Billionaire on the Loose (21 page)

The bleak look returned to his face. “And do what? Stare at the TV?”

“Do something. Get out of the house. Join a club. Go to a support group. Get a part-time job. Something. Anything. It's just . . . you can't let online people control your life, Sig. And I can't, either.” She bit her lip. “I was pretending online, too, you know. Pretending I had everything under control. That I could handle being there for you all the time and juggling my job and still managing to get by. And you know what happened?”

“You got fired?” he guessed.

She nodded.

“You did miss a lot of work.”

“Someone was emotionally blackmailing me to be online with him.”

He gave a rueful nod of his head. “Yeah, guess I was. I'm sorry, Tay.” He squeezed her hand again. “You're my best friend, you know.”

She smiled. “We can still be friends.
Just
friends. But I'm not going to be playing as much as I used to, so we'll have to limit it to texts.”

Sig gave a heavy sigh. “If it makes you feel any better, my mom already said I can't have my laptop back for three months and until the doctors are sure my depression meds have me leveled out.”

“Your mom's a smart cookie.”

He hesitated. “I'm sorry I made you lose your job.”

“I'm sorry I let things go on for so long.” She gave him a searching look. “Do you . . . do you really want to die?”

His mouth crumpled a little, and she passed the Kleenex back to him. “I just . . . I get so down, and then there's no one there for me.”

“Well, you're getting help now. I can't promise that every day will be awesome, but you're going to have the right medication to help you, and your mom is there for you, and I'm still your friend, no matter what. All right?”

He nodded again, and put his hand back on hers. Then he turned it over slowly. “No ring?”

“I told you he was a dud, didn't I?” She tried to smile, but it felt really, really damn hard at the moment.

“If he doesn't love you, then he's a dumbass.”

“On that, we're both agreed.”

Taylor ended up staying in Milwaukee a week. It was good to have the distraction so she wouldn't think about Loch. Of course, she thought about him anyhow. The hurt she felt at his betrayal was still fresh, and what really sucked was that she missed him. She missed his smile, his teasing, his touch. She felt betrayed, of course, but she also felt . . . lonely. She'd have given him whatever he wanted if he'd been truthful with her, and instead, she just felt used.

She hated that she missed him. She should hate him, right? She should be filled with rage and justified anger at the way he treated her. Instead, she just felt . . . sad. Every night, she cried herself to sleep, hugging her pillow and wishing it was one of Loch's big arms, and then she hated herself for still wanting him.

Her days were spent with Donna and Sig. Donna—Sig's mom—had missed several days of work already and had no one to sit with Sig at the hospital while he recovered. Taylor volunteered and purchased every computer gaming magazine in the gift shop so they could mock some of the upcoming releases. They watched TV together, and she slept on the chair in his room while his mom went out. Sig seemed to be getting better, but he wasn't keen on the doctor's recommendation of ongoing therapy. Both Donna and Taylor had to press him hard to get him to even see the psychologist. After one session, though, he seemed a little more bright-eyed, and he hadn't shunned Taylor's suggestions of finding a local gaming group to hang out with.

“These guys play
Magic: The Gathering
every Friday,” she told him, handing him a flyer she'd ripped off the wall of a nearby comic book store. She'd spent a couple hundred dollars—all on her groaning MasterCard—to get Sig some backlist issues of a comic she thought he'd enjoy. “You should join them. I bought you some cards you can start with, too.”

He studied the flyer dubiously, then handed it back to her. “I've never played
Magic
. No one's going to want to show me the ropes.”

“Oh, please. There's always a few tools there, but most guys are usually willing to show you how to play. I promise.”

He was still unconvinced, so at Taylor's insistence, they dropped in on the comic shop together and chatted with the sales guy. A quick drop-in turned into a three-hour play session. It turned out that the kid behind the counter—only a year older than Sig—also played
Excelsior
, and they'd played cards and chatted away the afternoon.

Sig declared that he'd go for Friday Night Magic as long as his new buddy Matt would be there, and Taylor sent up a silent prayer that Matt would be a good friend and not a douche. Already they'd decided to raid together in
Excelsior
, and Donna had said she would allow it, provided he didn't panic.

Eventually, Taylor had to go back to New York. She helped Donna straighten up the small apartment, took Sig out for dinner, and then gave them both a dozen hugs at the airport as she readied to leave. “You know I'm only a phone call away, right?”

“I know,” Sig said, but he still looked sad. Poor kid.

She hugged him again. “And if you feel down, you talk to your therapist. And you go out and get some fresh air, all right?”

“Yes, Mom,” he mocked, rolling his eyes at her. “Don't let that guy treat you like shit, all right?”

“Yes, Mom,” she teased him back.

