A Feast of You by Sorcha Grace

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?

Nine
    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