Chapter 40

Marcus

TWO YEARS AGO

"Explain this again, young man."

Marcus tried not to squirm under the gaze of the three older gentlemen staring down at him. First, the Lord Provost, Angus MacFarlane, an old man with grey hair. Next, Thomas Newton, local celebrity and the oldest living resident in the city, also old with grey hair. Finally, Arnold Heward, this time old and bald , with some big wig job with the council that Marcus didn't understand. "You want to create a walking tour?"

"Yes, Sir," Marcus replied, nodding once. "A ghost tour to be specific."

"I see," Angus said, writing something down. "And you want our backing—"

"Approval," Marcus interrupted. "Approval sounds better."

"Okay, approval." The man looked at him like he was crazy. Marcus couldn't blame him. On the outside, he projected calm confidence. The reality was he could barely support his own legs as he tried to remember everything his dad had taught him about interviews.

"I guess I just don't understand why you need our approval," said Arnold, wrinkling his nose. "There are walking tours aplenty, and I assure you, they didn't ask permission."

"I understand that," Marcus said with a nod. "But I don't want a tour that everyone else is doing. Have you been on those tours?" He asked, not waiting for an answer. "Because I have. And if you'll forgive my language, they're pretty shit.

"Anyone with a basic knowledge of our city's history can throw a few words together and point to the right buildings to make a quick buck. Most of the time, they're not even giving out the right information."

"And you will?" Thomas asked, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "What makes you qualified?"

Marcus shrugged, chewing his lip. "Honestly, I don't have any official qualifications. I just love this city. Born and bred here, and so was my dad before me. He raised me on stories of the wandering drummer and the lady who haunts the pub. Any knowledge I have is self-taught, but when you have a city as rich as ours in history, why wouldn't you soak yourself in that history?

"And as any decent historian would tell you, the best parts are the sordid parts. Sure, the old buildings are magnificent, and they make for a fantastic photo. But the better story is the people who lived inside those buildings.

"The newspaper editor who dug a little too far into a particular story haunting the hotel that once housed her office. The pipe player who they sent down into the catacombs, only to never return. Lady Agnes, who refuses to leave her post behind the bar at her local pub. There's so many stories to tell, so much history to —"

"I think we see your point," Angus said with a small chuckle. Marcus' ears tinted pink. Damn his mouth for running away from him. He always spoke too much. "Clearly you're passionate, young man. So let's talk business. Are you requiring financial assistance?"

"No," Marcus said firmly. "What would you be financing? At most, I'd need something to amplify my voice, but I hardly think I'll have massive crowds to begin with."

"But this is where the confusion lies," Arnold said. "What exactly do you want from us?"

"Exactly what I said," Marcus replied. "The stamp of approval from the three most important men in the city would go a long way. A mention of my tour on the council website, or on the tourist board, with your approval, will give me some legitimacy. I won't be just another walking tour, but the walking tour."

"Ahh, I finally understand," Angus said with a smile. "You want the edge over your competitors. "

"Yes. I really believe in this idea of mine, and I think it could go somewhere really great. Which can only mean good things for the city. But to get that great ending, I need a fantastic beginning."

Marcus fell silent as each man looked down at him, trying to assess if he was worth taking a risk on. He wanted to keep talking, to sell himself until no one could refuse him. But his last sentence felt like a winner, and so he stayed silent, hoping that his little plan would work.

"I say why not," Thomas said finally. "I like you, young man. You clearly have a lot of passion for this."

"I agree," Arnold said with a firm nod. "And really, what do we have to lose by saying yes?"

Two out of three. Marcus didn't dare to breathe as he turned to Angus. It was his opinion that really mattered, after all. He was the most powerful man in the city.

"I think we need to take this tour ourselves," Angus said after a moment. "Just to see what you're offering. But like my comrades, I can't see the harm in giving you a little boost. It could be mutually beneficial to us all."

Marcus barked out a laugh, relief flooding his body. He approached the three men, offering each of them his hand. "Thank you," he said, shaking Angus' hand. "Truly, you don't know what this means to me."

"Oh, I have an inkling, young man. We all wish you the very best of luck. I see great things for you, Marcus. Great things indeed."

PRESENT DAY

"Yes, I understand."

Marcus stared at the ravaged contents of his storage garage, surprised by the genuine pang in his chest. They'd taken everything. The bus he could understand. At least it had value. But why they went for the costumes and tour merchandise, he didn't understand .

Those items held zero value to anyone outside of his company. It didn't make sense for anyone to take them. Not unless this was a personal attack. Given the fact Erica still had not received the signed papers, it very well could be.

"No, that's everything." He forced himself to focus on Erica, who was speaking to the officer called out to the scene. "Really, officer, we can't thank you enough."

"It's nothing, Miss." The officer took some notes, and Marcus drowned out the conversation once more.

Thank God Erica was here. He didn't know what he'd do without her. Once she had seen how useless the robbery had made him, she had taken charge, while all he could do was watch on.

This was pathetic.

It was only stuff , and the level at which this had affected him had taken him by surprise. It felt like a violation. Like someone had come and taken something precious from him, and sullied his property.

And by someone, he meant Alex.

"Marcus, my boy! What has happened here?" Marcus looked over his shoulder as Angus left a car and hurried towards them. For an older gentleman, he was quick on his feet, and in no time, he was by Marcus' side, his shocked eyes surveying the mess.

"What happened?"

