A Feast of You

by Sorcha Grace

  Once the grand tour was done and we had settled in the living room, I fetched the hors d’oeuvre and freshened our glasses of champagne, then settled in for some girl time. The antipasti platter was on the coffee table along with a beautiful arrangement of fragrant pink roses. Rajesh had taken care of the flowers too. I’d turned on the fireplace and a few lamps around the room. I’d figured out the penthouse’s central sound system and strains of Coldplay’s latest were playing from some hidden speakers. I’d even rearranged the books on the console table and grabbed a grey cashmere throw from William’s study to drape artfully on the back of one of the chairs. The overall effect was of a warm and comfortable salon, a perfect place for sharing drinks and conversation with my friends. Laird was curled up in front of the fireplace, no doubt enjoying the warmth.

  “Let me get this straight. You’re dating William Lambourne? The guy in the magazines? The billionaire? That’s your William?” Dana’s questions were coming fast and furious now that the initial shock of my new digs had lessened.

  “The one and the same,” I replied. “But he only likes me to call him a billionaire when we’re in bed.” I put on my best serious face, but I doubted I was fooling anybody.

  Dana’s mouth hung open as she stared at me, but Allison let out a huge guffaw.

  “You’re hilarious, Cat. I bet you guys do it on huge piles of hundred dollar bills too,” Allison chuckled.

  “That doesn’t sound very comfortable,” Dana said, which only made us all erupt into a huge fit of laughter.

  We hadn’t even finished the first bottle of champagne—WML, of course—but already we were giggly and giddy. I couldn’t stop smiling and I was so happy I’d decided to invite them over.

  “Seriously, Cat. Why didn’t you say something about him and about all of this? You love him, right?” Allison always understood me, and it felt so good to finally let her and Dana in on my life. It reminded me, too, that there was happiness underneath all the drama.

  “I do love him. And he loves me. It’s all pretty new, but so far, so good. Though it has been a little...overwhelming.” I could feel the blush rising in my cheeks.

  Yes, I did love William. Truly. Madly. Deeply. Somehow, telling my girlfriends made it sink in in a new way and I felt like shouting it from the rooftops. Catherine Kelly loves William Lambourne. I glanced down at my Patek Philippe and tried to do the quick math to figure out what time it was in Japan. I hadn’t heard from William all day and I couldn’t remember how many hours ahead or behind or whatever Kyoto was. The champagne wasn’t helping. I missed him terribly and wished he was here so I could finally introduce him to my friends.

  “It must be going pretty well if you’re already living together,” Dana observed.

  “Technically I’m just staying here for a little while. We’re not officially living together.”

  “What are you officially doing then? From the look of the closet in that amazing master suite, you’re living here.”

  Dana wasn’t going to let this go, but before I could answer, Allison shot her a look and chimed in reassuringly. “It’s okay, Cat. There’s no rulebook for falling in love or for moving in together. If it feels right, it feels right. We’re just so happy you’re happy.”

  I took a deep breath and exhaled, then gulped down a big swig of champagne. I was happy, but I needed to tell them the truth. Holding it all in was one of the reasons I’d been feeling so out of control lately. I’d told Beckett everything and that had felt good. Allison and Dana were my other closest friends in Chicago and now I wanted their support too.

  “I’m staying here for security reasons,” I blurted out.

  Allison and Dana both looked at me, totally dumbstruck, like I had just dropped a bomb. I had, I guessed.

  So then I explained everything and they did exactly what good friends were supposed to do and exactly what I needed: they listened. They didn’t judge or ask too many questions or demand explanations. Fueled by a refill of champagne and by missing my man, I became more emotional as my story of how I came to be the princess in William’s castle went on, and more protective of William too. He had asked me early on to trust him and I realized, as I described our whirlwind relationship and then the threats, how much I did trust him now—implicitly. I liked him taking care of me and though I knew we still struggled over his controlling ways, I’d never doubted his intentions. Ever.

  Just as I was finishing recounting the dinner incident at The Peabody Club, Asa appeared in the living room. “Excuse me, Miss Kelly? The car has been pulled around. We should get going if you’re going to make your reservation.” Asa, in his black suit, looked tall and more formidable than ever against the backdrop of the stark white walls.

