Page 70 of Blue Gold

“So a lover gave you this necklace? Mind telling us who?” Claudia asked, and I immediately looked at Elliot, a plea in my eyes.

Yes, I’d cheated on her with him, but Claudia didn’t deserve to find out this way. She deserved much more than that. I knew it was hypocritical to think this after betraying her trust, but still. Elliot wasn’t this cruel.

Was he?

In a moment that dragged out forever, he held my stare, and I feared he’d sell me out. But then, just when I was ready for the truth to come out, he let out a soft chuckle.

“I cannot say. You see, she is famous singer, and we no longer lovers. But it is so pretty. Isn’t it?”

I breathed in relief with the lie, just as he brushed a hand over his neck, his fingers stroking the faint bruises I’d left there.

“It’s stunning.” Claudia smiled.

“So ask Daniel to buy you one, too.”

My jaw twitched, and I kept my body still. My heart raced at his blunt indication while Claudia laughed and smacked my chest.

“My Daniel would never. He isn’t romantic enough.”

Putting his elbow on the table, Elliot leaned on his palm, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Who know? Maybe he surprise you.”

My blood pressure spiked with how angry I was, and scared I’d say something out of place, I pressed my lips together before reaching for the menus. “Shouldn’t we order? I’m starving.”

“You know what always make me hungry?”

My jaw tightened at his question, and I clenched the menu harder.

“Elliot—”

“Sex.”

Oh dear Lord.

“How naughty!” Claudia giggled while I cussed under my breath.

“Sérieusement. Great sex… Euh… always make me hungry.” He smirked. “Like the sex I had this week⁠—”

“How about a Caesar salad for an entree?” I cut in.

“Hold on to that thought, dear. I wanna hear more about Elliot’s hookup!” she insisted while I grunted.

“Please. I don’t think it’s appropriate for the table.”

In response, my wife poked her tongue out. “Stop being such a wet blanket.” She dragged her eyes back to Elliot. “He might not look like it, but I promise you he’s not such a prude in bed.”

“I think I can imagine that,” Elliot said, touching the bite mark I’d left on his collarbone.

I tensed in my seat, and so to change the subject, I glanced back at the menu.

“I’m thinking about the veal,” I said.

“I think pig suit you more,” Elliot muttered.

I lowered the menu to glare at him.

“You know it says pork and not pig, don’t you?” I hissed, unable to hold back.

“L’anglais est tellement déroutant.” He shrugged. “English is so… confusioning.”