A Feast of You

by Sorcha Grace

  I guess I hadn’t been quiet enough, because William squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Catherine. We’ll get out of there early if you want.”

  He bent and kissed me, and I leaned into him, giving his mouth better access to me. His lips grazed mine, brushing over them and nipping softly. He ignited a slow burn that flared hotter when his tongue traced the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. I loved that, no matter what was going on with us, our attraction was undeniable. I opened for him, and he entered, exploring slowly and thoroughly. My headache and my sense of everything around us faded away. There was only the two of us, our mouths pressed together and our bodies seeking each other’s warmth.

  William pulled back, his hand tilting my chin up as he looked deep into my eyes. “We’ll definitely have to leave early.”

  I nodded, and he slid his hand to my nape, angling my neck so he could brush his lips against the sensitive skin. Thank goodness I opted for an up-do. His kisses fluttered against me, light as a butterfly’s wings, and I squirmed in my seat as the heat he’d ignited pooled lower and lower. My coat slid from my shoulders, and William’s hands moved up from my waist, lightly brushing over the fabric of my dress until he hit the underside of my breast. I moaned softly and my head fell back. His lips continued their gentle assault, caressing my jawline as his palm found my already hard nipple. The heat of his hand through the red silk only made the peak harder.

  He palmed me, his breath warm on my neck and then sliding to my earlobe. I trembled as his lips pressed to my ear and his fingers closed on my nipple. “Soon you’ll be back in my bed. Under me. Naked.” His fingers worked my nipple, and I felt myself grow wet. My sex was moist and ready, and I was about to take his hand and move it between my legs when William pulled away.

  I blinked, making contact with his stormy eyes for a second. I wanted more, but before I could pull William back, he tugged my coat back onto my shoulders and, looking out the window, said, “We’re here.”

  “Oh.” I shook my head, trying to clear the haze of arousal. Why was it that I couldn’t get enough of this man?

  He took my hand, kissed it lightly, and said, “Later.” His grey eyes met mine. “That’s a promise.”

  * * *

  We’d arrived at a large, three-story brick building with rectangular windows and a sweep of steps leading to the door. The footprint of The Peabody Club was impressive, given how tightly buildings were packed together in this neighborhood. A warm glow emanated from the large windows, and valets stood ready to park the stream of expensive vehicles pulling up outside.

  Anthony jumped out of the SUV and opened the door for William and me. I pulled my coat close around me as William took my elbow and escorted me up the stairs. He held me tightly, as if aware of my shoe concern. Luckily, the club had taken great pains to make sure the steps were clear of snow. The doorman recognized William immediately. “Welcome back, Mr. Lambourne. The event is right upstairs.”

  At the top of a grand staircase, we entered what I could only describe as a ballroom, filled with about a hundred or so people. The cavernous space was all arches and dark, wood-paneled ceilings. It was old school Chicago at its absolute finest. The wood trim gleamed in the dimmed light and, with the snow swirling outside, the large windows that lined the room on one end made it feel like we had walked into a posh snow globe. Several people were lined up at a large mahogany bar not far from the windows, and tuxedoed waiters milled around with silver trays of hors d’oeuvre and glasses of wine. Round tables were scattered throughout, set with white tablecloths and tasteful centerpieces made up of white flowers. My stomach rumbled at the thought of dinner and I realized that it had been a while since I’d eaten. I was suddenly famished.

  My gaze swept the room, and I spotted a photographer taking pictures. He was discreet as he mingled among the guests and paused to pose and then snap his willing subjects. I caught sight of Abigail, who quickly detached herself from a small group and headed toward us. Abigail looked poised and elegant in a classic black Chanel suit accented with a string of pearls, her grey hair swept up in a sleek French twist. Behind her, Charles, in a dark suit, followed.

  Abigail smiled when she reached us. “William. Catherine. It’s so wonderful to see you both. You look lovely, Catherine.” She gave William and then me a quick kiss on the cheek.

  Charles greeted us, holding out his hand to shake William’s and then kissing on the cheek. William squeezed my hand tightly and smiled at me proudly. He looked so happy to see his aunt and uncle greet me warmly. I almost felt like part of the family, and my heart melted. This was what I’d wanted—to be part of William’s world. I loved him, and his family’s acceptance mattered to me.

  Abigail had a flute of champagne and as a waiter with a silver tray passed by, I took a glass of white wine. After our disagreement about the phone and make-out session in the car, I was eager to relax with a drink. William declined, and I noted Charles had a short glass half-full of an amber liquid. Given the choice, I knew that William would have preferred bourbon to wine.

  Charles slapped William on the back. “This man needs a real drink. Come on, William. I’ll get you three fingers at the bar.”

  William squeezed my hand. “Maybe later.”

  “William, go,” I urged him. After the evening we’d had so far, he could probably use a stiff drink. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

  He looked at me with the same intensity he’d had in the car and nodded. “I know. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He kissed me tenderly on the cheek and strode off with his uncle.