  “Okay, we’ll just finish up here. We’ll be ready in a sec,” I replied.

  “Very good. I’ll meet you ladies in the foyer with your coats.” He gave us a dazzling smile then turned and walked away.

  “What was that?” Allison asked. I noticed her face was flushed and she was alternating between taking little swigs of champagne and glancing at the doorway where Asa had just stood.

  “You mean who,” I replied. “That’s Asa Singer. He’s my bodyguard and he goes pretty much everywhere with me these days.” That included going to Morrison Hotel with us tonight. Anthony had picked up Dana, then Allison, in the SUV and brought them to the penthouse. He’d be behind the wheel again to take us to the restaurant, but Asa would be standing guard inside Morrison Hotel throughout our meal.

  “I wouldn’t mind having a man like that follow me everywhere. God, those shoulders,” Allison said longingly. Then she turned to me, a concerned expression on her face. “It’s that bad, Cat? You really need personal protection?” She looked genuinely worried for my safety.

  I didn’t want to admit that, yes, it was that bad or that I was incredibly grateful for all of William’s security measures. I didn’t want to think about why the security was needed in the first place. I tapped down the panicky feeling that started to rise in my throat. I was not going to lose my shit tonight, so I plastered on a big smile and grabbed Allison’s hand. “Let me tell you some more about Asa,” I said teasingly. “He might be just your type. For starters, he’s single.”

  “Where are we going anyway? You never told us!” Dana broke in before I had a chance to start filling Allison in on all of Asa’s attributes.

  “Morrison Hotel. It’s in the South Loop and you’re going to love it, I promise.”

  * * *

  While we were in the car, William called. Allison and Dana watched as I slid my finger across the screen of my phone and held it to my ear.

  “Hey, baby,” I said. “What time is it there?”

  “Eleven in the morning. Tomorrow. What are you up to?” William sounded tired and jetlagged. I wondered how many Xanax he’d had to take to make it through the long flight. Hopefully he’d been able to sleep.

  “I’m in the back of your SUV with Allison and Dana and we’re going to dinner. And don’t worry. Anthony and Asa are with us.” I deliberately didn’t mentioned Morrison Hotel. The last thing I needed was William getting jealous and paranoid on the other side of the world.

  “I’m glad you’re getting some time with your girlfriends.”

  “Me too. I still miss you, though.”

  “I miss you too. I’ll see you soon, beautiful girl. Be good tonight, okay?”

  “I will. I love you,” I said quietly.

  “I love you too, Catherine. I’ll call you tomorrow between meetings.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  Just hearing his voice made me feel warm and tingly inside. He’d barely been gone a day and I missed him so much already. He was such a huge part of my life now and it scared me to realize how large the hole was that he left when we weren’t together. And then I couldn’t help but be reminded of Jace.

  * * *

  Leave it to Hutch to elevate cocktails to the same level as his incredible food. I’d eaten at Morrison Hotel plenty
of times—in fact, it seemed like I was always eating at Morrison Hotel these days, which was part of the reason I was ready to graduate up a D cup. But this was the first time I’d actually dined at Hutch’s signature restaurant and it was a totally new experience. It really was cooking as theater, just like Hutch had explained at our first meeting. I looked around at the tables filled with diners. Everyone was excitedly waiting for the show to begin.

  Once we were seated, Shane, Hutch’s blond and very tall head bartender (who I’d dubbed Eric Northman’s twin), personally presented us with the cocktail menu and then went into his spiel about freshly sourced organic ingredients and Hutch’s philosophy of “mixology” that played out in his state-of-the-art kitchen night after night.

  Dana, Allison, and I were more than impressed and I was reminded again of how lucky I was to land the gig photographing Hutch’s cookbook. Morrison Hotel was a world-renowned temple of culinary exceptionalness, where every cocktail flavor and every garnish was hand-selected by Hutch as a part of his overall vision. His attention to detail was staggering and I loved that he equally valued tradition and innovation. And rock-and-roll.

