Page 9 of Blue Gold

“No, no, of course you don’t look older.”

What was I even doing here? He was practically a child.

“I’ll be twenty in the summer,” Elliot went on before he slid into the empty chair in front of me. “How old are you?”

Embarrassed, I swallowed hard. “Thirty-three.”

“Aww, that’s young.” With both elbows on the table, he leaned on his palms. “Your clothes and driver made me think you’re a bit older, though.”

Not older, just old. Way too old to be even looking at him.

“You’re very handsome, too,” he added in a by-the-way comment, and startled, I stared back at him.

Even though I knew I looked good, with rich brown hair I'd inherited from Mother and bright gray eyes that often got me compliments, I wasn’t used to men pointing it out. And not just men—him. Elliot. The most beautiful human being I’d ever laid my eyes on.

“Thank you,” I said, keeping my expression composed.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled, his eyes still studying me.

Being under his stare made me feel exposed. Almost vulnerable. It was odd since he knew nothing about me. And while it scared me, in a way, there was also a part of me that wished he’d continue to doing so until there was nothing left, and he’d see me for what I was.

“Didn’t you promise me a dinner?” I asked, and he jumped back to his feet.

“Oh, God! I’d almost forgotten.” The sound of laughter I’d already associated with him followed his words. “I’d better get started, hmm?” He half turned to walk away but stopped with his lips pursed. “You stay here and drink until I’m back. Okay?”

Considering his age and my position, I knew that I should come up with an excuse and leave. Nothing good ever came out of playing with fire, and Elliot—with his flirtatious nature and striking looks—was certainly a burning flame. However, as someone who despised the cold, it was nearly impossible for me to resist such alluring heat. And so, instead of doing the right thing, I smiled back at him.

“Okay.”

3

DANIEL

I was lost tracking the raindrops sliding down the window when Elliot finally returned to the table, carrying plates in each hand.

“Et voilà, foie gras.”

He spoke as if reading a poem while placing the food before me. The plate looked like something that should be in a museum, with the foie gras being the main theme, laid on a rich sauce next to a half pear cooked in wine and square brioche, slightly toasted.

“This looks delicious,” I told Elliot, who sat down in the chair before me.

“Let’s hope it tastes as good as it looks.”

“Oh, I have no doubt it will,” I said, and I was right. Only it didn’t just taste good. It tasted amazing. Probably the best bite I’d ever had.

“This is divine,” I groaned, mouth full, already taking more on my fork.

“You need to taste it all together. Here.” He grabbed a piece of toast and put a bit of the sauce and foie gras on top with a slice of pear. “Taste.”

He commanded, and like a fool, I opened my mouth and allowed him to feed me. At that moment, I didn’t care about the couple sitting behind us or the owner of the place cleaning glasses by the bar, as my eyes were locked with his, and he was all that I saw.

“How is it?” he asked, his lips holding back an impatient smile.

My throat tightened as a shiver ran down my spine. At the same time, a pleasant feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, which I associated with the way he just licked his lips. My attraction to him was so palpable it could almost be an extra guest around the table.

I took a deep breath and cleaned my lips with a napkin before holding his stare again. “It’s amazing. I can’t wait for the next course.”

Or seven more courses, as Elliot seemed to go overboard with this dinner. And while it was a lot of food, way more than what I was used to eating, I finished every plate he placed before me. The joy on his face at seeing the clean plate was worthy of being too full, and by the time we shared the best crème brûlée I’d ever had, we were deep into conversation.