Page 74 of The Haunted Hotel

“Come with me to New York,” I repeat with more conviction, even though part of me knows he won’t. I can see in the yearning look on his face how much he wants to say yes.

“I can’t,” he whispers, just as I knew he would. “I wish I could, you don’t know how much I wish I could, but I can’t leave them, not now, and even if I could, I don’t have a passport.”

“I don’t?—”

“I know.” Ellis steps into me, his small, lithe body pressing against me. “Just kiss me and say goodbye, Morgan.”

I’m not prepared for the sharp pain in my heart when he rises up on his toes and plants a sweet, lingering kiss to my lips.

“Safe journey,” he whispers.

Not trusting myself to say anything more, I turn around and walk out of the hotel that I’d wanted so badly to hate and ended up loving in a strange way.

I head down the main steps outside, which are slippery with slush and ice. The car is parked in the drive, the door open and the driver waiting to take my luggage, so I hand it off to him without a word.

Sliding into the soft leather seats, I close the door and take one last look up at my ancestral home that’s filled with quirky people I’ve come to care for. My heart gives a dull thud. The driver climbs in and starts the engine, then navigates carefully down the long, freshly cleared driveway to the road beyond.

I’m not sure how long it takes to get to Manchester, but I’m only ten minutes into the journey when my phone rings. Pulling it from my pocket, I see it’s Warren wanting to video chat.

“No need to check in on me. I’m in the car heading towards Manchester, should make the flight with time to spare.”

“You’re in the car? On your way to the airport?” he says, and something in his voice pings on myJesus Christ, fucking Warrenradar.

“Why are you repeating it like that?” I ask suspiciously.

“Oh, you know, no reason.”

“Warren, there’s always a reason with you.”

“Okay, fine.” He gives me a rather toothy grin. “There’s no board meeting, and in the interest of full disclosure, there’s no flight either.”

“What?” I fumble my phone, almost dropping it.

“Surprise!”

I suck in a slow breath and try to rein my temper in, then lean forward and tap the driver on the shoulder. “Excuse me, would you mind pulling over for a minute so I can explain in great detail to my brother all the ways I’m going to murder him when I get home?”

I see the curve of the driver’s cheek as he does what I’ve asked with a polite, “Yes, sir, of course.”

Taking another calming breath, because in this family it’s never too young to start thinking about your blood pressure, I lift my phone and fix my brother with a glare.

“Explain.”

“I was trying to help,” he says quickly. “I mean, this past week I’ve never seen you so relaxed and happy. Fuck, Morgs, you smiled! I haven’t seen that many of your teeth since you got your retainer removed. Whatever is going on in that crazy English manor house is obviously what you need.”

“So you thought you’d drag me from the crazy English manor house and make me drive needlessly to a city seventy miles away to get on a nonexistent plane to attend a nonexistent board meeting because that helps how?”

“I know you, Morgan, and you always overthink everything and get all up in your head. I just thought I’d give you a little nudge in the right direction.”

“I’m still not following your insane thought process.”

“I thought you’d choose not to go if you were faced with the choice.” He shrugs a bit diffidently, and I’m not falling for it. “I figured that, rather than come back to New York, you’d realise how you felt about the little blonde cutie—who I guarantee was the one to put that smile on your face, not some drafty old building—and decide to stay. When I called to tell you to get your ass home, I kinda hoped you’d tell me to fuck off.”

“Fuck off.”

“Too late now.”

“Warren.” I pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the migraine I’m sure is brewing, one whose name is Warren. “Sometimes I don’t know whether to hug you or strangle you.”