A Feast of You (13 page)

William seemed to sense my fear because he said, “I don’t want to scare you, but we have to take this seriously. George is working with the FBI, and until this is resolved to my satisfaction, I’m not taking any chances.
You’re
not taking any chances.”

“What does that mean? What exactly is going on?” If we were going to talk about this, I needed to know everything.

William nodded and released my hand, moving to the oven to stir the risotto. “We should discuss it all. I’ll cook while I talk or the risotto will get clumpy.”

“Okay.” I hopped up on the counter, crossed my arms, and, needing something to do with my hands, popped an olive in my mouth. It was delicious, of course.

I watched William roll his shoulders the way a boxer does before entering the ring. I sincerely hoped he wasn’t preparing for a fight because I didn’t have one in me tonight.

His voice was steady and even. “The first time I learned about the plane wreckage in Alaska was the night of our date at the Art Institute. Our first date.” He tasted the risotto and sprinkled some salt into the pot. “That was the call I received in the car. After that call, I was reeling and I know I was an asshole to you. When you left, I worried I’d completely blown my chances with you.” He looked at me and grinned, clearly pleased I was in his kitchen, in his life, now.

I remembered how Minerva had let him in to my condo the next night and he’d surprised me with homemade bucatini with Bolognese sauce to make up for that disastrous first date. But this was the first time I’d heard about that phone call.

“About two weeks later, I received a package at my office with a letter stating that my brother Wyatt was alive, and that, for ten million dollars, I could be reunited with him.”

My jaw dropped as William went back to stirring the risotto. I couldn’t believe all of this had been going on behind the scenes and I had been so totally unaware.

“As I told you, we’ve received a lot of these over the years. They’re usually just ploys to get money, and George makes them go away, but this one...this one was different.” He shook his head as though he was remembering it. “Whoever sent this one knew about the plane wreckage that had been found in Canada. They knew a lot about it, actually.”

He stopped stirring, his spoon resting in the risotto. “And they knew you and I were together. There were photos and clippings about us. The package arrived via courier, and until my security team could come up with something concrete, I wanted you out of Chicago.” He lifted the spoon, tapped it, and reached for an oven mitt.

“So I took you to Napa,” he said as he pulled the bread from the oven. The top was golden brown and the scent made me dizzy with hunger. “But coincidentally, just after we arrived at Casa di Rosabela, the CTSB finished their analysis of the wreckage in Alaska.” He took a bread knife and began slicing the flaky loaf. “Those pieces had been transported to Whitehorse, and I had one chance to see what the investigators had discovered. I know it seems crazy, but I needed to see what was left of that plane. You understand, right?”

I nodded. Of course I did. At least I thought I did.

“That’s when I went to Canada. I’d planned to fly in, view the pieces, and fly immediately back to California. But, of course, the weather didn’t cooperate.” He gave me a rueful look. “And then you left and went back to Chicago.”

I could mostly fill in the rest, but I waited for him to continue. He didn’t. He set the bread aside and stirred the risotto again. It seemed like I should say something, but I didn’t know what. I’d been blindsided. I knew some of this already, but finally all the pieces were fitting together, and the full picture explained so much—about William and his behavior, his situation and mine. I’d always thought if I knew the whole story, I’d be relieved. Instead, I was scared. I hated that he was still been keeping things from me. Now that we were together, all of this impacted me, too. I hated that he didn’t see it that way. It was a lie by omission, the sort of thing William excelled at.

But I could understand why he’d never put it all together for me before. It was... overwhelming and terrifying and... surreal.

I loved William. I really did. But this was fucked up. And now I felt guilty because at the heart of it all, he’d been worried about
me
, and I hadn’t understood why. I’d thought he was some kind of control freak with a complicated billionaire lifestyle. But that wasn’t it at all—well, that wasn’t
all
of it.

“I’ve told you before,” William said, adding more broth to the risotto. “I don’t want my shit to fuck up your life. I hate that this is happening, and that despite my security team and all of my goddamned money”—he tossed the spoon down and braced his hands on the counter—“it
keeps fucking happening
.” He turned to me. “And I hate that you’ve been pulled into this.”

