thankfully, he changes the topic. “Do you want to keep playing the-get-to-know-you game?”

I sigh. “Sure. What was the next question on that genius list you dug up?”

Holding the ferret with one hand, he pulls out his phone with the other and gives it a brief glance. “Do you prefer party balloons or clowns?”

I wait for the punchline that never comes. Even the ferret is like, “How is that relevant?”

I blow out a breath. “Balloons, I guess. Clowns are scary.”

“They are now, but they weren’t throughout history—which they have a lot of. Even in Ancient Rome, they had stupidus—a type of clown. I bet it was John Wayne Gacy and Pennywise from It that made clowns scary. Maybe the Joker too.”

I consider it. “Nope. I didn’t like clowns as a kid—without exposure to any serial killers or fictional evil clowns. I think it was about their weird outfits and makeup.”

Lucius lifts Blackbeard to his face and rubs his stubbly-looking cheek against the ferret’s fur. “What did you want to ask me?”

I gape at him. Am I hallucinating, or is this the least asshole-y thing I’ve ever seen any man do? I mean, cuteness-wise, this is right up there with a dude cuddling a baby, and Lucius must do this regularly because Blackbeard seems to like it. The ferret closes his eyes in evident pleasure. If he were a cat, I bet he’d purr.

This is not what I would’ve expected from Lucius. At all.

I pull my scrambled brains together. “What’s your favorite movie?”

He scoffs. “How is this question better than the ones on the list you’ve been whining about?”

Ah, the dickish Lucius is back… or he never left. “I bet I could learn a lot about you from the answer.”

“Fine,” he says. “Gladiator. What does that tell you?”

I grin. “That we have something in common. I love that movie. It also tells me that, like me, you think Russell Crowe is hot. Right?”

Was that a hint of a smile? “No,” Lucius says. “But he did give a great performance, and the film is the best of all the ones I’ve seen depicting Rome.”

Boom. A collection of his other answers flits through my brain, along with those stupid elevator buttons. “You’re really into Ancient Rome, huh?”

“And you’re really into cactuses. So what?”

I stick my tongue out—a gesture the ferret instantly parrots before taking it further by licking Lucius’s cheek. “Just shows you how much I’ve learned about you thanks to this one question.”

Lucius uses his shoulder to wipe ferret saliva from his face. “You win. I’ll be asking future dates about their favorite movie. Happy now?”

No. Not at all. I hate the idea of him on future dates… with other people, that is. “Why Rome?” I ask, eager to mask my irrational reaction.

He presses the ferret to his chest as if the little creature were a baby. “My mom took me there when she was into it. For her, it turned out to be yet another phase. For me, it stuck.”

There seems to be something unspoken here, especially considering that suggestion that his mom had a one-night stand with one of the Metallica members.

“Are you and your mom close?” I ask gently.

His lips grow tight. “Not anymore.”

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