Page 7 of Blue Gold

Oh, cry me a river, Dad. Andrew and Catherine would do anything to make you proud.

“Anyway, make sure to handle your mother’s party.”

I forced a smile. “Of course.”

He seemed satisfied right before he jumped onto the next subject regarding some company he wanted to buy. After going over the details for almost an hour, he finally allowed me to slide in a word.

“Sounds like a good deal. I’ll make sure to draw contracts and handle the necessary bureaucracy,” I told him, already eager to get out of there. Sitting for so long, my ass had practically melted into the leather chair. “I’ll tell Sherry to get all the information from your secretary.”

Father was in the middle of smoking his second cigar when he pointed at me. He coughed out the smoke before an ugly smirk pulled on his mouth. “That Sherry of yours… You sure know how to hire the finest women, son.” He shook his head, lips sealed closed. “At least tell me you’re screwing her?”

His green eyes, different from my gray ones, studied me carefully, almost too eager to hear the dirty details. It was in moments like that I was grateful I looked nothing like him because just now, his words filled me with pure disgust.

“You’re well aware that I’m not.”

He laughed and leaned closer to tap my arm. “You need to learn to live a little, son.” He rose to his feet and fixed his pants while smiling at me. “Speaking of living, I have a woman waiting for me downstairs.”

Of course you do.

“Make sure to take care of the stuff I told you, and call your mother for me, yeah? She misses you very much.”

After pretending to give a shit about Mom, his wife, my dad left to screw one of his many girlfriends. Other than being around my sister’s age, the only thing all those girls he fucked shared was their love for his money. By now, I’d stopped counting the number of affairs he’d had. It might have shocked me the first time I caught him with his pants down, screwing our nanny, when I was nine. Perhaps then, I even felt sorry for Mother. Now, I couldn’t care less. It wasn’t that I was coldhearted, but numb. Apathetic to the parade they called their marriage. Mother knew Father was unfaithful, and she chose to look the other way in order to keep her extravagant lifestyle. Truth be told, all she cared about was her prestigious status in NYC society and her many, many apartments. Not to mention, she had a fair number of her own affairs.

With my father gone, I was finally free to leave this dreadful place that reeked of tobacco and clichés. Wasting no time, I hurried back to my office to finish work. I had a series of meetings lined up, back to back, all the way through the evening. By the time the last person left my office, it was 6:30 p.m. Finally done for the day, I unbuttoned my suit jacket and leaned back with a grunt. I was exhausted—sick and tired of hearing people’s pointless complaints and unnecessary opinions. I was only there to handle their lawsuits, yet every second client felt the need to share their entire life problems with me. For heaven’s sake, I wasn’t a therapist.

Standing up, I walked to the window. With one hand shoved in my trousers pocket and the other leaning against the glass, I gazed outside. After a three-day break, the rain had finally returned, turning the city gray and ugly. I might have hated the rain, but at least it was how I met Elliot.

I work every day of the week except Saturday, and I finish my shift at seven. Please come again so I can thank you with a meal.

My chest tightened with warmth, and I smiled, thinking about how charming he was.

Enough, Daniel!

My eyes snapped open to reality, my reality, in which there was no way I’d see him again. Or so I thought until my stomach growled, and it was enough to put the dangerous idea back on the table. Having skipped lunch, I could use a good meal. Besides, it wasn’t like I had any hidden intentions. I was a man of self-restraint, and he’d only invited me for a meal to repay my kindness and nothing more. If anything, it would be rude to decline such an offer, considering the sincerity with which he invited me. Not to mention, who knew if Elliot was even gay? He was French, for Christ’s sake. Weren’t they all overly affectionate with how they greeted one another with a kiss on the cheek? My many excuses seemed to do the job, and I grabbed my coat and put it on.

Pleasant warmth enveloped me as I stepped inside the small bistro, which was empty except for a couple sitting on a corner table. Soft jazz music played in the background, and appetizing scents filled the room. The small restaurant was as cozy as I’d imagined it to be, with a white tablecloth and a lit candle on each table, the perfect place to dine on such a stormy evening.

I’d just taken off my gloves and coat when an older lady came to greet me.

“A table for one?” she asked, and I noticed her slight accent.

Is she the French owner Elliot had mentioned?

“Yes, please,” I said, and before she could walk me to my table, I stopped her. “Actually, I came to meet Elliot?”

Her brows rose, and she smiled at me. “Did you?”

“Yes.” Why does she sound surprised? “Is he here?”

Her smile grew bigger before she pointed at a table by the window. “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll be back shortly.”

Feeling awkward, I nodded like a moron and watched her walk to the back of the restaurant, where I assumed the kitchen was.

Left alone, I scolded myself for coming here. The way she smiled at me like she could see right through me? I should leave right now, while I still could⁠—

“Daniel?”

I turned at Elliot’s soft voice, and the second I saw him stepping out of the kitchen, a black apron wrapped around his slim waist and a beautiful smile spread on his lips—my thoughts of leaving were as good as gone.