He crossed to me, put his hands on my waist, and looked at me so earnestly. I could see the plea in the clear blue of his eyes.

“Please. I need you to trust me. Don’t think the worst and run away again. Promise me that you’ll give me a chance to explain before you jump to any conclusions. This
will
be over soon. I love you, and I’ll do whatever is needed to make sure I don’t lose you. To make sure we don’t lose each other.”

I swallowed. It was definitely my turn to say something, to tell him I understood and that I loved him too. To make him a promise. But I was too stunned to speak. He’d never told me so plainly how important I was to him, and even though he wasn’t saying it directly, I understood what he was implying. My life was in danger. And as much as I didn’t
want
to believe it, it was true. I started to open my mouth to say something, to promise him I would always give him a chance, but then he spoke again.

“That envelope you brought over with the proof sheets? That was the last communication we’ve received. There have been no more letters or packages, no more instructions about how to meet Wyatt or where to send the money. Nothing but silence. And the incidents. The incidents started happening to you and, Catherine, I know they’re intentional. They’re threats. My suspicion is that when I got involved in that wreckage and had the pieces sent to France for analysis, I got too close to something. Whoever is behind this isn’t happy about it. But I’m not going to back down. I need to know the truth.” There was anguish in his stormy eyes now, something I had seen too frequently of late, and he turned back to the range to stir the risotto again.

I didn’t speak. Instead I tried to take it all in, to comprehend what it meant for me, for us. I knew how passionate William was and why he was so unrelenting in his efforts to find out what had happened to his brother and his parents in that plane crash almost twenty years ago. He wanted closure for so many reasons, and I understood that. We’d both experienced painful losses and, though it was a terrible commonality, it really did help me understand him sometimes.

But what I didn’t understand, at all, was his refusal to back down now. If he truly believed someone wanted to hurt
me
because he was getting too close to the truth about the plane crash everyone thought was a terrible accident, then why wouldn’t he call it all off? Why put us through this? Why risk
me
?

And then the answer hit me.

Because they meant more to him than I did. He was willing to continue to risk my safety to find the answers that had eluded him since he’d been eleven years old because they were more important than me.

I could feel my heart squeeze in my chest, feel it break just a little. I loved William, and I was certain we belonged together. But I was way less sure that I wanted to be in the middle of whatever this was. This was crazy. For the hundredth time, I wondered why we couldn’t just have a normal relationship. 

“Catherine, I know this is a lot to take in. I need to know you’re okay. Are you okay?” William asked, shaking me out of my thoughts. The truth was I was numb, but I nodded. I needed to sit with all of this for a while.

“Good,” he said and gave me a smile. “Can you open the wine?”

I nodded again and spotted the bottle of cabernet on the counter. It was from William’s vineyard, which meant it would be delicious.

By the time I’d poured, the kitchen was filled with the heady aroma of mushrooms and garlic and the warm crusty bread cooling on the counter. William plated the risotto, tossed the salad, and set everything on the table. We sat down to eat. I still didn’t know what to say. I wanted more time to think.

“This is really delicious,” I began, trying to turn the conversation. “I love mushrooms.”

“I thought you’d like it. Oh, before I forget, I have something for you.” He rose and walked out of the room. I held my breath, uncertain whether to be excited or apprehensive. He returned with a small white shopping bag. “This is for you.”

I peeked in the bag and pulled out a box with a new iPhone.

“It’s already been set up with your old number, and your old contacts, email, and calendar have been restored. We turned on GPS, so we’ll be able to find it if it goes missing.”

I met his gaze. “And you’ll be able to find me, too, right?” I smiled tightly. “You’re kind of scaring me. You know that?”

“Yes, we’ll be able to find you, Catherine. It is scary, but security is being stepped up, and you’ll be fine. You will have to make some adjustments for the time being, but I’ll make it as comfortable for you as possible.” William’s face hardened, and his eyes turned that icy shade of blue that signaled he was not willing to negotiate.

“What kind of adjustments?” I asked slowly.

