Billionaire on the Loose (22 page)

Joy.

“So what did you do while you were in the States?” Roderick asked. “You play anything there?”

I met a woman, fell in love, and then broke her heart
. “Went to a polo club or two but it wasn't for me.”

Roderick exclaimed, surprised. “What did you do for the entire month?”

Loch shrugged. He'd been bored for a while, but then . . . he'd found Taylor. And then nothing was boring anymore. Funny how that had worked. Funny how, after coming back, even his old passions were now boring. Everything was boring. Life wasn't the same without Taylor, and it bloody hurt. “Jogged. Watched movies. Oh, and I played this video game called
Excelsior
—”

Roderick's derisive laughter stopped him short. “You're pulling my leg, aren't you? Video games? You? You're not the type.”

“Oh? What's the type?” Loch's temper threatened, but he forced himself to relax. Roderick was just being . . . well, Roderick. A happy-go-lucky, spoiled son of a bitch, but typical Roderick.

“You know,” Roderick said as they walked into the locker room and the humidity of the showers hit like a wall. “Bunch of nerds with glasses and spots.”

Loch's jaw clenched. That didn't describe Taylor at all. Sure, she was a self-professed nerd, but he loved that she was so willing to be her own person, so utterly enthusiastic about the things she loved . . .

Including him.

And that made despair stab at him all over again. “Fuck off about all that, Rod.”

“Can't believe you,” Roderick teased, unaware of Loch's growing bad mood. “Went to the States for a month and all you did was play video games. You hear that, Toby?” He snapped a towel on another man's back. “Loch did fuck-all in his trip to the States.”

“Yeah?” Toby turned, rubbing his wet hair with a towel as Loch headed toward his cubby and pulled his gear out. “You tap a lot of American ass? That's what I'd have done the entire month.” He grinned. “Told 'em all I was a baron of Bellissime and watched their knickers fly right off.”

“Wasn't like that.” Great, now he was getting angry at Toby. He stripped off his shirt and shoved it into his bag.

“I'll bet it wasn't,” Toby teased, and he and Roderick hooted with laughter while the rest of the team talked around them. Did Loch sleep with any actresses? Did all Americans have big blonde hair like on the television shows? Was New York as dirty and crowded as it looked on the telly?

He deflected questions, keeping his answers vague, but his irritation grew with every passing moment. He needed to leave, or he was going to do something he'd regret, like punch a mate in the face. Loch stripped down and headed to the shower, washing the sweat of today's game off of his body. Off to one side of the showers, a rookie walked in with a set of towels and the team quickly started to rib him about how he was new and how bollocks he was on the field.

Loch washed his hair, silent.

He was . . . well, he was angry and more than a bit appalled.

Was this what his life had been prior to going to the States? Boyish teasing about women and sports and nothing of consequence? He wiped soap from his eyes, thinking. Roderick's family was Swiss and in banking. Roderick had never worked a day in his life. Same with Toby, whose British parents had moved to Bellissime to take over the National Hotel. He thought of others on the team—Corey, Mitch, Albert—none of them had worked a day in their lives despite being in their late twenties. They had all gone to school, attended university and then . . . what?

Absolutely nothing. They played polo, and rugby, and drank beer down at the local pub. They dated women and spent money, and that was about it.

And that was Loch's life, too.

He thought of Taylor.

Sweet, beautiful Taylor with her sparkling, happy eyes. Who found such pleasure in small things, whereas his friends couldn't even get impressed over a new yacht or three.

Taylor, with her headset on, painstakingly going over instructions with clients on the phone, repeating details over and over again. The hours she'd spent on the computer, logging tickets and answering emails. She'd worked long and hard and for not much money.

So what if she wanted to spend her idle time playing video games instead of sports? She could do whatever she bloody well liked. She'd earned those hours of leisure.

And he didn't like that they were mocking her for it.

Taylor might have been a nerd, but that didn't mean she was less worthy than his spoiled friends who rode ponies all day and chased a damned ball.

The shower hadn't helped his mood simmer down. If anything, he was more angry than ever before. Taylor was better than the lot of them. She was smarter, more independent, more self-reliant and had a better work ethic than every man he knew.

He thought of Rex's pointed questions about how much money Loch had as he dressed. About his life of privilege and how it had kept him from being in touch with what was truly going on in his life. He put on his belt, tucked his wallet into his pocket, and grabbed his bag of gear. The men were still laughing, talking nearby. Roderick had a towel around his waist but hadn't yet dressed.

