A Feast of You (12 page)

My neck warmed and I turned to see William making his way toward us. I could always sense his presence. Our connection felt primal sometimes. I smiled at him, taking his hand when he held it out to me. “William, I just met a longtime friend of yours.” I gestured to Elin, but she had already walked away. I frowned. That was weird. I totally thought she would want to say hi to William.

“Who was that?” William asked, following my gaze.

“That was Elin Erickson,” Abigail said. “Jack Erickson’s daughter. You remember her, of course.”

I looked to William for confirmation, but before he could answer, a bell rung, signaling that everyone should take their seats for dinner.

* * *

W
e had been standing off to one side of the big room, so William led me back to the tables I had noticed when we’d walked in. They were beautifully set with crystal and silver and illuminated by soft candlelight. On the ceiling, heavy antique chandeliers provided a warm glow, which was perfect for the more intimate setting. I wished I had my camera.

William led me to a table in the back, which surprised me. We weren’t seated with Abigail and Charles, and I felt a pang of disappointment as I watched them move toward the front. I had been looking forward to chatting with Abigail more, but maybe this was for the best. I was starving—without the scrutiny of William’s aunt and uncle, I might not feel as self-conscious as I inhaled my dinner.

Three older couples joined us, and I guessed they were about Hans and Minerva’s age. We shook hands and smiled, making polite introductions. Yes, I was having a wonderful evening. No, I didn’t have a garden. Everyone seemed very nice, but I had a feeling most of the table would be napping after dinner when the lecture started.

William pulled out my chair and we took our seats. Waiters came around offering wine and I chose another glass of white since that’s what I had started the evening with. As the wine was being poured, William leaned toward me and murmured, “Dinner should be good, at least. Abigail and the Board went all out and hired Jane Remington to cater.”

“Who’s that?” I asked. William knew by now that as much as I was trying, I knew very little about the food scene in Chicago—or about fine cuisine in general for that matter. Though I was learning a lot from William, and from Hutch, you could hardly call my palate refined. If someone had come and plopped a plate of cheese fries in front of me, I would have thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

“She’s old guard, but notable,” William explained. “A James Beard winner years ago, and she never disappoints. I’ll have to take you to dinner at her restaurant. It’s out in the western suburbs, but it’s worth the trip.”

I loved to hear William talk about food. It was sweet that a man as busy and powerful as he was still got excited about things like sauces and wine pairings.

“It smells delicious,” I said with a smile. Scents of garlic and spices filled the room and waiters served some neighboring tables with big, silver-domed plates. I watched as a team of eight waiters approached the table next to us and, in unison, put down the plates and removed the domes with dramatic flourish. Their grand service was met with excited
oohs
and
aahs
, which drowned out the loud growls of my stomach. I tried to get a peek at what was being served, but other than the orange of a squash or sweet potato, I wasn’t able to see much. Luckily, it looked like our turn was next.

The waiters approached our table and when a plate was put before me and the dome dramatically lifted, I couldn’t help but smile at the spectacle. I looked at William, eager to share my excitement at this cute production, but noticed that he was looking at my plate with a furrowed brow. I looked down and gasped.

Instead of the beautiful plate of food I was anticipating, my plate held a pile of raw, bloody meat or uncooked...organs. My stomach churned at the sight, and I gripped the table to remain upright.

What was I looking at? A quick glance at William’s plate told me I was the only one with the unappetizing meal. I lifted my gaze to catch William’s, but he was already on his feet, upsetting his own plate and sending his chair toppling over.

“Catherine, don’t touch that,” he said as he followed the waiter who had served me. In a flash, he grabbed the guy and turned him around. “What did you do?” he demanded as he shook him hard. The waiter, who couldn’t have been more than twenty—a kid really—was no match for William, with his powerful physique and barely controlled rage. William’s eyes were blazing and he looked violent. The waiter looked ashen and terrified.