“I’d like you to work out of the penthouse. Your workspace is already set up, but I’ll get you whatever else you need. It’s no problem.”

I shook my head.
No, no, no
. This wasn’t going to work at all. “I have to meet with my clients. I have a Fresh Market shoot coming up.” I ticked it off on my finger. “And I have to be at Morrison Hotel twice a week until the cookbook project is finished. I signed a contract.”

“We can get you out of that contract. I’ll have Charles take a look at it.”

I held up a hand, stopping him before he could say another word. “I’m not getting out of the contract, William. I want the job. You know how excited I am about it, and Hutch is counting on me. Not to mention, it’s a huge career opportunity. I’m not just going to—to,” I sputtered “walk away from that. Plus, why is my working a problem if Asa drives me and is nearby?”

Instead of answering, William set his fork carefully on the edge of his plate and ran his hands though his hair, tousling it. I loved it when his hair was rumpled like that, and right now I wanted to run my hands through it—then tug it hard and kiss him deeply. I wanted to force him to stop talking about all of this security stuff. I wanted him to make me forget.

I swallowed and sipped my wine. The quick surge of arousal surprised me. I was usually on the edge of coming undone around William, but I hadn’t expected this hit of heat and not right now. I sipped the wine again and watched William thread his fingers through his hair, trying to take control of his frustration.

Finally, he dropped his hands and looked up at me, his eyes still steely but soft around the edges. “We can’t control everyone who goes in and out of Morrison Hotel. Besides the staff, there are produce, liquor, wine, and linen deliverymen there almost every day, not to mention the patrons. It’s a security nightmare. It would be better if you worked out of the penthouse until this is all resolved.”

I bit back a retort, but I was not going to back down. “No,” I said quietly, “No, William. This is my life. I want this job. Am I just supposed to stay here, all day every day, and never leave? What about seeing Beckett? Walking Laird? ”

William sighed, sat back, and crossed his arms. “This building has every possible amenity you—or anyone—could want, and whatever it doesn’t have, I’ll get for you. There’s no reason whatsoever to leave.
Hutch
will understand or be made to understand and can find another photographer. I’m sure you can recommend someone.”

I refrained from throwing my glass of wine in his face, but just barely. My emotions were all over the place. I was scared, pissed, and, frustratingly, very turned on. I wanted to fight. I wanted to tell William to go fuck himself and storm out. I wanted to kiss him hard and force my tongue into his mouth. But I wasn’t the same woman I’d been a month ago. I wasn’t going to let my emotions get the better of me.

I took a few shallow breaths and focused. William was overreacting. I knew it, even if he didn’t. He wasn’t thinking clearly, and I could hardly blame him. He was worried for my safety. That was part of it. The other part was that he was jealous of Hutch. It was strangely charming, under the circumstances. It was also maddening, but how could I not love a man who cared about me this much?

So instead of throwing my wine in his face, I set my fork on the counter and pushed away. I walked to William, who had a wary look on his face, and moved between his legs. He was still on the stool so I was slightly taller than him at the moment. I wrapped my arms around him. “I love that you want to protect me, William. I understand that’s what you’re doing, but you can’t keep me locked up in your tall tower. That’s not realistic for either of us. But I promise we will figure this out. We’ll work out a solution acceptable to both of us. A compromise. But know this, I am not giving up my work. I can’t.”

William pulled me closer and looked up at me. “I won’t lose you, Catherine. I can’t. I just found you.”

I nodded. “You won’t lose me.” I bent and kissed him slowly and deeply. I let my mouth tell him how much I cared and make the promises I hadn’t yet said aloud. “Let me show you. Let’s go back to bed.”

I
asked William to stay in the kitchen and finish his glass of wine so I could get ready. I was making this up as I went along, and when, before I exited the kitchen, I made a quick stop at the giant SubZero and grabbed the can of Reddi-Wip I’d spied on a lower shelf, the expression on William’s face had been priceless. I didn’t know what I was going to do with the whipped cream exactly, but I’d become pretty familiar with creative uses of food in foreplay thanks to Mr.
Pain au Chocolat
.