Loch studied him, and then nodded in his direction. “Hey, Rod. How much are you worth?”

Roderick gave him a confused look. “What?”

“In your bank account,” Loch clarified. “Just curious. How much is in there?”

Roderick laughed, throwing his head back. “How the fuck should I know? Do I look like a bloody accountant?”

“Just curious. Cheers.” He waved to the men in the locker room and headed out.

“You not coming to the pub, mate?” Toby called after him.

“Got stuff I need to take care of,” he said, not turning around. “I'll catch you boys next time.” He was sure they would be confused by his actions—and some might be offended. Loch was always the first one to go out with the guys, and he normally bought the first round. Always said they deserved it after a hard day of work.

God, he was a spoiled git sometimes.

Lost in thought, Loch left the locker room and headed out through the front of the gym he and his friends frequented. There was a girl up front whose name he didn't recall, but he knew she was there regularly, folding towels and answering the phones. Curious, he headed toward her. “Excuse me.”

She looked up from the stack of towels. “Can I help you with something, sir?”

“Just curious about something.” He rubbed his jaw. “This might come off wrong, but I was wondering . . . do you know how much is in your bank account?”

The woman frowned at him, her brows going up. The look on her face was wary. “Why?”

He raised a hand. “I know it's prying. But I was just curious. You
do
know what is in there?”

“Down to the penny.” Her eyes narrowed and she took a nervous glance around. “Why do you ask?”

Hell, now he was making her nervous. Her answer had satisfied him, though. Of course she knew—down to the penny, as she'd said—how much was in her account. It was because it mattered to her. Because she'd worked hard to scrape together whatever funds she had.

She was like Taylor—she didn't have a trust fund or rich parents to lean on. She didn't live a life of sports and drinking with friends. She worked, no doubt long hours.

And him? He'd been a spoiled brat who'd pushed people around to get his way all because he didn't want to be considered in line for king. Because it was too much responsibility and responsibility was something that Loch had hated with a passion.

It was sobering to realize that at almost thirty, he had yet to grow up.

It was time to change that.

It made him ache to think that even if he fixed the things he didn't like about himself, he'd still lost her. That he couldn't go back in time and fix all the things that had brought him to this place, just so he could keep her for a few more days.

Funny how life had turned into Before Taylor and After Taylor. Before Taylor, he was a man-child just like his friends—full of money and not a care in the world. After Taylor?

He was broken and sad, but he was going to become a better man, damn it. If he couldn't have Taylor back, at least he could become the man she'd want him to be.

***

Loch had lunch with Alex and her husband, Luke, the next day. His cousin was radiant, glowing with health and happiness, and everyone at the tiny restaurant came over to give the princess their congratulations. She accepted all of their felicitations with a beaming, patient smile. Her husband was pleased, too. Alex and Luke held hands and touched each other in small ways throughout the meal, and it was evident they were in love.

It made Loch jealous as hell.

“How have you been, cousin?” Alex asked. “We haven't seen you much lately.”

He'd gotten good at deflecting. “Just busy. So how are things in the palace?” Loch asked, changing the subject. “Everything settled?”

“As settled as it can be.” Alexandra gave her husband a loving glance. “Luke's going back to Los Angeles for two months to film a movie, and so some people aren't pleased about that, but it's been contracted for months now.”

“It's a kid's movie, for Pete's sake,” Luke said, and rolled his eyes. “I have to wear a damn tutu and leotard and chase the bad guys through a ballet school. I'm not sure how anyone can object to that, but for some reason, they're acting like I'm abandoning my wife.” He reached over and touched her hand. “Baby, do you need me to stay here and wipe your brow through all the morning sickness you haven't had?”

Alex chuckled and gave him a sly look. “I think I shall manage just fine without you for all of two months.” She looked back at Loch and gave a small little shrug of her shoulders. “He'll be here for the rest of the pregnancy. We'll just make sure to be extremely visible for the rest of it.”

Loch nodded absently. He stared down at his plate, untouched. Their playful banter and their easiness together? It made him think of Taylor, and how good and right it had felt to be with her. How they could have fun together. How she'd made him feel important, and he hadn't realized how much he needed that.

Damn it, he missed her. No, not just
missed
her. He was shit without her.

“I'm going back to the States for a while,” Loch announced a moment later. “I'll still keep a house here, but I'd like to spend several months out of the year there.”

