A Feast of You (10 page)

“How hasn’t it?” William said curtly. “Anything else you want to know?”

The whole encounter with Zoe felt kind of like a bomb had gone off. I was struggling to piece together all that had just happened, but one thing Zoe had said stood out. “What exactly did she mean when she said everything is going to change in the fall?” I looked up at William and watched as he ran his hand through his hair yet again.

“I’ll turn thirty this fall, Catherine. In September.”

“And?” When William didn’t reply, I asked, “Why is that a big deal?”

He looked at me and I could tell he was wrestling with how to answer, which started to freak me out. “William, what is it? Just tell me. It can’t be that bad. Thirty’s like the new twenty-five or something, right? It’s not that old.”

William stood up from the couch and begin to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, the image of my lone surfer seeming to peer down at him from above.

“I told you about what happened after the plane crash, about how our house in the city was sold and I went to live with my aunt and uncle in Lake Forest, remember?”

Oh shit, this was serious. William wasn’t comfortable talking about his parents and brother, but of course I remembered what he’d revealed to me so far. William telling me about his difficult childhood was one of the few highlights of our trip to his estate in Napa. I nodded up at him in acknowledgment and held my breath a little. I had no idea where this was going.

“When my parents were officially declared dead, I inherited all of their assets. I wasn’t supposed to be their sole heir, but Wyatt was on the plane with them and I was the only one left. Charles was my father’s attorney and the executor of the estate until I turned eighteen. Then I gained control of a good portion of it.”

“Your inheritance.” That much money and the responsibility that came with it must have been a huge burden at eighteen. William’s Aunt Abigail had implied as much to me a few weeks ago. In that same conversation, she’d told me William had a tender heart and that I should be careful with him. I’d thought about that often and what losing his entire family when he was just a little boy had done to him.

“But not all of it,” he said. “I told you my father was a gifted investor. And truly he was, because he used his inherited wealth and grew it into an enormous portfolio of holdings. So enormous, that I couldn’t possibly have managed all of it until I spent years finishing my education, gaining experience, and learning his business. Charles realized that early on, so a large portion of my inheritance has been held in trust this entire time. When I turn thirty, it will all be released to me.”

I sat in stunned silence. William was already very wealthy. I didn’t exactly know how wealthy but he was probably far better off than my wildest guess. So what exactly did this mean? He was going to be even richer? I looked up at him and could see the hesitation and concern in his stormy eyes as he gazed at me. I’d never really cared about William’s money—I didn’t mind that he was rich, but I didn’t love him because he was. I loved him for him, and the money didn’t matter at all, except when his wealth complicated things.

Which it had.

I saw the look of anguish in his eyes as he waited for me to respond. And I didn’t know what to say. How exactly was I supposed to react to his revelation? I didn’t think William moving up a few places on the Forbes 400 list was going to be that big of a deal, but what did I know? Then it hit me: maybe everything
was
going to change, even what was between us, and he didn’t want to tell me. I could feel my heart speeding up as a wave of panic started to wash over me. “William,” I began, asking slowly and quietly, “how exactly are things going to change?”

He sighed, then walked over and sat next to me on the couch. He took my hand in his and looked directly at me, his expression solemn and his eyes a cool, steady blue. “It means more, Catherine. More money, more responsibility, more visibility. More everything.” His shoulders seemed to slump as he said it, like the addition of a few more billions to his bank account was going to put an impossible weight upon him.

“And that’s a bad thing because?” I asked softly.

His head bowed slightly and I could tell he was considering his answer. “Because I don’t want it,” he almost whispered. “It’s never been what I wanted. Everything I’ve done in my life so far has been expected of me. I wasn’t on that plane so I’m the one who has been expected to carry on the family legacy. Obligation is very different from doing something because you want to.” His voice trailed off, and he cupped my face and softly stroked my cheek. “And I know what I want now.”

He wanted me. I melted and crawled into his lap, needing to be as close to him as possible.

He continued on. “WML Capital Management was my father’s company. Even the Lambourne Foundation isn’t something I created, though finding ways to spend money to make a difference is much more gratifying than finding ways to make more of it. I like that.”

