Page 5 of Blue Gold

Absolutely not.

“Yes.”

His expression relaxed as a big smile coated his lips. “That’s amazing. Thank you.”

My chest tightened with pride, and pleased about making him smile, I grabbed my umbrella from the bucket and opened the door for him.

Elliot glanced at me before he stepped outside, only to be hit with strong winds that made him take a step back and bump against me.

“Are you okay?” I asked, leaning a bit closer.

Our faces were suddenly an inch apart, and I noticed his eyes held a bit of purple in them.

“Y-yes.” His breath shuddered before a faint blush painted his cheeks red.

I didn’t know what caused his reaction, the cold or me, but before I could find out, Elliot had already straightened up. He wasn’t a small man. In fact, he was rather tall. But being six foot four, everyone seemed shorter next to me.

I opened the umbrella and smiled at him. “Let’s go.”

We began walking toward the car when Elliot pressed closer to me. I knew it was to hide from the rain, but I didn’t care and instead moved closer to him. There was something oddly romantic about sharing an umbrella, and for a brief second, I allowed myself to think that. But my fantasy ended the second we reached my car, and John opened the door for us.

“Sir?”

“We’re going to Brooklyn,” I told him while watching Elliot climb in.

“Brooklyn?” I could hear the confusion in his voice.

“Yes.”

“What about your father?”

“He can wait,” I said before getting inside the car myself.

“What do you do that you have such a nice car and a driver?” Elliot asked after the car started moving.

“I’m a lawyer.” I should be scolded for how self-satisfied I sounded.

“That’s impressive.”

“Hardly so. If there’s one thing this city doesn’t lack, it’s lawyers and brokers.” My lips curled up. “And too many Nets fans.”

“Nets?” he asked, confused.

I chuckled. “It’s a basketball team.”

“Oh.” He pressed his lips together. “Basketball is not as popular in France.”

I placed my hand on the seat between us as I studied his profile. “Really?”

He nodded.

“Yes.”

“So what’s popular in France?”

He turned to look at me, his eyes filled with excitement. “Football, of course.” He then tapped his lips. “Although you Americans call it by a different name.”

“Soccer,” I said in English, a hint of a smile on my lips.