Alex looked surprised. “You enjoyed it that much? I heard you didn't want to stay there.”

Yeah, he didn't at first . . . but things changed. He'd changed. And Taylor wasn't here. He needed to be where she was, if nothing else. But they wouldn't understand that, so he said, “It grew on me. Being in New York on my own was very different than my life here. It made me realize that change isn't always a bad thing, and learning to be more independent is beneficial. I'm probably going to purchase a home there and split my time between Bellissime and the States for a while.”

“I see.” Alex didn't look convinced.

Luke just grinned. “Met someone, did you?”

A wounded laugh bubbled out of Loch.
Met someone and lost her
. “Am I that obvious?”

“Depends on who you're talking to.” Luke gave his wife an affectionate glance. “I know I had a turnabout on how I felt about Bellissime once I'd met her.”

Alex blushed and fidgeted with her napkin. “Well, if you must go, cousin, I hope she's worth it.”

Loch thought of Taylor and the ache in his breast grew. “I don't know if she's interested anymore, but she is most definitely worth it.”

A week later, Loch was back in New York and ensconced in the same hotel suite he'd occupied for a month. The room was exactly the same as he'd left it . . . but different somehow. Every surface had been dusted, straightened, cleaned, the closets were full of fresh hangers and the bathroom full of new, wrapped soaps. The bed had been made, the sheets crisp, and it was like no one had used the room, ever. There was no sign that he and Taylor had been here for weeks, laughing and making love and enjoying each other's company.

He hated it.

It made him sad. It was just a hotel room, but . . . it felt odd to see all traces of their existence together swept away. He even checked the mini-fridge, because Taylor'd had a habit of sticking half-drank bottles of water back in there in case he wouldn't be charged for them, but it was full of fresh, new bottles of water.

There was no sign of Taylor anywhere. It was just like the rest of his life—as empty of her shining presence—and it made him realize just how much he'd fucked up.

How much he'd lost.

He ignored the idea of unpacking his luggage and sat down on the couch with his laptop and phone. The need to see Taylor again was like a craving inside of him. Of course, he was a helpless, spoiled idiot and didn't remember her address from the times he'd gone to her apartment, so he couldn't show up there and push his way in, demanding that she speak to him.

Which was probably for the best. He had a suspicion that “demanding” anything wouldn't go over well with Taylor, much as he wanted to.

So he tried texting her. He'd not sent her a word since they'd parted. At first, it was because he'd felt ashamed of how he'd acted and a text-apology seemed wrong. Then, he'd realized how much he'd missed her and he'd decided to wait to contact her until he was back in New York, that way he could show her that he was trying to change instead of just giving lip service to the concept.

Of course, now that he was here, the time lost felt like missed opportunity. Would she have been receptive to his calls if he'd tried? He didn't know, and thinking about it was making him a little crazy.

Loch: Taylor? It's me, Loch. Can we talk?

That felt . . . weirdly stiff. He stared down at the text for a moment and then added on to it.

Loch: I've missed you. A lot. Text me back.

Then he waited.

Nothing.

After an impatient half hour, he put the phone aside. Either she wasn't near her phone or deliberately not answering him. Maybe he could find her online, then. He pulled his computer onto his lap and logged into
Excelsior
. His character appeared in Cityport, in front of a building. He didn't see Taylor's character around but, then again, he wasn't entirely sure how it worked. Last time he'd played he'd just typed and sent her a message, right?

So he tried that.
Taylor are you on? Can we talk?

Someone ran past him and paused.

SoySawse: LOL NOOB.

Loch frowned at his screen. He typed again.

Brunhilde: Taylor is that you?

SoySawse: Dood u realize ur just talking in the main town?

Brunhilde: No, what do I do? I am trying to find a friend.

SoySawse: LOL ur so noob.

Prick. But at least he knew what he was talking about, which was more than he could say for himself.

Brunhilde: Can you help me?

SoySawse: Sure. Type in /duel Soysawse & that will take us 2 a chat & I cn help u.

Now they were getting somewhere. Loch typed in the command, though it seemed an odd one. Maybe
duel
was shorthand for a two-person chat?

The moment he hit Enter, a red flag showed up on the screen.
BRUNHILDE HAS CHALLENGED SOYSAWSE TO A DUEL.

What? That wasn't what he wanted to do—

The other character pulled out a gigantic sword, struck him, and Loch's toon died instantly. His ghost appeared.