***

“So how was Milwaukee?” Gretchen asked as they met for lunch the day after Taylor returned to New York.

“Well, I can't say it was good because he did try to kill himself, but I think it was . . . cleansing?” Taylor shrugged and nibbled on a breadstick, crumbs going everywhere. She absently swiped them away. “We talked about our issues and I think we came to a better understanding.”

“I still can't believe that it was a kid, and that he was blackmailing you.”

Sometimes Taylor didn't believe it herself. “I just let things get out of control, you know?” She looked down at her chest and was surprised to see the sea of crumbs there. Jeez. Loch would have made a joke about her klutziness and offered to brush them off for her, but Loch was gone. She felt a pang of hurt and forced a bright smile on her face. “The good news is that he's scaling back on the game and I'm quitting for a while.”

“That is good news.” Gretchen snagged a breadstick for herself and then gave Taylor a concerned look. “I just don't want you to blame yourself for the situation, okay? People can be very self-destructive and you can't save them unless they want to be saved. Look at my sister Daphne. She's been a wreck for years.”

“I thought she was getting better?” She surreptitiously brushed at her breasts, wiping away the remnants of the breadstick. Gretchen didn't talk about Daphne much, but Daphne also wasn't in the wedding and Gretchen's other sister Audrey was, so she knew there were issues.

“She's out of rehab and is working through some therapy stuff, but how do I know if it'll stick? It hasn't in the past.” She shook her head sadly. “I've had to dissociate myself from her because it hurts too much. That's why I'm warning you. People determined to destroy themselves will, regardless of what you do. The more miserable ones just try and bring others down with them.”

Taylor pursed her lips, thinking. “I guess. He's young, though, and just lonely. I hope he's smart enough to take the steps he needs to.”

“I hope so, too.” Gretchen leaned forward, a devilish glint in her eye. “By the way, don't think you're going to get away with not telling me what's going on between you and Loch. The last time I saw you two, you were super cozy.” She rubbed her hands gleefully. “So now I want all the deets.”

Oh, god. Taylor gave her a falsely bright smile. “We didn't work out.”

Gretchen sat back in her chair. “Not work out? You two were practically smooching at the table when we went to lunch a few weeks ago! What happened?” Her eyes widened and she leaned in. “Please don't tell me that you couldn't fit him in around your computer game schedule, because I might have to kill you.”

Taylor shook her head. “That wasn't it.” Her lip quivered, and then she grabbed her napkin, because damn it, she really did not want to cry again.

Gretchen's eyes went wide. “Oh my god. What did he do? Now I really need the details.” She waved the waiter over. “We're going to need more drinks for this.”

Over the course of the next hour, Taylor drank margaritas, wept into her napkin, and told Gretchen about Loch. About the one-night stand that was just supposed to be for one night and wasn't. About hitting her head and staying with him for a few nights that turned into a week. About Loch hiring her to be his assistant. About him taking her to the convention. His proposal. About her discovery of the truth when the text message came in, and the confrontation with Loch that had confirmed her worst fears: That he didn't want her, he just wanted someone who the royal family would disapprove of. By the time she was finished talking, she was wrung out, more than slightly tipsy after three strong margaritas, and was nibbling on a brownie cheesecake she was splitting with Gretchen.

“He's a jerk,” Gretchen slurred, clutching her amaretto sour. “You want me to kick him out of the wedding? I figure the groomsmen have been a revolving door anyhow. What's one more?”

“Nah.” Taylor hiccupped. “I don't wanna ruin your day. Plus . . .” She gave a wistful sigh. “He'd look really good in a tux.”

Gretchen nodded solemnly. “He does have a mighty fine ass. I mean, Hunter's is better, but I'd prefer no one look at that one but me. He's gut the cutest lil' scar on his right butt cheek.” She took another sip of her drink. “But I didn't tell you that.”

“Didn't hear a thing,” Taylor agreed. She licked the salt from the rim of her last margarita, since the waiter wasn't coming by to bring another. “You know what's sad? I should be super upset over Sig and how he's a kid and tried to kill himself over me, but the thing I'm really upset over is Loch.” She wiped a salt crystal off her finger. “Makes me feel like a really bad person.”

“Why? I think it makes sense. He broke your heart.” She tipped back the last of her drink and fished the cherry out of the bottom of her glass. “Much like this waiter is going to break my heart if he doesn't bring me a freaking refill.”

“Mmm.” Taylor stared at her own empty glass sadly. She could drink another margarita, but getting home without falling over would probably be a challenge, especially if Loch wasn't there to lean on. He'd always been at just the right spot to pick her up before she fell over her own two feet, and made her feel pretty instead of klutzy. Too bad it was all an act. “I would have married him, you know.”

