Taylor stared at the message in shock. For a moment, she was irrationally, completely, furiously angry. So it wasn’t that people were actually worried about her health inasmuch as they just wanted her to show up and run raids for them? What about her wants? What about her life? Or did that not matter as long as everyone else online was happy? Her jaw clenched and she fired back an angry message.
HaveANiceTay: Excuse me for getting wounded and not being online for a raid. I’ll try not to injure myself at times it’ll inconvenience everyone else.
Sigmund: You know I didn’t mean it like that.
Sigmund: I’m just passing along the message.
Sigmund: You know I care about you!
Sigmund: You saw my flowers, right?
Sigmund: Tay?
Sigmund: Are you ignoring me?
Sigmund: Come on, Taylor. Don’t do this.
Sigmund: Please don’t be mad at me.
Sigmund: Please. I lose all hope when I think about you not in my life.
Sigmund: That’s why it scares me when you’re not on. What am I going to do if you ever leave?
Sigmund: I don’t think I can survive. . . .
And now she felt worse than ever. She knew it was emotional blackmail, but it was so much easier to cave in than to stand strong against his constant barrage of guilt.
HaveANiceTay: It’s fine, Sig. I’ll try and be on a bit more today. I need to catch up on work first, though.
Sigmund: No problem! Let me know if you need me to run your toon for a bit. I’m happy to help out.
HaveANiceTay: K thx!
She threw a smiley face on so he wouldn’t flip out on her again, and then threw her phone aside. God. She wished she could flush the damn thing down the toilet sometimes. Her belly cramped a protest and she moaned. If life was fair, she wouldn’t have her period while staying with the hottest man ever. People online wouldn’t be nagging her to log in to a game for hours on end, and her boss wouldn’t think she was a flake.
But it was clear that life wasn’t fair.
Taylor sighed. They weren’t the worst problems to have, but they still stressed her out. She needed a vacation, one that didn’t involve anything but a beach, some fruity umbrella drinks, and lots of naps.
Unfortunately, the odds were against that happening in the near future.
Chapter Nine
Loch jogged through the tree-lined paths of Central Park, body sweaty with exertion. After a day of inactivity yesterday, it was good to push himself, and after he’d done one circuit, he started up again. Exercise helped him clear his mind, but even after two rounds of his regular path, he was still thinking.
Taylor had been a little standoffish this morning, but he was still determined to go through with his plan: Marry her as quickly as possible, cock up the succession plans for the anti-Alex fools, and go about his merry way.
It was the right thing to do. Never mind his nagging conscience at deceiving her. It wasn’t truly deceit; he liked her, and he liked sex with her. It just wasn’t going to be a very permanent sort of marriage on his end. After all, it wasn’t like either of them was in love. They’d marry, have a bit of fun together, and when everything quieted down, they’d get a nice, simple divorce.
It was brilliant, really. Everyone back home should be thanking him for his loyalty to the crown.
Mind made up, Loch ended his jog and headed for a vendor selling water bottles. He pulled out a bill and handed it to the man.
The man immediately handed it back. “I can’t break this.”
Loch looked down at the dollar. It was a hundred. “Is it not any good?”
“I don’t take anything bigger than a twenty, buddy.”
“Right.” He dug through his wallet again, found a twenty, and handed it over, then walked away with the bottle.
“You want your change?” the man called after him.
Loch waved a hand, distracted, and continued to walk away. He should call and speak to Franz again. If the man knew what Loch was planning, then perhaps he’d be able to go home a little earlier. He mentally pictured his small villa in the green hills, his horses, the quiet compared to the bustling city around him, the smell of the grass instead of whatever the hell the smell in New York was. Home was definitely appealing. He wondered what Taylor would think of his house. He’d sold the palatial family castle and now lived in a much smaller, Tuscan-style villa that suited him much better. He bet she’d like it, and she’d probably like his horses, too. Maybe he’d get her a horse.
He chugged his water and then pulled out his phone, dialing.
“Franz Bersatz,” the other end answered.
“Yes, this is Loch,” he began. “I’ve an idea.”
“An idea? For what?”
“To take myself out of consideration for the throne. I’m going to marry an American.”
On the other end, the man sputtered. “You . . . you what? You can’t! My lord, think about what you’re doing—”
“I am, actually.” Loch sat back on the park bench, feeling rather pleased with himself. “Thing is, people love a good love story, right? So I show up with my happy bride, we let it leak to the press that it was love at first sight, and everyone thinks I’m a bit of a buffoon, but they don’t want me for the throne any longer, so it doesn’t matter. Everyone’s happy, and I can come home.”
“I really don’t think we have to go to such drastic measures—”
“Not drastic,” Loch assured him. “The girl’s quite nice.” He thought of Taylor and her bouncy breasts. Yeah, quite nice was an understatement. Being temporarily married to her wouldn’t be a chore in the slightest.