We were in the back of the room, but I could feel all eyes on us. My face grew hot, and I began to shake. The waiter held his hands up in defense and I could tell by the look on his face that he had no idea what William was talking about, but he was scared shitless nonetheless. Whatever happened here had not been the waiter’s doing. William must have realized the same thing because he let go of the guy and came back toward me.

He pulled me from my chair, and I stood on wobbly legs. William held me close. “We need to get you out of here, now,” he growled as he ushered me quickly away from the table and out the door.

Everything was a blur as I struggled to take a deep breath and push the nausea back down. Soon I was somehow sitting in a chair near the top of the grand staircase, then Anthony was beside me with a bottle of cool water. I took it from him and saw that my hands were still shaking.

William, his face red with rage, strode by with Asa. How had Asa arrived so quickly and what was going on?

I watched them—two brawny men, my protectors, my rescuers—take a few steps away from the small crowd and speak in hushed tones. I could only hear a little of their conversation, like “bag the plate” and “fingerprints.” Asa nodded and William turned in my direction. When his eyes found mine, I felt tears well up. My headache was in full force now, and all I wanted to do was get as far away from here as possible.

Sensing my need, William took three steps toward me and slung his suit coat over my shoulder.

“Let’s go home.”

I
woke alone, squinted, and glanced around. I was in the master suite in the penthouse. I remembered coming back here, then William helping me into bed and holding me close until I fell asleep. But he was gone now and I had no idea what time it was. Maybe it was still night. The room was dark, but that might have been because the blinds were closed. I rolled to my side and reached for my phone to check the time, but my hand touched empty space on the nightstand.

I groaned with frustration. I’d forgotten my cell was gone, but now it all came back to me. My phone, the dinner, all of the horribleness. I reached for the light, flicked it on, and checked my watch. The hands read ten minutes after eleven. In the morning.

Shit
. I’d been sleeping for hours. Someone, probably William, had put a bottle of water on the nightstand, and I sipped from it. I felt like I’d been hit over the head. My limbs were so heavy I had to set the water down. My head was pounding, and the light was only making it worse, so I turned it off and fell back on the pillow.

I had a horrible migraine. I hadn’t had one since right after Jace died. The vague thought that I should probably get up and take something for it crossed my mind, but I couldn’t summon the energy. Instead, I whimpered a little, then rolled over and closed my eyes. I fell back asleep, but it wasn’t a restful sleep. I dreamed of plates of bloody organs and of being trapped in a darkroom, unable to escape.

Hours later, I opened my eyes again and expected to feel my head throbbing. But the pain had finally, thankfully, dissipated. I turned on the light again and checked my watch.
Crap
. It was almost five. I’d slept the entire day, but at least I finally felt better. I obviously needed the rest. I mean, after the events of the last few days, who wouldn’t? Jetting back and forth to the Caribbean for a sex marathon, being locked in my pantry by a mystery intruder, having all eyes on me at a society function thanks to the heaping helping of bloody organs someone decided to serve me for dinner, all the while being shadowed by security and living at my new boyfriend’s multi-million dollar penthouse, kind of under protest.

It was all...exhausting. I threw my arm over my eyes and groaned. No wonder I’d slept for nearly twenty hours.

But I had to get up. I threw back the blankets and stood, then headed to the bathroom for a long, hot shower. I needed all of William’s seven jet showerheads to rub away some of the aches from my limbs. After, I toweled off and threw on yoga pants and a long-sleeve T-shirt. I swiped my hair into a ponytail and padded out of the master suite. I doubted William was home, but I wanted to call him and let him know I was better, so I headed toward his study and the landline.

Laird must have heard me, because he came bounding down the hallway and excitedly slammed against me, almost knocking me over. “Hey, Laird, how’s my good boy?” I scratched behind his ears while his tail thumped against my legs. Outside the huge windows lining the penthouse I could see it was dark and snow was still falling. I shivered and rubbed my hands up and down my arms. It was then that I caught the most amazing smell coming from the opposite end of the penthouse.

Maybe William was home after all.

I changed course and headed toward the kitchen, my stomach growling, registering its protest of my long hours in bed. I was famished.

