Page 22 of Mania

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 itisshame crawling allover 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 coveringher 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 andleans 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.

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