Page 73 of Blue Gold

“You need to teach me how be good wife, Claudia, so I marry good. Like you, okay?”

Elliot’s comments were borderline dangerous, yet my wife seemed drunk enough not to pick up on them. Maybe that was why he risked it to begin with, as he knew she wouldn’t catch up. Still, it didn’t make it any better, and my anger grew with each passing second.

Claudia laughed at Elliot’s “jokes” until she tossed her napkin on the table and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, boys, I must go to the restroom. All that wine sure did its thing.” She let out another tipsy giggle and left the table.

I waited until she was far enough before turning my attention to Elliot, who was back to drinking his wine as if he hadn’t just crossed one long, red line of all kinds of things he should have steered clear of—starting with my wife.

“I understand that you’re angry with me, but it doesn’t give you the right to use Claudia as a pawn in this game,” I hissed in French.

Rage crossed his eyes before he slammed his glass on the table. “Oh, so she cannot be a pawn, but I can?” he snarled back, lips curling with each word.

“When have I ever used you as a pawn?”

His eyes went wide.

“You’re serious? Is using me like a sex toy and leaving right after not enough? Or do I need to go back to last summer, where you constantly used me as your masturbation material to get through your pitiful life?”

Shocked and at a loss for words, I gaped at him.

“What’s the matter, Daniel? Cat got your tongue?”

Gritting my teeth, I pointed at him. “It was never like that, and you know it.”

“Really? ’Cause from how fast you left the other night, it sure didn’t seem like it. Not to mention how you ended things on the beach, asshole.” Turning his head so I’d face his cheek, he crossed his arms.

Knowing this wasn’t the place to open up that conversation, I focused on the easiest thing to clarify.

“I said I’d call you.”

“Oh, ’cause men often do,” he huffed.

“I meant it.”

Rolling his eyes, he tsked. “Oh, really?”

Despite the loud music blaring in the background and us speaking French, I still looked around the table to ensure no one was listening to us before frowning back at him.

“Yes. I meant to call. I simply wanted to wait.”

“Until when? Christmas?”

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I sighed. “No, Elliot, not until Christmas, but until you were done with your work. I… I didn’t want you to be distracted during the shows.”

His eyes met mine almost immediately, brows pinched close as a thin line appeared between them. “You didn’t want to distract me?” The muscle in his jaw twitched. “And what was showing up at my hotel room in the middle of the night to fuck me if not a distraction? You think I’ve thought about anything else since?”

Was I pathetic for feeling a bit of joy over him saying that? Sure, he might have screamed at me, but he did admit to thinking about our sex, which was a good thing. I guess?

“Elliot—”

“Don’t Elliot me,” he snarled. “You’re a pig, and I hate you.”

Taken aback, I frowned at him.

“Surely, you don’t actually mean it. Do you?”

It was beyond me how my priorities were reduced to those of a child whenever it involved him. Instead of focusing on the real issue, I cared whether he truly hated me or not.

Elliot narrowed his eyes as he scowled at me, and my pulse increased while I waited for his answer. My need to know what he thought was nearly unbearable, causing my throat to dry out and my skin to sweat underneath my suit⁠—