I found William in front of his state-of-the-art, eight-burner stainless steel range. He was dressed in old jeans and a white T-shirt with a chef-style apron tied around his waist. He looked so cute. I loved seeing him so relaxed and casual.

He turned from the range and smiled at me. “There’s my beautiful girl. You’re finally up.” He pulled me into his arms and held me close. I couldn’t resist resting my head on his chest and reveling in being clasped by his big muscular biceps. I could feel his heart thumping softly, solidly. He was firm, not to mention warm. On top of that, he smelled delicious—a mixture of his usual scent and whatever he was cooking. “I didn’t go into the office today,” he said against my hair. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I glanced up at him. “Thank you.” I hugged him again, hoping he could feel just how grateful I was for his taking care of me.

“Since I was home, Parker sent over some legal documents I needed to sign. I also asked her to bring your mail. It’s on the desk in my study.”

I’d totally forgotten about my empty mailbox after I’d been locked in my darkroom. “Why do you have my mail?”

“Security’s been picking it up and then testing it for safety reasons. I’m afraid it’s been opened, but I assure you, that wasn’t intended as a violation of privacy. We’re just trying to protect you.”

“I know you are.” And I did, but it didn’t mean I didn’t feel violated. When would all of this be over?

“How do you feel now that you’re up?” he asked

“I’m fine, and thanks for letting me sleep. I haven’t slept like that in forever. I just had this killer headache, and I couldn’t seem to shake it.”

“You clearly needed the rest. It’s been a long week for all of us, Catherine. I guess it just finally caught up with you. But now you’re awake, and just in time for dinner.” He gave me one of his dazzling smiles.

As if on cue, my stomach growled. “What are you making, and can I help? I’m starving.”

He chuckled. “I thought comfort food would go over well tonight.” He stepped back and gestured to the oven. “The bread is about done, and I have Kalamata olives and an assortment of cheeses.” He nodded at the platter on the counter. “There’s salad in the fridge, and I have everything to go for a nice mushroom risotto. Plus, I have fresh berries and whipped cream for dessert. And wine, of course.”

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. William frowned. “What’s so funny about mushroom risotto?”

“Nothing. It’s just that your idea of comfort food and my idea of comfort food are vastly different.” It was adorable how sensitive he could be about his food.

“What’s your idea?”

“Mac and cheese or a big burrito smothered in cheese and salsa.” Just thinking about food made my stomach rumble again. I was seriously hungry. I hadn’t eaten since...lunch yesterday because dinner had been...

Oh my God. Dinner last night. It all came back. “William, I am so embarrassed about last night. Please tell me I didn’t ruin Abigail’s event. I don’t know what happened, I—” Truth be told I didn’t know how to finish that thought. What had happened?

But William didn’t wait for me to finish. “Stop.” He grasped my hand. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, and don’t worry about my aunt. She isn’t upset. Just worried. We all are. George is already looking into it.”

“George?” I blinked. And then I knew. “Oh no. You think this is all related, don’t you? The break-in, my phone, last night. Is that possible? Couldn’t last night just have been someone’s idea of a sick joke or...or maybe it was a disgruntled waiter? ”

Even as I said it I knew it wasn’t true. There was coincidence and then...there was this. I couldn’t explain away all the strange things that were happening lately. Not any more.

William was quiet for a long moment. His hand in mine was warm and comforting, and then he squeezed my palm and said pretty much exactly what I was thinking. “If it was just the break-in at your condo, Catherine, or just the darkroom, I’d be willing to chalk it up to a random occurrence. But those two events, plus the theft of your phone, the text,
and
the incident last night. This is all connected, most likely to the pictures we both received and the Wyatt situation.”

He took my other hand. I was glad because I’d started shaking. When he laid it all out like that, it really frightened me. I had tried my best to keep it all at bay and to not lump everything together. I explained the break-in as random, tried to laugh off the security detail, had even managed to convince myself that my phone was in the possession of some klepto high schooler. But when William put it all together, I knew it was more than that.