  Almost immediately, Abigail smiled at an older couple who approached and introduced themselves as the Van Horns. I shook hands and kept myself busy with my glass of wine as Abigail caught up with them. Their conversation moved to something about the Lyric Opera and I tried hard to look interested and follow along, but between my headache and the few sips of wine on my empty stomach, I wasn’t retaining much.

  As the Van Horns continued to talk, I looked around again and realized that most of the attendees were of Abigail and Charles’s vintage. I started to feel hopelessly out of place and wondered if it showed. Under the Dior dress and the Manolo pumps, I wasn’t fashionable or important. Or sixty.

  The Van Horns moved away, taking their chatter about opera with them, and Abigail said, “I heard you met Zoe this afternoon, Catherine.”

  “Yes, I did. I didn’t know she lived in Oklahoma.” I wasn’t sure what to say about my initial meeting with Zoe. Your daughter was intense and kind of freaked me out and was kind of a total bitch to me seemed wrong. What had Zoe told Abigail about me?

  “She’s here for the shower, of course,” Abigail continued, “but I convinced her to stay two weeks. Not that I’ll see her much. Her training regimen means she keeps long hours at the gym.”

  “You must be proud of her. I’d never even heard of a coxswain—” But before I could finish sucking up to Zoe through her mom, I was interrupted.

  “Abigail? Is that you?”

  William’s aunt turned, and I looked past her to see a young woman approaching. She was in her thirties; had dark, shoulder-length, straight hair; and was thin to the point of gauntness. Her brown eyes dominated her angular face, the muscles of which stretched tight when she smiled. Abigail glanced back at me. She was smiling, but her expression was puzzled. She obviously had no clue who this person was. I smiled too, confused.

  “It’s Elin. Elin Erickson,” the woman said. “How nice to see you this evening.”

  “Oh, Elin.” Abigail’s eyes widened as recognition washed over her face. I couldn’t tell if she was pleased or not, but was glad that she at least knew this person. The moment had been getting awkward.

  “It’s been too long. Look at you.” She gestured to Elin’s slight frame. Did Elin look better or worse than the last time they’d met? Abigail looked Elin up and down, taking in her dark, long-sleeve shift dress, which accented her skinny frame. “How wonderful to see you,” Abigail continued, embracing
Elin lightly. I wasn’t sure what to do. It seemed like Elin and Abigail might want to catch up, but I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. As if reading my mind, Elin turned to me and tilted her head in an And who might you be? way.

  Catching Elin’s pointed look in my direction, Abigail said, “Elin, this is Catherine Kelly, William’s girlfriend. Catherine, this is Elin Erickson. Her late mother was a dear friend of mine and of my sister. We spent many summers together in Lake Geneva when our children were young.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, holding my hand out. Elin looked at it for a moment then stretched her face into a smile that might have seemed genuine from afar, but up close came at me with lifeless eyes. Finally she took my hand and shook with a loose grip. Was she afraid of catching something?

  “You too.”

  Silence descended, and we all gave awkward smiles. I searched for something to say and was relieved when Abigail finally said, “Had I known you were going to be here, Elin, I would have asked the girls to come. I’m sure they’d love to catch up with you.”

  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen them. I ran into Lauren a couple of months ago, but I haven’t seen Zoe or Sarah in so long.”

  “I have the perfect solution to that. Why don’t you come to Lauren’s baby shower? I know she would love to have you.”

  Suddenly my invitation to Saturday’s festivities didn’t seem so special. Apparently Abigail was inviting anyone and everyone.

  Just then the photographer approached. “Can I take a picture, ladies? For Chicago Now.”

  “Oh, of course!” Abigail said. No one moved for a moment, and I was wondering if I should cozy up to Elin for the shot when Elin scooted to the other side of Abigail. It was as though she didn’t want to stand next to me.

  Okay then. I closed the space between Abigail and myself and smiled for the camera. This was definitely turning into a bizarre evening. Or maybe my hunger had me imagining things.

  The camera flashed and I remembered seeing Hutch in the pages of Chicago Now. As the photographer moved away, I said, “Hey, if we make the pages of Chicago Now, I’ll have to send the issue to my mother. She’ll be thrilled.” I laughed and, to my surprise, Elin laughed too.

  “Kind of surreal to see your own face on the same page as a celebrity. Always makes me do a double take.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder how often this happened to Elin, but appreciated that she’d contributed to the conversation. I nodded as the hostility I’d felt a few seconds ago vanished and I became sure I’d imagined it. Maybe Elin wasn’t so bad after all. She might even make a good ally in this social world I kept being pulled into, courtesy of my relationship with William and his billions. Maybe we would be sitting together at dinner tonight.

  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.

  * * *

  We 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 stai
rcase, 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.”

  Ten

  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.