“Hmm?” Gretchen leaned in.

“If he'd told me he wanted to have a goof wedding that wasn't legit? That he just wanted a green card or something that would keep him off the throne? I'd have done it. Just for fun and to swan around as his wife for a time. I'd totally be his baroness. I don't care about being a legit wife or anything.” She stared morosely down at her empty glass. “But the way he went about it . . . I feel used. Like he was just using me for sex. Or like I was another servant who could hand him his socks when he couldn't find them for himself.”

“His socks?”

Taylor sighed. “Yeah. He's pretty helpless sometimes.” She sniffed. “He wanted an unsuitable wife and I guess I was really unsuitable. That part hurts the most.”

“Aww, honey.” Gretchen reached out and squeezed Taylor's hand, then winced. “You're all sticky.”

“I think it's the salt.” She licked the back of her hand and then wiped it with a napkin. “I just . . . I hate being so stupid. Being so used. And now I don't even have a job.”

Gretchen's eyes widened. “Ohmigod, I can totally help you with that!”

“No, seriously.” Taylor waved her off. “I know Hunter's rich but I'm not sponging off of any more billionaires . . . or their fiancées. I'll send out my résumé and find some nice quiet tech-support job again.” Blech.

“It's not sponging,” Gretchen declared. “I seriously need help. Legit help.”

“You do.” Taylor giggled at her joke.

Gretchen made a face. “Not like that, dummy. I'm working on my cookbook. My editor wants it in a few months and so I have to give all the recipes a test-drive. I've written the majority of them out but I need someone to try and re-create them based off of my instructions to make sure I have everything written out properly and in a sensible way. I need to know if I fucked them up, and I can't tell myself. It's not the most glamorous job. You'd have to come over to my place and cook each recipe. Then we have to taste it to see if it ends up like mine.”

“That . . . doesn't sound so terrible.”

“It's not! But it's necessary for me, or else I'm going to spaz about whether or not they read correctly, since this is my first cookbook.” She straightened and clapped her hands. “Oh my god, and you can also do some taste tests for me! There's a few where I have duplicate recipes because I'm not sure which version I like better. You can, like, stand on a street corner and give people samples and tell me which one they like better! This is awesome!”

Taylor hesitated. “Gosh, I don't know. I had Loch hire me, and you see how well that worked out.”

Gretchen reached out and smacked her hand. “Stop that. How much did he pay you? I'll double it. It's a temporary job anyhow, but it'll give you time to pay your bills while you get your résumé out there.”

It would. She got weepy at the thought. “Thanks, Gretchen. You're an amazing friend.”

“I know. But Hunter's money helps.” She reached across the table and hugged Taylor. “And you deserve something good to happen. Life's been crapping on you lately.”

Taylor sniffed hard and rested her head on Gretchen's shoulder. She was lucky to have friends like Gretchen—irreverent, foul-mouthed, but always supportive.

Maybe after she was done working with Gretchen, the ache of Loch's betrayal wouldn't burn like a brand in her chest.

Maybe.

***

One Month Later

“You played like balls, mate. Forget all your moves while over in America?” Roderick jabbed Loch with a friendly elbow as they walked back to the locker room.

“Fuck off,” Loch said with a forced grin. It wasn't the first time he'd heard something like that since he'd come home. And it was true. He'd played terribly at today's rugby match. One could argue that he was out of practice but he knew it was more than that.

It was one person in particular that he couldn't get out of his head.

“Maybe if you showed up again, things'd be all right, hey? Or you just not into playing anymore?” Roderick shot him a curious look. “Haven't seen you much at all since you got back.”

That was certainly true. He'd returned home thinking he'd go back to his normal life of endless sports, drinking with mates, and enjoying himself. Instead, he'd been moping around his villa. Some days, it was rough just getting out of bed.

And it was all because she hated him. Because he'd been a prick to her and now she thought he'd used her. And maybe he had. He was the bad guy, and he hated it. He hated that he'd hurt her, and he'd lost her.

But all he said was, “Got a lot on my mind, that's all.”

Roderick tugged at the strap on his head guard. “Because of your cousin? Royal baby and all?”

“Mmm.” The royal baby-to-come had been making all the headlines. True to prediction, once the news of Alex and Luke's upcoming child had made the rounds, all dissent had pretty much dissipated. Now, Alex and Luke were on the cover of every magazine and newspapers, and Royal Baby Watch had officially started, even though Alex was not even three months along. Loch had been home for a few weeks and it had been quiet. All of the attention had focused back on the crown princess and her family, and Loch had been assured that he did not need to marry at all. He could return to his life of leisure and irresponsibility.