Page 38 of Be Our Ghost (The Duchess Hotel #2)

Twenty-Eight

Now that Charlie had decided to move out, she wanted to tell Knox as soon as possible.

Preferably in person. All day Monday, she was itching to text him, but she forced herself to wait.

Once he came in to work on Tuesday, she’d seek him out.

She’d also apologize for causing a scene on Saturday night.

At least the incident hadn’t gone viral.

She’d been following coverage of the gala—including stalking Evan and Lila on social media—but she hadn’t seen one mention of Mac Iverson’s unexpected return.

But come Tuesday, she barely had a moment to breathe, let alone send a text.

Wednesday and Thursday were even worse. The hotel was at one hundred percent occupancy, filled with guests who’d booked rooms after learning the Duchess would be featured on an episode of Canada’s Most Haunted .

Thanks to the episode’s teaser, which mentioned the hotel’s haunted storage room, the front desk had received dozens of requests for a “private tour” of the room. So far, Preston had denied them all.

Meanwhile, the Gilded Lily had been so busy Charlie had only crossed paths with Knox twice.

Though he hadn’t seemed angry, he hadn’t lingered to talk to her, either.

Both times, he’d greeted her with a slight smile and a quick “Hey, Charlie,” as if they were acquaintances rather than lovers who’d spent last Friday night in each other’s arms.

Then on Wednesday, he’d sent her a cryptic text:

Sorry for the silence. I’m not mad, I promise. I just need time to work some stuff out. Talk soon.

While his texts were often short and to the point, they usually made sense.

Not this one. What kind of “stuff” was he talking about?

Did it pertain to the two of them? Was he trying to “work out” whether they should stay together?

Maybe after Saturday’s debacle, he’d decided romantic relationships weren’t worth the trouble.

She wanted to ask him more but decided against it. Given that she’d already pushed him over the edge on Saturday night, demanding answers wouldn’t help her case. She needed to trust him and give him space. By next week, they’d have more breathing room to talk things over.

Being patient sucked. But it was better than forcing a confrontation that neither of them had the bandwidth to deal with right now.

On Friday afternoon, she waited at the front desk for the film crew from Canada’s Most Haunted .

When Logan had called her earlier to confirm the logistics, he’d mentioned they’d be arriving between three and four.

The team planned to do a preliminary walk-through of the storage room and get baseline readings, followed by three in-person interviews: Charlie, Celia, and Gertrude.

Charlie had already asked the two women to show up at seven.

When Preston stopped by, Charlie forced a courteous smile on her face. If dealing with needy guests wasn’t bad enough, her boss had also been more demanding than usual. Three times today, he’d reminded her to contact him the minute the film crew showed up.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hargreaves,” she said. “They’re not here yet.”

“I’m aware of that. While you’re waiting, I think you should visit the storage room one more time. I want to make certain it hasn’t been disturbed.”

“I don’t see how that would be possible. No one can get into that room without a key.”

Preston rocked back on his feet. “Well…I might have lent out a key to one of our guests. A VIP with important ties to the hotel’s owners.”

Charlie repressed a groan. “He went up there by himself? Did he get locked in?”

“No. He told me he took a stroll around the room but didn’t get stuck there. He was rather disappointed, even though I warned him it didn’t happen every time. Anyway, I made sure he returned the key.” He took it out of his suit jacket pocket and handed it to her. “Why don’t you go take a peek?”

“Sir, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Preston crossed his arms and stared her down. “It’s not a request, Charlotte. I need you to go up there and make sure everything is in order.”

Given that she’d been on edge all week, she had no desire to worsen her distress by getting locked in a haunted room. “Do you want to come with me? To make sure I don’t get trapped inside?”

“Are you seriously that worried about it?” His voice dripped with condescension. “Just prop the door open. At most, it’ll take you ten minutes.”

Easy for him to say. He’d never gotten stuck there before.

But she knew better than to disobey a direct order.

After asking the front desk clerk to watch out for the film crew, she took the elevator up to the third floor.

She approached the storage room with trepidation, still remembering how tense she’d felt when she and Knox had gotten locked in.

How her initial fear had morphed into despair and then into an abrupt burst of anger.

