Billionaire on the Loose

by Jessica Clare

  Enthusiastically, she began to suck, taking him deeper into her mouth, and as she did, his balls tightened and he felt his entire body tense, ready to let go. “Slow down,” he breathed. “I won’t last—”

  In response, she sucked harder. He felt her take him deeper, felt the head of his cock hit the back of her throat, felt her tighten convulsively around him. Ah, fuck.

  He came a few brief moments later, flooding her sweet mouth with his release.

  When she sat up, she delicately wiped the corners of her lips and gave him a self-satisfied look. “Definitely regretting this last week.”

  “No regrets,” he told her, and pulled her against him because he liked the feel of her soft body against his. She went into his arms willingly, snuggling against his chest. “Let’s just enjoy the moment.”

  Taylor sighed, the sound one of contentment. “Sometimes I wish all moments were like this one.”

  Sometimes he did, too.

  Chapter Ten

  The next day

  Griffin V: I’m back in town, cousin. Shall we meet up for lunch? Catch up? I’d love for you to meet my fiancée.

  Loch: Sounds great. We have a lot to talk about. Today? Tomorrow?

  Griffin V: I think I have a few hours today if you’re available and I can get Maylee to clear her schedule. Maybe dinner instead of lunch?

  Loch: Sounds good. Name the time and place—my afternoon is open.

  Loch strolled into the ritzy seafood restaurant a few hours later, alone. He’d wanted to bring Taylor with him, but she’d been busily catching up on tickets for her job and had a conference call with her boss later that afternoon. She’d seemed genuinely disappointed not to be able to go out, though, and so he’d promised to bring her back something delicious to eat and that they’d have a repeat of yesterday’s make-out session tonight, cuddled on the couch together.

  Sounded like a good evening to him, and her eyes had lit up at the suggestion.

  He was looking forward to seeing his cousin Griffin again, though. Their schedules constantly seemed to be out of sync in the past few years. They’d caught up at Alex’s wedding, but Griffin had been distracted and his schedule full of business obligations. At the time, Loch had thought his cousin staid and boring with his constant need to work, but now he envied Griffin. The man was never bored, and he was successful, far more than Loch, who didn’t know what to do with himself most times.

  He was starting to learn that keeping a steady diet of obligations was not such a bad thing after all. Better late than never, he supposed.

  Loch scanned the small restaurant and its sea of tiny, white-cloth-covered tables. A hand raised in the air and Loch waved back. Sure enough, there was his cousin, looking like he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time Loch had seen him. Elegant, a bit austere, his hair was carefully brushed into a short, no-nonsense haircut and he wore a pair of wire-framed glasses on his immaculately shaven face. He wore a gray suit and matching tie, and stood up as Loch approached. Next to him was a woman who Loch vaguely remembered seeing at Alex’s wedding—short, a tumbleweed of white-blonde curly hair, and a big smile. She was also wearing the ugliest suit he’d ever seen.

  “Cousin,” Griffin said, extending a hand to shake.

  “Lord have mercy,” the woman who surely had to be Maylee declared in a drawl. “They sure do grow ’em big back in Bellissime, don’t they? You look like you’ve been corn-fed all your life.”

  “Thank you, I think?” Loch pulled the woman in for a hug, even as Griffin chuckled. “I’m going to assume that’s a compliment.”

  “You should!” Maylee beamed up at him, and he liked her, despite her eccentric-looking clothing and the frizzy, wild mop of her hair. She looked sweet and unassuming, the perfect sort of person for his too-starchy cousin.

  They sat down and exchanged small talk for a while, and it was good to just chitchat about casual, small things as a waitress brought them drinks and they ordered.

  “So how are you liking New York?” Griffin asked, leaning back. His arm went to the back of Maylee’s chair and he began to toy with one of the corkscrew curls, as if he couldn’t resist touching his fiancée.

  “I wasn’t too keen on it at first, but it’s growing on me,” Loch told him, and was surprised to realize it was true. He’d been so focused on going home that he hadn’t allowed himself to relax and enjoy what the city had to offer. “It’s been a definite change for me. I didn’t bring any of my staff, you know.”

  Griffin’s eyebrows went up. “No one?”

  “They wanted to stay home in Bellissime, and I’m here indefinitely, so . . .” He shrugged. “It’s been a learning process.”

  Maylee laughed. “I can’t imagine Griffin without someone to tell him where his clothes are. He’d be as helpless as a baby.”

  “He’s not the only one,” Loch said, a rueful grin on his face. “Like I said, it’s definitely been a learning process. I think it’s good, though. I need to learn to be more independent. Being here alone made me realize how much I depend on others to do things for me.” He snapped his fingers. “Which reminds me. I need to call my accountant and see how much money I have.”

  Griffin’s brows drew together into a fierce frown. “Seriously, Loch? You don’t know how much money you have?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve always had someone handle it.”

  “Yes, but you don’t have the faintest?” Griffin shook his head. “What about all those investments I set up for you a few years ago? How are those doing?”

  He shrugged again. “You see my problem? I’ve been living in a bit of a bubble and it’s time for me to take charge.”

