Page 14 of The Haunted Hotel
“Didn’t we all,” Rosie mumbles.
I nod. “To be fair, I also really wanted to dance with David Bowie.”
“Was there a reason to this conversation? Because the Christmas decorations still need to be taken down and put away.”
“Yes there is! You will never guess what just happened!” I say excitedly.
“You knocked over Brad again?” she says, shrugging when I stare at her. “I heard the clatter but honestly, we’ve all done it so many times now, it’s hardly exciting news. Plus, now we know about the ghosts, we have the added bonus of Brad being able to put himself back together.”
“Sir Devron,” I correct. “You know he hates to be called Brad.”
“Fine, Sir Devon.”
“Devron.”
“Whatever.” She shakes her head.
“Anyway.” I wave my hand and change the subject. “No, that wasn’t what I came to tell you. We have a new guest.”
“We do?” She blinks. “A paying guest?”
“Well, no. Maybe?” I frown. “I’m not actually sure.”
“Ellis.” She sighs. “You can’t just let people stay here for free. It’s fine if you want to upgrade them, but not charging them isn’t going to keep the creditors from shutting this place down.”
“I know that, but this isn’t any old guest.” I practically dance on the spot. “His name is Morgan and he’s really dreamy, and older than me, although I don’t know how old, but he’s bloody gorgeous and really strong. He didn’t even break a sweat when he caught me.”
“Caught you? Bloody hell, Ellis, what have you been up to now?”
“I fell off the Christmas tree.”
She stares at me.
“Okay, not the actual Christmas tree, the ladder. Then he caught me, then he put me down, and then I tripped over the lights and he picked me up off the floor.”
“So let me get this straight. A gorgeous older man caught you when you fell off the ladder, then picked you up off the floor when you tripped over the lights, so you decided to give him a free room for the night?” she asks, her brow furrowed in confusion.
“I don’t know how long he’s staying, but he’s Mr Ashton-Drake’s grandson!”
“What?” Rosie’s frown becomes more pronounced. “How do you know he’s Mr Ashton-Drake’s grandson?”
“Well, he said so,” I answer. “And his name is Morgan Ashton-Drake.”
“Didn’t you ask to see some ID or other proof? How do we even know he’s telling the truth? It could be a scam. Especially after everything that’s happened recently. He could be an undercover reporter, out to expose the hotel and us.”
“Expose us for what exactly? Have you been watching Netflix documentaries again?” I ask suspiciously.
“That’s not the point.” She shakes her head. “These are valid concerns. You’re too sweet and trusting for your own good, Ellis,” she says, her eyes filled with affection and her voice laced with exasperation.
“And you’re too mistrustful. And a little prickly.”
“That’s why we’re best friends. We balance each other out.” Rosie smiles. “But my point still stands. Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that we’ve both worked here for over a decade and there’s been no mention of a grandson at all? How do we know he is who he says he is?”
“It’s not like we can demand a DNA test.” I roll my eyes. “And I’m not surprised Mr Ashton-Drake doesn’t talk about hisfamily. We both know how hard his son’s death was for him. Besides, he has lots of photos in his room.”
“That means nothing.” Rosie sighs. “I’m just saying I don’t want someone coming along and upsetting Mr Ashton-Drake. He’s been through enough. I don’t know who this stranger is or what he wants. Why’s he here? And why now?”
I shrug. “He just said he was here to visit his grandfather.”