  Allison immediately ordered a Faithfull, which was made with tea, fresh ginger, and bourbon. Dana decided to try the Silk Upholstered Chair, a vodka drink with muddled cucumber, orange, and ginger. Despite the crazy names and the over-the-top presentations, the cocktails were delicious.

  “So, what should we celebrate?” I asked Allison when she had sipped her cocktail then raised the glass for a toast.

  “To a night without children.”

  We clinked glasses and all started talking at once. With a laugh, Dana said, “Allison, you go first. Tell us how you’ve been.”

  We’d finished the first course, a jambalaya featuring the Tasso I had watched Hutch and Angie smoke in the alley, and Dana was telling us about a roof leak she’d had to deal with when I spotted Hutch making his way toward us. He stopped at every table to greet his customers, but his gaze was on me.

  “Who is that?” Allison whispered.

  “Hutch Morrison. The Morrison of Morrison Hotel.”

  “You didn’t tell us he was hot.”

  I grinned and shushed her just as Hutch reached us.

  “Miss Catherine.”

  I rose and gave him a hug. Hutch hugged me back and sat down next to me in the booth, slinging his arm across the back of the banquette. “And who are these beautiful ladies? I think you’ve been holding out on me, darlin’. You didn’t tell me you had such gorgeous friends.”

  “This is Allison, and Dana.” I pointed to each in turn.

  “Welcome to Morrison Hotel. How’d you like everything so far?”

  “Delicious,” Dana said, giggling. I gaped at her. Matronly, serious Dana was giggling?

  “Good.” Hutch turned his sparkling, thick-lashed, blue eyes on me. “Did Catherine tell you she’s working on a book for me?”

  Allison nodded. “Yes. It sounds like it’s a fabulous project.”

  “That’s because I have a fabulous photographer.” His fingers stroked my shoulder, and even though his flirting didn’t mean anything, I had to take a deep breath. “Catherine is fucking amazing.”

  “Hardly.” I sipped my cocktail, a little uncomfortable with his attention. I wanted to think that Hutch’s interest was harmless, but I knew better. He was charming and great for my ego, but a little dangerous too. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let this get out of hand. “But Hutch is definitely the best chef in Chicago. He’s responsible for at least five of the extra pounds I’m carrying around.”

  Hutch shrugged. “No hardship to cook for a beautiful woman, and it looks like my beignets are going to all the right places.” That shit-eating grin that no woman could resist spread across his face.

  “Sounds like your relationship is a regular love fest,” Allison said, raising her brows and giving me a he-so-likes-you look that reminded me of high school.

  “If only.” Hutch’s fingers stroked down my arm. “Catherine is impervious to my charms.”

  I shrugged. “If only I was impervious to your beignets.”

  Hutch laughed and rose, placing both of his warm hands on my shoulders. “Ladies, if there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask. Enjoy the rest of your dinner.” He bent down and kissed me on the cheek, then whispered in my ear. “You look hot tonight, Kitty Cat.” The heat instantly rose to my face.

  “Thank you,” Allison and Dana chorused.

  Hutch had barely moved to the next table when Dana leaned forward. “Where have you been hiding him? He’s smokin’!”

  “I agree,” Allison said, sipping more of her cocktail. “And he’s totally into you.”

  I laughed uneasily. “Hutch is fun, but I work for him. And I already have a boyfriend, remember?”

  “I wish I had your man problems, Cat.” Allison said. “Maybe someday I’ll find a guy as great as William sounds. Either that or one as hot as Hutch. Or Asa. Seriously, you need to hook me up.”

  We all laughed again. She might have been joking around, but I knew Allison was lonely. She’d been widowed for as long as I had, but she was raising two young children on her own and barely had any time for herself, let alone for pursuing a new relationship. “You’ll find someone, Allison,” I said. “When you’re ready.” Allison was wonderful. She’d fall in love again one day.

  “And on that note,” Allison raised her cocktail, “let’s toast.”

  I raised my glass and Dana followed. “To love,” Dana said. “Past and future.” We clinked our glasses together.

  “Catherine?” I paused in the middle of sipping my drink and turned at the voice behind me. For a moment, I didn’t recognize the woman standing next to our table.