BRUNHILDE HAS LOST A DUEL TO SOYSAWSE!

WAITING 30 SECONDS FOR BRUNHILDE TO RESPAWN.

The character ran a circle around him, then squatted over the corpse of Loch's character's head and began to move up and down.

SoySawse: LOL. Man u really are new. Have some teabags, noob.

Brunhilde: You're a fucking prick.

SoySawse: LOL YUP

Damn this game. He glared at his screen, watching as SoySawse “teabagged” his corpse over and over again. When the countdown timer finished, he reappeared over his body, naked. He clicked on his body and recollected his armor. Damn it. All he wanted to do was talk to Taylor, not get in a pissing war with some idiot named after an incorrectly spelled condiment.

A moment after he finished putting on his armor again, a message popped up.

Madrigal: Hello again, friend! Welcome back to the game.

Oh. It was the guy he'd met at the convention. The nice one. He tried typing in a response.
Hi Madrigal.
The words went into the main screen again. Damn it. How did he get them in the chat window?

SoySawse was still nearby and hooted with laughter.

SoySawse: U still haven't figured out messages? It's /msg dumbass!

Loch scowled at the screen, wondering if it was another trap. But
/msg
seemed . . . well, likely. And it wasn't like he hadn't already died. He tried it.

Brunhilde: Hi, this is Loch.

Success!

Brunhilde: It is nice to see you again, Madrigal. How are you, mate?

Madrigal: Doing great! Thought I'd see if you needed any help. :)

Brunhilde: I'm looking for Taylor. Is she on?

There was a long pause.

Madrigal: Oh gosh, buddy, I don't know how to tell you this but she quit the game about a month ago.

Madrigal: Sorry. :(

Brunhilde: No worries. Thanks.

Loch logged out of
Excelsior
, frowning to himself. She'd
quit
the game? But she loved the game. She played daily, even when she barely had any time. Not only did she have intense devotion to her guild, but there was Sigmund, who she had some sort of strange, tethered relationship to. Had something happened there?

If she wasn't on the game and not answering her phone, how the hell was he supposed to find her?

Gretchen.

Of course. He immediately phoned Gretchen. She couldn't ignore him since he was in her wedding, right?

But his call immediately went to voice mail.

Loch gritted his teeth. Damn it. Now this was just getting ridiculous.

***

Loch tried all day to get ahold of Gretchen. She never answered any of his voice mails, and so he emailed her as well. He considered emailing his assistant and asking him to find Taylor's street address for him, but he was trying to be independent, and crawling to someone else for help on the very first day seemed like defeat.

So he Googled.

Not that it did any good. Taylor was the expert with computers, not him, and he suspected if she didn't want her personal information to show up online, she knew how to scrub it. He couldn't find any information on a Taylor Westfield who lived in New York City, other than a Facebook profile . . . which meant he also had to make a Facebook profile. Damn it. He spent a few minutes setting one up, and then tried to friend her.

Waiting for approval.

Ah, fuck. She was never going to approve him. Stupid computer was thwarting him at every turn.

***

The next morning, Loch went out for an extra-long run to get some of his frustrations out. Everything in Central Park was the same, right down to the gentleman that he'd bought water from in the past. This time, he gave him correct change instead of foisting a twenty at the man, who looked disappointed at the turn of events.

On his walk home, he saw a familiar dirty lump resting at the mouth of an alley. Yet another thing that hadn't changed. He veered toward it, a smile lighting his face. “Hello, Rex. Nice to see you again.”

The bearded man looked up, squinting. “Hey, it's the Loch Ness Monster. How are ya, man?”

I'm lost and miserable and I fucked up the best thing in my life.
“Managing. Want to grab lunch?” Loch could use the company.

“The regular spot? Don't mind if I do.” He got to his feet and dusted off his layers of clothing. “Lead the way, my friend.”

The diner was fairly empty and as they went to the counter, Loch saw a woman giving them a revolted look as Rex set his plastic bag of belongings down on the stool next to him. He felt a surge of protectiveness for his odd friend. Rex deserved to have lunch just like everyone else. Loch clapped him on the back and gave him a half-armed hug, trying to show his approval to the world—or at the very least, the rest of the diners. “I'm glad to see you again.”

Rex grunted. “You, too. Been a few weeks. Business trip?”

Loch sat down and pulled out the menu, studying it for something less noxious than the hamburger he normally ordered. A grilled cheese looked promising. Surely they couldn't mess up a grilled cheese, could they? “Actually, I went home.”

