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

Chapter 83 | All about Failure

In Macy's horror-movie-enthusiast mind, the allegedly 'haunted' hotels would emerge in deserted lands where it was always midnight and where the wolves howled every once in an hour. There would be a chilly breeze soaring through the cracks and dust as you crept to the lobby, creaking the floorboard with every step. A chandelier would hang from the ceiling like a centerpiece between two spiral staircases that lead to more mysteries. The occasional ivies would embrace its worn-out walls as if trying to sink it down. The shadows that disappeared once you whirled your head in their direction would come as a bonus, and the haunting history could visit you in nightmares as limited content only... if you were the main character.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case here.

A pout adorned her lips, as she lowered her sunglasses and seized the building in front of their car. Located in a vibrant and lively area in a gorgeous town that was twenty-five miles away from the civilization of its city, the infamous Blanchard Hotel still played to the family brand to perfection. Despite its story feeding to the local legends and making the whole place somewhere to stop for see sighting, it looked as if it either refused to accommodate any ghosts or was very selective about them. No, the ghosts who stayed here must have some fancy standards and formed an elegant after-life community, and at this point, Macy was a bit concerned that they would judge her ripped jeans and blue corset.

The cute brick houses and colorful shops were just a gate and a cobblestone circular driveway away, making the whole town look as if it was actually a giant kingdom where the stoned Blanchard Hotel was its castle.

"If you actually have a title, it is time for you to share it with me," Macy grumbled, pushing her sunglasses back on her nose. "I hate the concept of royalty, but I won't be mad."

"Wouldn't you rather earn that secret?" Gerard inquired mockingly, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

"I can't promise not to get mad while winning it," she muttered, sending him a sidelong look he'd missed as he scrambled to take out his phone.

"Maybe I like you mad," the villain murmured absently as if the sentence left his mouth instinctively, not noticing the smirk he got bloom on her mouth.

"Just when I'm mad?" Macy joked, shifting on the passenger seat to turn to him fully.

She could see him raising an eyebrow under his aviator sunglasses, and she knew she drew his pure attention back from his phone as a dangerous smirk teased the corner of his mouth. His thumb grazed the phone screen, and he muttered with a challenging edge in his low voice, "So far, I've seen you fail at only one thing, Miss Wallace."

Her eyebrows knitted together in amused bafflement, and she jerked an inch back at the random allegation. "And I've seen you fail at a few things, sir," she couldn't help but retorted back. "But tell me. What have I failed at?"

The affront in her voice made his smirk deepen tantalizingly, and for a moment he'd just stared at her, placing his phone on the dashboard as if whatever he was about to do with it wasn't as important as this meaningless bickering.

Macy blamed the golden rays of the sun creaking through the window, and the indie rock playing on the radio for the funny flip her heart did through the anticipation for his answer. Foxy must have been very curious about what lie he was about to come up with too because he peeked his head from his fluffy blue dog seat attached to the backseat, taking a break from chewing a plush toy.

"You don't have an answer," Macy theorized, her eyebrows raising in amused triumph, "Because I don't fail."

"No, you don't," the villain admitted, tilting his head as he absently reached for a golden wave of her hair dropping across her chest. "Usually," he emphasized, earning a scandalized look from her.