Mania (Fever Dreams Collection #1)

11. Hazel

Chapter 11

Hazel

I find Maeve in the quiet hotel restaurant, staring out the window, her attention seemingly far, far away from here. Her hand is loosely curled around a cup of coffee, the other propping up her chin.

Even when I’ve stepped up to her table, she doesn’t react or indicate that she’s noticed me standing there. I clear my throat, now feeling awkward and slightly foolish.

At the sound, her eyes slowly slide to meet mine, her expression passive and vaguely morose. I wait for her to say something, but her mouth stays shut, staring at me.

I wave my hand at the empty seat in front of her. “May I?”

She nods.

I sit.

We haven’t talked since we almost?—

That was two nights ago. And aside from watching her through the mirror yesterday morning, she seems to have evaded me until now.

We still have so much to discuss.

Letting her other arm fall, she tightens both hands around her cup of coffee, staring into it as if it’s some kind of wishing well.

“Sleep okay?” I ask, the placidity of my question grating even to my ears.

Her expression falters, and she swallows hard before lifting her gaze, the dark circles under her narrowed eyes almost purple in color. “Did you ?”

I cant my head before speaking, her accusing tone confusing me. “... Meaning?”

I watch a string of emotions filter over her face. Anger. Fear. Distress. Pain … Shame? Until she smooths her expression into something much less severe. Shaking her head, she leans into the booth behind her, her fingers now fidgeting on her lap.

“Never mind,” she mutters, then goes quiet, her attention returning to the window.

Her temperament makes me nervous as if I’m missing a key detail as to why she’s acting so shifty. Drumming my fingers on the table while I mull it over, I say, “We should talk about what happened.”

Her eyes flick back to mine, and she curls into herself as if embarrassed.

I realize she must think I mean … us.

I shift in my seat as I swipe my hand over my face. “I didn’t mean — we don’t need to, uh …” I look up at the ceiling, trying to gather my thoughts, then finally lock eyes with her and blurt out, “Why were you in such distress, Maeve? What happened?”

Her gaze turns vacant as if recalling something that’s now been shoved into the very depths of herself. She avoids eye contact, and I’m now almost certain that it is shame crawling all over her face as she chews on her lips, crossing her arms over her chest.

Still refusing to look directly at me, she mumbles, “Your hotel is haunted.”

Her admission doesn’t surprise me, and the way she delivers it almost makes me want to laugh. But that would be entirely inappropriate—all things considered.

“Maeve,” I say softly. I have the reflex to reach over the table to touch her but clasp my hands together instead. Me calling her by her first name still affects her, and she latches onto my gaze, her mouth falling slightly open. Her reaction stirs something in me but I ignore it, focusing on what’s more important. “Is that what scared you? You saw something?”

Her body language shifts, her shoulders dropping half an inch as if relieved. “You believe me?” she says breathlessly.

I nod solemnly. “There have been ghosts here for as long as I can remember.”

Her eyes widen but then flash in anger. Her arms tighten around her chest. “You didn’t think to warn me?”

A twinge of guilt plucks at my already guilty conscience. I give my hand a small wave as if trying to lessen the severity of our conversation. “I didn’t think it was necessary. Most people are impervious to the phenomena.”

With quick movements, she leans her arms on the table, her hands now close to mine. “You see them too?” I nod. “What about the —” She stops abruptly as if catching herself, giving her head a quick shake, her eyes avoiding mine once again.

My nape prickles.

She’s keeping something from me.

A disquieting sense of jealousy inexplicably tears a cut inside of me, I can almost feel the small trickle of blood it creates as I silently study her.

My eyes dart down to her wrist, a bandage now covering her fresh wound. She notices where my attention has wandered to and covers any proof with her other hand. My gaze swings back up and we stare at each other in silence, tension coiling.

What could she possibly be hiding?

Oh, but I’ll dig and dig and dig.

I have all the time in the world to discover all her secrets.

I can feel my gentlemanly act slip, spurred by this unfounded jealousy. The feeling only seems to magnify the more I think about her not telling me the whole truth. A snarling beast that hates how Maeve is keeping secrets from me. I need all of her—even every single thought inside her pretty little head.

Instead of pressing the subject, I decide to let her stew in her discomfort. To toy with her just how I feel she toys with me—like her newly neglected plaything.

“Tell me, Maeve.” I lean closer, my voice dropping an octave. “Do you not want to admit how much it thrilled you to know how desperately I wanted to fuck you?”

Her breath catches, and she has the reflex to pull back, but I grab both her wrists before she does any such thing.

Her eyes dart furtively to the waitress pouring coffee at a table nearby. “Let me go,” she hisses under her breath.

I smile roguishly. “What’s the matter, dream girl? Worried you’ll be caught being inappropriate with your boss?” I say, keeping my voice close to a whisper.

She tugs on her wrists, but I don’t budge.

Suddenly, there’s a fire burning behind her eyes that makes me start to salivate on the spot. “You won’t be my boss for much longer,” she spits back.

My eyes narrow, my thumb smoothing over the drumming pulse on the underside of her wrist. “And why is that?”

She tugs again and this time, I let her pull away. But instead of curling backward, she places her hands flat on the table and leans closer. Her brows dip in defiance, anger now marring her features. “Do you really think I’ll be staying in this madhouse after you’ve just confirmed that it’s haunted?”

I puff out a dry chuckle. “They’re harmless.”

“That’s your response?” she replies in shock.

My face turns serious. “I can protect you.”

“ Protect me ?” she says in a bewildered tone. She falls silent, a slew of unspoken words racing through her alarmed gaze. “Too late,” she finally says.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

Standing up, she hurries out of the restaurant, but I’m quickly at her heels, following her into one of the hotel corridors.

“Just leave me alone,” she barks from over her shoulder. I ignore her request and grab her arm. Swiveling her around, I push her against the wall.

“Too late,” I say, echoing her earlier words.

Her cheeks pinken, her chest rising up and down quickly. “Is this how you treat all your employees?” There’s a small quiver in her voice and fuck does it sound delicious.

My smile is arrogant as I stroke her heated cheek with the back of my hand. “Only the ones that are desperate for me.”

I don’t miss her pupils dilating, but she stands her ground and keeps her face impassive. “I quit.”

I press my hips into hers, pinning her harder to the wall. “Is that supposed to upset me?” I rasp, “Whether you work for me or not, dream girl, you’re not leaving this hotel anytime soon.”

She shoves me backward with both hands to my chest. I step back, unbothered, slipping my hands into my pockets, a grin on my face.

“Watch me,” she snaps back.

I almost laugh, my behavior is so unlike how I usually carry myself. But there’s something about Maeve that makes me want to give up all my morals and do whatever I wish with her.

“Already am,” I drawl.

Her expression falls as if confused by my response, but seems to decide not to question it before she finally storms away.