At least she wouldn’t erupt in another sneezing fit. In anticipation of escorting the ghost hunters up here, she’d taken a preemptive dose of allergy meds.

She unlocked the door and propped it open with an old wooden chair.

While she would have preferred to leave it that way, a passing guest might decide to poke their head in.

Instead, she found an old, musty hardcover and wedged it in the doorjamb before closing the door.

This way, it couldn’t slam shut and lock her in.

Shaking off her nerves, she flicked on the light and made a slow circuit of the room.

As far as she could tell, nothing had been disturbed.

A layer of dust still covered the furniture and the cardboard boxes.

Atop an antique dresser was the wind-up phonograph Knox had noticed before; beside it was a stack of vinyl records in faded brown paper sleeves.

Like last time, the faint scent of rose-scented soap tickled her nose.

But even if there was a stash of hotel soap somewhere in the room, by now, it would have faded. The scent had to be coming from Maeve.

A sudden bang made her pulse race. The door had slammed shut, sending the book flying across the room.

She froze in place, her heart hammering in a frantic rhythm. Was someone playing a prank on her? Or had the ghost trapped her in here again?

“Maeve, is that you?”

No response.

Approaching the door cautiously, she turned the knob. Like last time, it refused to budge. Nor did her key succeed in opening the door.

Damn you, Preston. What was he thinking, sending her up here alone?

Despite the warmth of the room, an icy sensation danced along her spine. She plopped down on the antique settee facing the door. Reaching into her blazer pocket for her phone, she braced herself for the worst.

Just as she suspected. No bars. No Wi-Fi.

“Joke’s on you, Maeve. This time, I’m prepared.” She unclipped the two-way radio from the waistband of her skirt. “I’ve been carrying this sucker around all day.”

She turned it on, but it didn’t light up. Shit . Was Maeve interfering with it? Or had she forgotten to replace the batteries? What with everything going on at the hotel, the second explanation was totally plausible.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she closed her eyes and tried to find a sense of balance. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.

If she didn’t return to her post, Preston would come looking for her. Or the team from Canada’s Most Haunted would arrive and ask to visit the storage room. At that point, someone would bring them here and open the door. All she had to do was wait it out.

Right?

A sense of dread crept over her as she recalled her interview with Gertrude, who’d vacillated between misery and rage during her three hours in captivity. Rather than spiral into a full-blown panic attack, Charlie kept her breaths steady and even.

But her attempt at relaxation was no match for the crushing sadness that engulfed her, like a dark cloud blotting out the sun. With it came a fresh resurgence of guilt.

Admit it, you drove Knox away. You pushed him too hard, and he’s done with you.

No. Maeve’s spirit was preying upon her worst fears.

You saw how beautiful Lila was. How did you think you could compete with her?

It wasn’t a competition. Knox was completely over Lila. Wasn’t he?

You ruined everything, and now it’s too late.

“Stop it!” She felt foolish yelling at an empty room, but she couldn’t think of how else to fight back. “Just because you messed up your chance at love doesn’t mean you have to make everyone else miserable! Why can’t you be a force for good?”

Was it fair to blame these feelings on a ghost? Weren’t they the fears she’d been secretly harboring since Saturday night?

As Maeve’s spirit battered her with negativity, the tears came of their own accord, and she was powerless to stop them. She placed her head in her hands. “I was going to tell him I was in love with him, and now it’s too late. He probably doesn’t even want me anymore.”

As the door creaked open, her spine stiffened. Had Maeve relented?

Knox stood in the doorway, brandishing the other key. “Of course I want you. Nothing about that has changed.”

Her joy at seeing him was chased out by a sudden, vicious anger.

Like someone had flipped a switch, setting her emotions ablaze.

“You’ve barely spoken to me since Saturday!

All you did was send one lousy text! What’s wrong with you!

” She clenched her hands, trying to fight off the fury Maeve was generating inside her. “Stop it! Go away!”

Knox flinched, visibly stricken by her words. He took a step back. “If that’s what you want, I’ll leave. But it’s not safe for you to stay here on your own.”

“No, I didn’t mean you! I meant her . Maeve. I…I just.” Black spots dotted her vision. Knox became a fuzzy blur.

She closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness took hold.