“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 ghastly 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?”