  Oh. “Elin!”

  “I thought that was you. How are you?”

  “I’m good. How are you?” I indicated the empty space in the booth. “Join us.” I didn’t really want Elin Erickson to join us, but I hadn’t forgotten that she’d been my defender at Lauren’s baby shower. I wanted to be nice to her.

  She smiled at me. “Oh no, I wouldn’t think of interrupting your...celebration? Plus, my friends are waiting for me.” She gestured behind her, and I craned my neck to look behind me. I didn’t see any group that looked like it was missing a member of its party, but I really didn’t know Elin or who her friends were.

  “I saw you and just wanted to say hi. This is some restaurant, isn’t it? The food is spectacular.”

  “Yes, it is. We’re really enjoying it.” If she needed to get back to her friends, I wondered why she was drawing out our conversation. Allison and Dana were patiently waiting for Elin to move along so we could continue our meal.

  “I heard you’re working with Hutch Morrison on his new cookbook. That’s impressive. How’s that going?”

  “It’s going fine.” How did she know I was working on Hutch’s project?

  “That’s good to hear. I’m sure you’ll do a great job. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to eating. I’ll see you soon.” She turned and strolled away on high heels and stick-thin legs.

  “Who was that?” Allison asked. “She seemed a little nervous.”

  “Childhood friend of William’s family. She kind of intense, but she’s nice.”

  “Well, someone should teach her some manners,” Dana said. “She didn’t even ask our names. Now, I believe we were in the middle of a toast.”

  “Yes!” We raised our glasses again. “We were toasting to love.”

  We took sips of our drinks and Dana’s eyes widened. “Perfect timing. Unless I’m wrong, here comes the next course!”

  Twenty-Two

  The Webster, in Lincoln Park, was decked out in green for St. Patrick’s Day. William led me through the lobby, past exposed-brick walls, funky round windows, and wrought iron chandeliers. The hotel was a perfect mix of Craftsman chic and classic vintage. Perfectly distressed reclaimed-wood floors lined the lobby, while the check-in desk was made of old dresser fro
nts. The concierge sported a long hipster beard, in contrast to his slim-fit black suit. No doubt he was moonlighting in a bluegrass band.

  “What’s the vibe here? Roaring Twenties or art school studio?” I asked William.

  “Yes.”

  I laughed as he led me to the staircase at the back of the lobby. He’d returned home the night before, weary but flushed with success. The Kyoto deal had closed without much trouble and we’d celebrated with a bottle of WML Champagne, then by falling into bed. William had made love to me with a passion and tenderness that showed he’d missed me as much as I’d missed him. Maybe the break had been good for us. Absence made the heart grow fonder, but, in William’s case, it also made him hungrier for me. I didn’t mind.

  Tonight he looked gorgeous in one of his black Tom Ford suits, sans tie, with a white button-down open at the neck. The slim fit hugged his broad shoulders and the muscles of his chest. An Irish-green pocket square, with a crisp fold and a straight line, was his only festive slash of color. He looked relaxed, but powerful. His hair was longer than usual—he needed a haircut—and he’d swept the waves back off his forehead. I actually liked that dark, tousled look. I couldn’t wait until later, when I could run my fingers through his thick curls and pull his mouth to mine.

  Since it was St. Patrick’s Day, I’d opted for a Carolina Herrera cocktail dress—one that had been included in the wardrobe William had given me in Napa. The top layer was black and gauzy with a splattering of sequins, and it had an emerald green silk chiffon underlay. It was sleeveless, swingy, and sexy, and it fit me beautifully. I’d left my hair down in soft, shiny waves and played up my lips with my favorite scarlet shade.

  I could hear the murmur of voices at the top of the stairs, where the private launch party was being held. I was so thrilled that Beckett was part of this. William opened one side of a rustic-looking double-door and ushered me into a large but cozy room. Like the lobby below, it had vintage details. The floors were dark wood and long, farmhouse tables were scattered throughout. The lighting looked a bit industrial—bare bulbs hanging from brushed bronze pendants—and the tap on the bar appeared to be straight out of an English pub.