Page 18 of The Haunted Hotel

I mean, it’s one thing to fake a haunting with a few little mechanically moving objects like the coffee mug on the front desk, which I have to admit was clever, but their marketing strategy is way off. Who in their right mind would pay to stay at ahauntedhotel? Especially when everyone knows ghosts aren’t real… and where the fuck is my towel?

Stalking through the room angrily, I can’t see the damn thing nor any spares anywhere. I stop abruptly and draw in a slow breath through my nose, my eyes closing momentarily as I attempt to wrangle my irritation under control. Furious that someone obviously let themselves into my room to move the furniture, it takes me longer than it should to realise that my luggage is nowhere in sight.

Now I’m completely confused and, to be frank, a little disoriented. Is it a shared bathroom? Have I somehow managed to walk into someone else’s room? That certainly would explain the rearranged furniture and the lack of my luggage.

Grabbing a sheet and yanking it off the bed, I wrap it around me just in case I come face-to-face with another guest or staff person—the latter being more likely, I suspect, given the distinct lack of the former.

I march back into the bathroom and stare in confusion. There are no entry points other than the one I’m currently standing in. The shower door is open, the floor is soaked, and laying in a puddle of soapy water are the shower handle and shampoo caddy. It’s definitely the same bathroom and since there are no other exits, this must be my room.

Clutching the white sheet to me, I walk back into my room and study it intently. Where is my luggage? And why has the furniture been moved—also,how?I wasn’t in the shower that long. Surely I would have heard something? These are heavy pieces, so it would’ve taken more than one person.

What the hell is going on here?

A sudden ringing startles me and I jolt, almost dropping the damn sheet. I recognise the ring tone though—it’s definitely my phone, but where is it? I begin searching, hoping whoever it is doesn’t hang up before I find it. Following the sound, I move towards the wardrobe and search all around the huge thing. I come up empty-handed just as the call ends and silence once again fills the air.

A frustrated breath escapes from me, and I growl loudly into the empty room. A few moments later, the ringing starts up again. Sending up a silent prayer of thanks, I cock my head and see if I can pinpoint the origin of the sound. It seems to be coming from higher up. Dragging a chair over, I climb up and find my phone laying in a pile of dust on top of the wardrobe.

There’s no way it accidentally ended up there. Someone has definitely been in my room and as soon as I find my suitcase and get some clean clothes on, I’ll be giving them a piece of my mind. One that they are not going to like one bit.

Scowling down at my phone, I see my brother’s name and swipe the screen, not realising it’s a video call.

“Hey, big brother,” Warren greets as I climb down from the chair gracelessly, giving him a full view of my makeshift toga as the screen tilts. “Damn, you move fast.” He grins. “I didn’t expect you to have charmed someone into your bed already. Is that why you took so long to answer the phone? And here I am, thinking you’d be catching up on your sleep and taking it easy after that week in Chicago and the flight to England, not balancing some twink on your balls. Who is he? Is he still there?”

“No one,” I growl. “I’m on my own.”

“Taking a little solo pleasure time.” He winks. “Gotcha. I find it helps ease stress and tension too. Do you want me to call back in ten when you’ve got some pants on?”

“That would be helpful if I knew where my pants were,” I grumble.

“What?”

“Never mind.” I sigh. “What do you want, Warren?”

“Can’t a guy just check in with his big brother?”

I stare at the screen and he shrugs. “Fine, I was curious. What’s the place like? Is it like Buckingham Palace? Have you met your grandpa yet? What’s he like?”

“It isn’t even remotely like Buckingham Palace or any other palace for that matter,” I reply. “It’s exactly what I expected, a drafty old property in the middle of nowhere that looks like it hasn’t been updated since the Middle Ages. I’m surprised it has running water.”

His brows rise. “Really?”

“No.” I sigh as I slump down on the side of the bed. “Not really. It’s old and run down. It’s easy to see there’s no money here, and it’s badly in need of renovation. There aren’t any guests and I can’t imagine how they’re even keeping the place open at this point. And that’s just from my first impression.”

“What does your grandpa have to say about it?”

“I haven’t met him yet.” I scowl at him. “I still can’t believe I let you talk me into coming here, Ren.”

“Morgs.” He sighs, the amusement disappearing. “I talked you into it because I think you need this.”

“What I need is to not give the press any more reason to print shit about me. You know how often they love to drag up the fact I wasn’t your dad’s biological son. They had a field day when we both inherited equal shares of the business.”

“Come on, how bad can it be really?” Warren cajoles.

“Trust me, if half the shit they printed about this family is true, there aren’t just a few skeletons in the closet, there’s a whole damn graveyard.”

“Technically, they’re your family,” Warren reminds me.

“You’re my family,” I correct him.