A Feast of You
event.
    William and I were on our way to The Peabody Club, one of Chicago’s most elegant and exclusive private clubs. Of course it was—everything in William’s world was elegant and exclusive and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying getting to know this side of life. So far my relationship with the Windy City’s hottest bachelor had taken me to galas at the Art Institute and The Peninsula Chicago, to a Napa estate, and to a private island. Every day with this man was truly an adventure.
    The club was only a short distance from William’s penthouse and we should have arrived already, but the weather wasn’t cooperating and we were at a standstill thanks to a rush-hour snow shower. These people spent half the year in snow, but it felt like every snowfall caught Chicago drivers by surprise. I was glad that it was Anthony behind the wheel since I had never been a fan of stop-and-go traffic.
    Outside, the wind was fierce, rocking the car with every gust as the snow swirled silently to the ground. Even though the heat in the SUV was set to the perfect temperature, I shivered. This was the perfect kind of night for my beloved black cashmere turtleneck dress, but Beckett had banished it to the back of my closet, an area he’d dubbed “Never Never Land,” as in never to be worn, ever. So tonight I was freezing my ass off for fashion. Beckett would be so proud.
    I had on my warmest wool coat and under it, I wore a simple, red silk crepe Dior dress that tapered at the waist and was accented with a folded neckline. My hair was swept back in a messy up-do I’d copied from a post on one of my favorite blogs. It was hard to recreate the twists, but I thought I did okay. My makeup was pretty neutral with just a hint of lip gloss and mascara and some shimmery eye shadow. I was aiming for a funky-cool-chic vibe that would fit with Abigail’s friends, but wouldn’t be too stuffy. I’d know soon enough if I hit the mark.
    I was also wearing new ankle-strap black Manolo Blahnik pumps. The dress and the shoes were courtesy of a little shopping excursion William and I had taken before Valentine’s Day. I’d loved the shoes in the store, and had been excited to strut my stuff in them, but as I eyed the snow falling outside, I prayed I wouldn’t slip when we exited. Maybe Anthony could carry me up the stairs to the club? I silently giggled at the thought. How did these society women do it, always dressed to the nines in sky-high heels? Maybe there was a trade secret I’d be let in on one day, but I doubted it involved a hidden pair of Nikes.
    I shivered again and hoped The Peabody cranked the heat as well, since my silk dress was pretty flimsy. Looking over at William, I smiled at the dashing figure he cut even in the dimness of the streetlights. He wore a dark grey suit with a crisp white shirt and a pale blue tie. When he’d put it on, I couldn’t help but notice how the tie made his stormy eyes look a dreamy blue.
    The car was full of tension. I was determined not to let that get in the way of this evening’s dinner. I wanted Abigail to like me and I wanted to make a good impression, which meant any strain between her nephew and me needed to be undetectable. I glanced at William for what was probably the hundredth time. He didn’t seem pissed, more like he was on high alert. Our eyes met, and he stared at me, taking me in intently, like I might disappear at any second. He’d been looking at me that way for the past hour. His entire body was wound tight, almost vibrating. I think he’d said maybe three words to me since we got in the car.
    I wished, again, that I hadn’t lost my phone. William had acted like I’d intentionally kept the fact that it was missing from him, but people lost their phones every day. I was still so flustered by the darkroom incident—every time I thought about it too long that panicky feeling came flooding back, bringing me to the edge of tears—I wasn’t even thinking of my phone. The

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