"Not what," Erica said, joining them. "But who."

Thank fuck she seemed to be on the same page. Angus took her hand, kissing her cheek in greeting.

"Lovely to see you again, Erica," he said, releasing her. "I only wish it were under better circumstances."

"How did you know to come?" Marcus asked, speaking for the first time since he had first seen the mess of his garage. "The officer hasn't even finished his report."

"You think one of our top tourist attractions gets attacked and I don't find out? Marcus, my boy, I thought you were smarter than that." Angus squeezed his shoulder. "You think you know who did this?"

Erica sighed and shrugged, avoiding Marcus's gaze.

Weird .

She looked embarrassed. Almost ashamed. She didn't think he was blaming her… did she?

"Not the ex-husband?" Angus said, looking between them. "You can't be serious."

"We don't have proof," Erica said. "CCTV only shows a couple of masked, stocky guys. But I can't think of anyone else who'd want to get this personal."

"You don't think it might have been a random act of violence?" Angus asked.

"Had they only taken the bus, I might have believed that," Marcus replied. "But who, aside from the people in this company, has any need for tea-dyed clothing and old fraying wigs? It feels too personal."

"It is personal," Erica insisted. "He's trying to get back at you for the other day."

"And what happened the other day?" Angus asked. "I assume it has something to do with those bruises on your face."

"I can't tell you," Marcus replied. "You could have me arrested."

"He tried blackmailing Alex into signing the divorce papers," Erica said. "He got my brother to record Alex throwing punches at him and threatened to send it to his clients."

"I see." Angus stayed silent for a moment. "Remind me again why you won't let me help you, Erica."

"Because I am determined to do this properly. No favours, just a nice clean divorce."

"Well, I admire you for trying," Angus said. "But clearly your ex didn't receive the memo. And now he's come for what's mine, he's left me no choice."

"I don't understand," Marcus said. "What do you mean come for what's yours?"

"Do you think I care about this business because of a great love for ghost stories, Marcus?" Angus replied, frowning. "Why do you think I have taken such an interest and have spent these last few years so heavily involved in your life?"

Marcus shrugged, glancing at Erica. Angus had shown more interest than the others in his little business venture. But he had always figured it was because it had become quite the money maker.

"My investment has never been about the business, Marcus," Angus said seriously. "From day one when you walked into my office, all nerves and fake confidence, my interest has been in you . I told you that day that you'd do great things. And you did exactly that.

"Then you brought Miss Erica on board and now you both are doing great things." Angus glanced between them, a fierce protectiveness darkening his eyes.

"After you left my office that day, I told Arnold and Thomas you would help boost the economy around here," he said, refocusing on Marcus. "Since then, tourism has seen a sizable increase, and local businesses are reporting higher incomes. Hell, even those poxy walking tours you once scoffed at are upping their game and seeing an increase in popularity. And at the centre of all of this is you and your company."

Marcus could hardly believe what he was hearing, nor just how much Angus believed in him. He swallowed past a lump in his throat as Erica reached for his hand, giving him a comforting squeeze. He met her gaze and drew comfort from her presence.

"Thank you," he said. "But that has nothing to do with me."

"That's where you're wrong," Angus said. "Everyone wants to stay in the hotels where ghosts roam the halls or drink in the pubs where voices whisper to you from the shadows. Hell, even the guards at graveyards are reporting some late-night visitors, trying to find a few spooks. This wouldn't have happened without your stories, Marcus."

"Thank you again," he said, his voice cracking. With an embarrassed chuckle, he took a slow breath. "That really means… well, everything to me."

"We should be thanking you," Angus said, his eyes twinkling as he caught them holding hands. "You have become quite important to me, Marcus. Erica too, for that matter. I may not have known you long, but you have both made an old man happy .

"Which is why I will not stand for anyone attacking you in such a manner."

"So what's the plan?" Erica said, squeezing Marcus' hand once more.

"Let me go talk to the officer," Angus replied. "I just want all the facts before I make any decisions."

Marcus gestured for him to go ahead, exhaling a heavy breath once he was out of earshot. "Can you believe that?" He asked, turning his attention to Erica.

"Oh, absolutely I can," she said with a smile. "I quite like hearing someone talk about you like that. You deserve every word of praise."

"I haven't even really done anything," he said, waving her off. "It was you that made all the changes to the tour—"

"That would have failed had you not already set us up for success." She smiled at him, kissing his cheek. "I won't allow you to talk down about yourself, Marcus. Not now, not ever."

He ran his fingers through her hair, his eyes softening on hers. "You're pretty wonderful, Miss Erica," he said. "I think I need to remind you once again just how wonderful I think you are."

"I can't wait," she said, practically purring the words. "As soon as we're alone—"

"Now, I know you don't like financial handouts," Angus said, rubbing his hand along his jaw, as he walked towards them. Damn him for interrupting what was turning into some enjoyable flirting. "But I think you're going to have to get over it, just this once. You said your ex has money?"

"Yeah," Erica nodded, biting her lip through a smile. Her cheeks tinted pink, looking like he'd caught her doing something she shouldn't. "He has a sizable bank balance."

Angus scoffed, none the wiser as to what had transpired between them. "He's small fry. And he's not the only one that can throw money around.

"No one fucks with those I care about, so if he wants to play dirty, he'd better prepare himself. He may think he's a big shot, but I run this fucking city, and he's just made his way onto my shit list."