  “Might want to start taking charge of your bank accounts,” Griffin muttered, and Maylee put a hand on his arm. “Sorry. I’m just sensitive about money and family. You do know that the crown was almost bankrupt ten years ago? I had to work hard to get the queen to invest and play the stock market. Even now, I still worry that I’m going to turn around and everyone in the family’s going to be on the verge of bankruptcy again.”

  “It’s fine, sugar,” Maylee murmured, patting his arm. “They’re adults. They can manage their own money.”

  “Like this one?” He gestured at Loch and leaned in. “Care to guess how much is in your account?”

  Loch rubbed his mouth. “Couple million?”

  “Dear god, I hope not, considering you sold the delle Scogliere castle for two hundred million several years ago.”

  Had he? He knew he’d gotten a decent price from some insanely rich Saudi prince, but he hadn’t thought too much of it. “Then it must be more. I’m going to find out tonight. Promise. I’ll call my accountant the moment we get out of here.”

  Griffin raised a hand and gestured at Loch while looking at Maylee. “This is why I worry, love. Royalty has no concept of money.”

  She gave them both a bright smile. “Then it’s a good thing Griffin’s looking out for all y’all. Let’s not argue, all right?”

  Griffin tilted his head, studying Loch. “At any rate, I’m glad you’re here. It’s good to see family on this side of the pond, given that most aren’t inclined to leave Europe.”

  Loch’s smile was thin. “I wasn’t given much of a choice.”

  “No, you weren’t, were you? Bad business, all that.” Griffin shook his head. “I’m glad I’m not even being considered for any of that nonsense. I’d rather have my Maylee than the throne any day of the week.” He glanced over at his fiancée again and his gaze got soft, even as Maylee’s face turned a fiery red and she played with the napkin on her lap, smiling.

  “Well, you’ll be pleased to know I intend to pull myself out of the running in a very similar fashion,” Loch said. Seeing his cousin Griffin with Maylee was making him miss Taylor, oddly enough. It was clear that Griff loved Maylee. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, even though she was wearing a gh
astly plaid dress that was probably several years out of style. It was also very clear to Loch as to why Maylee was not considered an “appropriate” spouse to most of the Bellissime people. She embodied everything they disliked about Americans—her southern drawl, her loud clothing. And that really wasn’t fair, because she was clearly sweetness personified.

  Loch suspected the Bellissime people would dislike his Taylor just as much for her quirkiness and her nerdy hobbies . . . and he felt a surge of satisfaction at the thought. Good. Let them be snobs. They wouldn’t know what they were missing out on.

  “What do you mean?” Griffin asked, drawing Loch’s thoughts back to the conversation.

  “It’s clear that the unhappy parties object to marriages to foreigners, notably Americans. Therefore, I’m going to marry an American woman myself,” Loch said proudly.

  “You what?” Griffin’s brows went up, and an equally startled look flashed across Maylee’s expressive face.

  Loch grinned. “I’m getting married.”

  “To whom?”

  “You don’t know her. I met her when I came here, through Gretchen.”

  Griffin sputtered. “You’ve only been here a few weeks. That’s not enough time to know anyone long enough to marry.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not going to be a real marriage. It’s all part of my plan to disqualify myself from the throne. We’ll get it annulled or some such after a few years.” He shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

  Maylee gave him an appalled look. “And she’s willing to go along with this? To have a fake marriage?”

  He grimaced and set his drink down. “I should clarify. It’ll be a real marriage with marriage benefits and such . . . it just won’t be a lasting one.”

  “And she’s fine with this?” Maylee prompted again.

  Loch shrugged. “I don’t see why she wouldn’t be. A lot of marriages don’t last for very long.”

  The couple exchanged worried looks.

  “So . . . you’re marrying someone who doesn’t know that you’re just marrying her to disqualify yourself?” Griffin asked.

  They made it sound so very mercenary. “I happen to like her quite a bit, too,” he said defensively. “She’s a great girl and fun to be around.”

  “This sounds risky,” Griffin told him, frowning.

  “I’ll have my lawyers draw up a very firm prenuptial agreement. It’ll be fair, but protect my assets. Will that make you happy, cousin?”

  Griffin snorted. “I would be if you even knew what assets you were protecting.”

  Loch grinned. “At any rate, I haven’t even proposed yet. Haven’t found the right time and place to escalate the relationship from its current level.”

  “Ask her to move in,” Maylee prompted. “And then tell her you want to make an honest woman out of her.”

  “She’s actually been staying in my hotel room with me for the last week or so, so that wouldn’t work.” He didn’t mention the part where he’d thrown out the marriage thing and Taylor had completely ignored his flippant suggestion.

  “Buy her something expensive,” Maylee began.

  “Darling,” Griffin said. “Let’s not encourage him into more bad ideas? I still think the entire thing is a ticking time bomb of poor choices.”

  Maylee raised a blonde brow at her fiancé, then looked over at Loch. “Take her on a vacation. Change up the scenery.”

