Call It Business ( Book 3 of 'Call It' Series )

Chapter 77 | The Forfeit

The Devil's Hour struck for another starry night, promising absolutely nothing good. The crescent moon blinked through the edges of the passing cloud to get her attention, yet all of her boiling frustration remained focused on the view in front of her.

The sea smoothly glistened under the moonlight in contrast to its harsh waves washing over the sandy shore.

On a regular day and an ordinary hour, the beach under the cliff the five-star hotel stood on would be filled with guests enjoying the balmy air. They would climb down the stairs that were carved through the cliff and make their way here. A cocktail bar in the corner would be ready to meet their needs for fruity drinks and light snacks.

At three in the night on a scandalous Saturday Night, when inside of the hotel was more fun than the beach could have ever dreamed to be, it was just lonely, eerie, and empty. Still, with a desperate attempt of a power play, the waves of the sea grew bigger with every harsh hit against the shore to show her that it didn't mind it.

It knew he possessed various dangers and twists that the human mind couldn't possibly guess.

Through the awful loneliness threatening to drown her, Macy forced herself to feel the same as she bent down and seized a flat stone. Her thumb wondered its smooth surface absently as she mindlessly approached her ultimate fear. Hah, what was the worst thing it could possibly do? Summon the Kraken? At least, it would distract her.

Her bare feet dipped in the soft sand, and a salty breeze blew the artless waves of her hair. Her lower lip twisted slightly as she glared down at the waves and tossed the rock at it.

It bounced on the surface once before it got swallowed by the upcoming wave.

An odd number.

She could guess that alright.

Wrapping an arm around herself, she kneeled again to pick another rock. Yet her fingers curled around something else instead: a cone-shaped seashell.

A pout took over her lips, and her empty gaze inspected it carefully to notice it was vacant. Her eyebrows furrowing, she looked around to see if there were others through the glittery light of the moon and the distant light coming from the hotel above her. The corner of his mouth quirked as she blindly felt a few others, collecting them all one by one.

"I didn't know you loved collecting the seashells," a familiarly husky, extremely annoying, and highly stupid voice stated behind her, startling her on her spot, although she was fast to recover after a brief moment of closing her eyes. Not noticing her tense shoulders, he continued, "Isn't that inconvenient for someone who is afraid of the sea?"

She needed to be alone.

Yet, as it ever did, his presence alone was enough to ignite something in her, replacing all the loneliness she'd felt, conquering all the frustration that pooled in her veins.

She wanted to feel empty for a while, not to think.

"I'm not collecting them," Macy mumbled, not glancing over her shoulder and keeping her gaze firmly on the sand to find more seashells. "I used to do," she breathed out involuntarily through the sound of the waves. "Whenever my dad took me on a vacation. I wouldn't swim, but I would," she exhaled sharply, seizing another cone-shaped seashell, "Look for the seashells, and then take them home with me."

The villain hummed a small sound, definitely sensing the bitter and weak tinge in her voice, which caused him to shift his attention there rather than the story she was telling.

"Then, I saw in a documentary that the animals living there are changing their shells as they grow up," she added softly as her fingers moved to another one, leaving a trail in the soft sand. "And to do that, they search for different shells. So, I'm just," she let out a faint chuckle, tossing the small shell on her other palm, "Gathering them all to leave them back to the water so they could all find new homes," she explained.