“You like making things. You told me that on our first date.”

William chuckled. I’d finally pulled him out of the melancholy that had set upon us so suddenly.

“I do. I like making champagne and chardonnay and the occasional rosé. And I like making you smile, beautiful girl.” He softly kissed me.

We stayed like that for a few minutes. Me, warmly nestled in his lap and wrapped in his big muscular arms while he kissed me gently, his tongue urging mine to dance with his.

Finally we came up for air and he glanced at his watch. “We should get ready.”

I thought for a moment. “For what?”

“For dinner tonight at The Peabody Club.”

“What dinner?”

William set me off of his lap and gave me a questioning look. “The one I texted you about this morning. You replied OK.” He gestured and went on, “It’s an event for the Botanical Society, which is one of Abigail’s favorite organizations. I know it’s not going to be very entertaining, but I always go with her. She’ll be happy if you’re there with me, and I don’t want to leave you alone. Even with Asa here.”

I stared at him, my heart beginning to thump loudly.

He’d texted me.

And someone had texted him back.

William spread his hands. “You don’t want to go now? I thought you were okay with it.
Are
you okay?” His gaze sharpened. “What’s wrong?” His voice hardened, which I knew was from concern.

My throat was dry, and I tried to swallow before I spoke. “William, I didn’t text you.”

His eyebrows came together, and his body seemed to tense and shift. But he didn’t speak.

“I... can’t find my phone.”

William’s fists clenched and opened, clenched and opened. It was the only sign, other than his eyes, that he was not calm. His eyes had gone an icy blue. When he spoke, his voice was low and quiet. “What do you mean, you can’t find your phone?”

“I don’t know where it is. I’ve checked everywhere, and I can’t find it.”

“
What
?”

I started at his shout.

“You’re just telling me this now?” His face had darkened, and he wasn’t trying to hold back his fury any longer. It wasn’t directed at me and I was sure that all the emotion Zoe had stirred up in him earlier was coming out now, but it was still terrifying. “Catherine, who the fuck has your phone? Who the
fuck
texted me back?”

I shook my head, helpless.

William knelt in front of me, his movements quick and efficient. “When did you have it last?”

I looked away, toward the darkening sky visible through the large windows of the penthouse. “I know I had it at Beckett’s yesterday. But then...”

William grabbed my arm and pulled me up. “Come with me.” He moved so quickly he practically dragged me through the penthouse. He wasn’t at all gentle, which wasn’t like him, and so very different from the tender nurturing he’d shown me just moments ago when I was in his lap.

He yanked me into the study and thrust me into a chair in front of his large desk. “Sit.” He held up a finger. “Don’t move.”

I felt sick as I watched him walk around the desk and lift the house phone. This was the phone that linked to the extensions for security, housekeeping, and the rest. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, or maybe I was just too shocked to comprehend it all. My head pounded. It was like I’d swallowed something heavy and sickly sweet.

After a few moments, I realized William was on the phone with George Graham. Of course he was. George was head of security. I could hear William explaining, using words like “stalker” and “incident.” It was all so surreal. Like it was happening to someone else. It
should
have been happening to someone else. This kind of thing never happened to me.

Why did everything keep going wrong? My eyes stung, but I blinked back the tears. William had enough to worry about without me crying. I took a deep breath, tried to stay calm.

I heard William set the phone down. “George is coming right now. We’ll figure this out.” His voice was level and controlled and so cold it made me shiver. I glanced up at him and saw his expression was the same, chiseled granite. He looked deadly, like a warrior going into battle.

And it was my fault. There was nothing I could do to fix this. My stomach churned and I closed my eyes. What the fuck was happening?

I
stared out the window of the black SUV at the sea of red taillights up and down Michigan Avenue. For once, I was happy to be stuck in traffic. Despite the hot shower I had taken—alone—before heading out for our dinner, I was still tense from the discussion William and I had had over my missing phone. A dull ache was forming at my temples and I wished I’d had the foresight to take some Advil before we left. I usually got headaches after I’d been upset—especially if I cried—and this was no different. I hated that William was mad at me. Even though he was acting like everything was okay between us, I knew it wasn’t.

