Chapter Four: Dinner with the Crawfords
1064 Words
Eleanor stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the soft fabric of her emerald-green dress. It was one of her favorites, the color bringing out the warmth in her pale complexion and the golden flecks in her eyes. She hadn’t worn it in years, but tonight, with the Crawfords’ dinner looming, it had felt like the right choice.
Her fingers trembled as she adjusted the delicate gold chain around her neck, the pendant resting just above her collarbone. She wanted to look perfect, even if she didn’t know why.
Was it for the Crawfords? For William? Or was it for herself—a small rebellion against the part of her that felt invisible?
William’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“Ready?” he called from the hall.
She turned, finding him standing in the doorway. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his tie perfectly knotted. For a moment, the sight of him took her breath away. He looked as he had when they first met—commanding, confident, and devastatingly handsome.
But then his gaze swept over her, and the moment shattered. His eyes lingered just long enough to feel like an appraisal, his expression unreadable.
“You look… nice,” he said, his tone clipped.
Eleanor forced a smile, swallowing the sting of his words. “Thank you.”
He stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on her waist as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. The gesture was almost affectionate, but there was a tension in his touch that made her skin prickle.
“Shall we?” he said, offering his arm.
Eleanor hesitated for a moment before taking it, the warmth of his body unnerving against her own. As they walked down the stairs and out to the waiting car, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was heading into the lion’s den.
---
The Crawfords’ home was grand and opulent, every detail carefully curated to impress. Eleanor felt out of place as they stepped inside, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
“William, Eleanor!” Martha Crawford greeted them with open arms, her bright red lipstick and sparkling jewelry making her look like a character from an old Hollywood film. “So lovely to see you both.”
“Likewise,” William said smoothly, his charm on full display as he kissed Martha’s cheek.
Eleanor forced herself to smile as she accepted Martha’s embrace. Behind her, she could feel William’s presence like a shadow, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back.
The evening unfolded in a blur of polite conversation and clinking glasses. William was the perfect host, his smile dazzling as he entertained the Crawfords with stories and wit.
But Eleanor’s mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t stop thinking about the photographs she had found in his office, the strange note he had left her, the way his touch seemed both tender and possessive.
It wasn’t until dinner was served that she realized she hadn’t seen William glance at another woman all night. His focus remained fixed on her, his gaze lingering in a way that made her stomach flutter with a mix of unease and something else she didn’t want to name.
---
After dessert, the Crawfords suggested a little dancing.
“Oh, come on, Eleanor,” Martha said, pulling her to her feet. “You can’t let William have all the fun.”
Before Eleanor could protest, William was standing beside her, his hand outstretched.
“Shall we?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.
She hesitated, her heart racing. But then his fingers closed around hers, and she found herself being led to the center of the room.
The music was soft and slow, the kind of tune meant for intimate moments. William pulled her close, his hand resting firmly on her waist as they swayed together.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
“I’m just tired,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Is that all?”
She glanced up at him, her eyes searching his face. There was something different about him tonight, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. His touch was gentle, his movements unhurried.
“You’ve been on my mind, Eleanor,” he said, his lips brushing against her temple.
Her breath hitched, her pulse quickening. “Have I?”
“Always,” he said, his voice a soft rumble.
For a moment, she let herself believe him. She let herself get lost in the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of their dance. It was like stepping back in time, to when things between them had been simple and good.
But then she caught sight of someone watching them from across the room.
A man, tall and lean, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes.
Her heart skipped a beat as their gazes locked, the intensity in his eyes sending a shiver down her spine. She didn’t recognize him, but there was something about him that felt… familiar.
“Eleanor,” William said, his voice snapping her back to the present. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, her eyes darting back to the man. But he was gone, lost in the sea of guests.
---
As they drove home, Eleanor couldn’t stop thinking about the stranger. Who was he? And why had he looked at her like that?
William’s hand rested on her thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the fabric of her dress.
“You seemed distracted tonight,” he said, his tone casual.
“Just tired,” she said again, her voice tight. Never revealing too much, she hoped. Though her body language, stiff as a board, fear and pleasure all in one, would give her away.
He hummed softly, his fingers tightening slightly on her leg. “You should get some rest.”
Eleanor nodded, but rest was the last thing on her mind.
**
Cliffhanger for the next chaoter:
Later that night, Eleanor wakes to the sound of footsteps in the garden. She peers out the window, her heart pounding as she spots the same man from the party standing among the roses.
When she blinks, he’s gone, leaving her to wonder if she had imagined him—or if her life was unraveling in ways she couldn’t yet understand.
- Writer