“Back home to Switzerland? Belarus? What was that place called?”

“Bellissime.”

“Right.” He peered at Loch. “So if you went home, how come you came back?”

Loch was silent, mentally trying to parse out how much to talk about. He wanted to pour out all his feelings for Taylor, the despair he felt knowing he'd lost her, but he wasn't sure how Rex would take it. So he said nothing. The waitress came over to them and they ordered food. He turned back to Rex once both orders were in and two glasses of soda were set down in front of them. “I came back because I went home and it wasn't the same.”

“You got bored?” Rex guessed.

“I did.” He smiled ruefully. “The bubble I was living in? I think it burst.”

“Can't say that's a bad thing. Sometimes getting out of your comfort zone is good.”

“It is,” Loch agreed. The conversation felt woefully . . . inadequate. Like he was skirting around the real issue. He decided to take a chance. “The real reason I came back . . . the girl I mentioned? I messed it up. I came back because I wanted to make it right with her.”

Rex pocketed a stack of napkins. “You didn't tell her the truth, did you?”

“Nope.” He felt sick, and the smell of greasy food just made it worse.

“Thought you could get away with it?”

“Yeah. I was pretty wrong about that, it seems.” Loch sighed and took a sip of his drink. “Wrong about a lot of things. I didn't realize how much she meant to me until I lost her.”

“Happens that way with a lot of women.”

That didn't make him feel better. “I need her back. I'm nothing without her.”

“Nice words, but I imagine she'll have a say in the matter.”

She would. He thought of Taylor's hurt, angry face, the tears she'd wept when she'd realized he was using her. His stomach knotted all over again. “I imagine she will. But if I can fix it, I want to give it a try. I want to fix what I broke with her. And I want to fix what's wrong with me. I'm tired of being dependent on everyone else. I'm going to stand on my own two feet for a while. Get a house, figure out what I want to do with my life, the works.”

Rex nodded slowly. “I'm proud of you. Takes balls to admit when you're wrong.”

Strangely enough, Rex's praise felt good. “Thanks. I want to help you, too.”

“Oh?” The man's tone became distant, wary.

“Not charity,” Loch said quickly. “I want to help you get on your feet because you've been a good friend to me and I'd do that for any of my friends. I don't want anything out of it other than to help you. Tell me what you need.”

Rex grunted and took a long drink of his soda, emptying the glass down to the ice. He shook it at the waitress, then looked over at Loch. “I don't need anything other than a friend, Loch Ness. I'm not into handouts.”

“Really? Because you take my handouts every time I come by.”

Rex snorted with laughter. “Turning the tables on me? I like it! All right. Fair enough. Maybe it's not the handouts as much as I don't like being beholden to anyone. You know the feeling.”

“I do. Very much so.” Loch rubbed his chin, thinking. “What do you like to do? For a living?”

“Why? You offering me a job? You don't even have one.”

“Humor me.”

Rex was silent for a long moment, then glanced over at Loch. “Grew up on a farm. I like horses. Cattle. Things like that. Working with my hands.” His smile grew thin. “Good luck finding me that here in the city.”

“Actually . . .” Loch grinned and clapped a hand on Rex's back. “Did I mention I'm purchasing a house here? And probably a few horses? I could use a man to look after my stables once I get settled.”

Rex's bushy brows drew together. He scratched at his beard. “Why are you so fired up to hire a fuckin' hobo? For all you know, I murdered someone and got out of prison and that's why I'm on the street.”

“Did you?”

“No. But there probably ain't gorgeous stuff on my background check, if you know what I'm saying.”

“Then I'll pay you like shit. Room and board and minimum wage or some other equally terrible deal if it'll make you feel better.” Loch sipped his drink again, waiting for Rex to mull over the offer. “It's not charity. I'm going to hire someone to look after my horses because I love riding. Might as well be you unless you can give me a good reason for it not to be you. I like to hire friends.”

Rex's mouth pursed. He stared ahead for a long time. Then slowly, he nodded. “Thanks, man. I . . . I appreciate it.” He looked over at Loch. “You gonna go around saving every hobo in New York? That's gonna end up being some big-ass house.”

“No, but I imagine I'll need a groundskeeper and a few other staff if you have any friends that are struggling. You can tell them the pay is wretched but it's room and board included. And it probably won't be in the city. I can't see having horses close to here. Might be too far out for most to bother with.”