For the millionth time I racked my brain, trying to figure out what could have happened to my phone. Maybe I’d dropped it on my walk from Beckett’s to the bakery or somewhere along the way from the bakery to my condo. I really hoped that was what had happened. But I also remembered my purse lying open on my kitchen counter, its contents spilling out next to Minerva’s wrapped slices of cake. At the time I’d thought it had been upturned in the commotion of my breaking out of the darkroom. But now I had to face the real possibility that the screwdriver-wielding intruder had taken it after locking me in my converted pantry.

We were stopped at a red light and the acidy taste of bile rose in my throat as I watched shoppers scurrying to escape the cold by heading into Water Tower Place. God, all of this would be so much easier if I had just not gone over to my condo. I was such an idiot. I looked over and caught William staring at me.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine. Just tired,” I said and gave him a reassuring smile. I knew tonight was important to him, and I vowed to make up for my phone fumble by being a great girlfriend to William at Abigail’s event.

William and I were on our way to The Peabody Club, one of Chicago’s most elegant and exclusive private clubs. Of course it was—everything in William’s world was elegant and exclusive and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying getting to know this side of life. So far my relationship with the Windy City’s hottest bachelor had taken me to galas at the Art Institute and The Peninsula Chicago, to a Napa estate, and to a private island. Every day with this man was truly an adventure.

The club was only a short distance from William’s penthouse and we should have arrived already, but the weather wasn’t cooperating and we were at a standstill thanks to a rush-hour snow shower. These people spent half the year in snow, but it felt like every snowfall caught Chicago drivers by surprise. I was glad that it was Anthony behind the wheel since I had never been a fan of stop-and-go traffic.

Outside, the wind was fierce, rocking the car with every gust as the snow swirled silently to the ground. Even though the heat in the SUV was set to the perfect temperature, I shivered. This was the perfect kind of night for my beloved black cashmere turtleneck dress, but Beckett had banished it to the back of my closet, an area he’d dubbed “Never Never Land,” as in never to be worn, ever. So tonight I was freezing my ass off for fashion. Beckett would be so proud.

I had on my warmest wool coat and under it, I wore a simple, red silk crepe Dior dress that tapered at the waist and was accented with a folded neckline. My hair was swept back in a messy up-do I’d copied from a post on one of my favorite blogs. It was hard to recreate the twists, but I thought I did okay. My makeup was pretty neutral with just a hint of lip gloss and mascara and some shimmery eye shadow. I was aiming for a funky-cool-chic vibe that would fit with Abigail’s friends, but wouldn’t be too stuffy. I’d know soon enough if I hit the mark.

I was also wearing new ankle-strap black Manolo Blahnik pumps. The dress and the shoes were courtesy of a little shopping excursion William and I had taken before Valentine’s Day. I’d loved the shoes in the store, and had been excited to strut my stuff in them, but as I eyed the snow falling outside, I prayed I wouldn’t slip when we exited. Maybe Anthony could carry me up the stairs to the club? I silently giggled at the thought. How did these society women do it, always dressed to the nines in sky-high heels? Maybe there was a trade secret I’d be let in on one day, but I doubted it involved a hidden pair of Nikes.

I shivered again and hoped The Peabody cranked the heat as well, since my silk dress was pretty flimsy. Looking over at William, I smiled at the dashing figure he cut even in the dimness of the streetlights. He wore a dark grey suit with a crisp white shirt and a pale blue tie. When he’d put it on, I couldn’t help but notice how the tie made his stormy eyes look a dreamy blue.

The car was full of tension. I was determined not to let that get in the way of this evening’s dinner. I wanted Abigail to like me and I wanted to make a good impression, which meant any strain between her nephew and me needed to be undetectable. I glanced at William for what was probably the hundredth time. He didn’t seem pissed, more like he was on high alert. Our eyes met, and he stared at me, taking me in intently, like I might disappear at any second. He’d been looking at me that way for the past hour. His entire body was wound tight, almost vibrating. I think he’d said maybe three words to me since we got in the car.