  Now that idea had merit. Get Taylor away from her laptop and her endless barrage of text messages and emails that she had to answer at all hours from both guild-mates and work? Get her some time to unwind and relax, seduce her—that was his favorite part of the idea—and then mention making things permanent. Somewhere tropical would be nice. He raised his glass to Maylee. “I can see why my cousin’s marrying you.”

  “Back off, Casanova,” Griffin said. “She’s mine. Find yourself another American girl to woo.”

  Maylee just grinned and linked her fingers in Griffin’s.

  ***

  After the dinner with his cousin and Maylee, Loch headed down to a bakery a few blocks away from the hotel and got a few sweets for Taylor. She’d eaten all the marshmallows out of the cereal he’d gotten her and all of the candy out of the minibar. His American had a bit of a sweet tooth, so he picked up several different confections that were lavished in frosting and coated with candy bits, sure they would please her.

  When he got back to his hotel room, though, Taylor was curled up on the couch in a ball, tears streaking down her face. He set down the baked goods and dashed across the room to her side. “What’s wrong? Are you all right? Is it your ankle? Your head?” He touched a hand to her brow, where the stitches still peeked out from her hairline.

  She sat up slowly, miserable tears streaking down her face. “I got fired.”

  “You what?” Loch sat down on the couch next to her and pulled her into his arms. She went, burying her face against his chest and starting to cry anew. He felt . . . fuck, he felt helpless in the face of her unhappiness. He was a good-time guy, and his friends were easygoing wealthy types. He didn’t know how to comfort someone who’d just lost a job. He stroked her hair, letting her cry for a minute. “What happened?”

  Taylor sniffed, her fingers twisting in his shirt. “My boss said they wanted to have a call to discuss some departmental changes with me. So I logged on to the conference call and it was him . . . and someone from Human Resources. He said my performance had been slipping and that I was late all the time, and I called in a lot. So they decided to let me go.” Her voice broke.

  “Those bastards.” His grip tightened around her. “They’re just being pricks.”

  “The worst part about it is that they’re not.” She sat up and swiped at her face with the back of a hand. “Everything they said? They’re right. I have called in a lot. I am late all the time.”

  “Recently it’s been because of your head—”

  “But that wasn’t the only instance, and I’ve been late several times this week with no excuse.” She gave him a sad look. “Other than spending time with you. And I’ve missed lots of days from needing to be online for stupid guild stuff.” She looked miserable at the thought.

  “So don’t play that silly game so much,” he said gently. “You don’t enjoy it anyhow.”

  To his chagrin, her face crumpled and she started to cry even harder. “You don’t understand. It’s not that I want to, I just . . . It’s complicated.”

  Because of this Sigmund guy that harasses you? he wanted to ask, but if she wasn’t comfortable sharing, he wouldn’t pry. He stroked her shoulder. “What can I do to help?”

  “There’s nothing you can do,” she wept. “I just have to try and find another job somehow. I should go back to my apartment and dig out my old résumé and—”

  “Stay here,” he said swiftly. The thought of her going home and his hotel room returning to its empty loneliness bothered him. Even when she was working, it was nice to have her presence here. They chatted even as she typed, and he was probably part of the reason she’d been fired, because he liked to distract her. “I’ll miss you if you leave.”

  She sniffed and gave him a sad look. “I can’t just hang out with you all day, Loch. I need to find another job—”

  “I’ll hire you,” he volunteered. “How much do you want to make?”

  Her sniffles changed to confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I’ll hire you. You can be my assistant while I’m here.”

  “Do . . . do you need an assistant? I thought you said you were going to try and be more independent?”

  Funny how any thoughts of being independent went out the window the moment she started crying. “I’m sure there’s things you can do for me. You can . . . you can get my laundry for me.”

  “There’s maids that bring it to the room.”

  Oh. He
cast around for another idea. “You can help me pick out an apartment if I’m going to be staying here long-term.”

  “You hire a Realtor to do that.”

  “Taylor,” he chided. He took her hands in his. “Trust me when I say I have lots of need for an assistant, all right? If it’ll make you happier, think of it as a paid companion. I get bored easily and need entertainment, and you can help me with that.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Are we still going to be sleeping together?”

  “God, yes.”

  “Then doesn’t that make me a hooker?”

  He groaned. “Can you stop overanalyzing things? I’ll come up with something for you to do, all right? You need a job, I can give you a job. Do we need to look beyond that?”

  She thought for a moment, then gave him a worried look. “I’d need to make at least twenty an hour to cover my rent and expenses. That’s how much I made at my old job.”

  Yeah, and he’d seen her tiny, ridiculous apartment. “Then I will pay you twenty-five dollars an hour.”

  She gasped, her eyes lighting up. “For just being your friend?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Loch.” She reached out and took his hand in hers. “You realize I’d be your friend for free, right?”

  “Taylor,” he said in the same gentle voice. “You realize I’d give you barrels of money if you’d just stop crying?”

  Her soft chuckle made him feel better. “Can you afford an employee?”

  “Oh, I’m certain of it. I have several of them back home.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You do? I thought you said you sold your manor house.”

  “I did. I have an Italian villa now. I only have . . .” He paused, counting. “Ten servants now.”

  “Ten?”

  “Just the bare minimum,” he assured her.