DANIEL'S POV
I might be gay, but I'd never done much regarding this slight
inconvenience. My experience summed up to a limited number of encounters behind closed doors back in high school and my early college years. They were all brief, yet just enough to confirm what I already knew: I loved men. Or at least, I was attracted to them, as I'd never been in love
before.
Thus far, I'd had no issues with restraining my sexual urges, and on most days, I pushed those thoughts away, as they had no place in my life.
No man had ever stayed in my mind longer than a few hours, and I often found myself annoyed by most people. That was, until last Monday, when I came across a certain Frenchman who hadn't left my mind since. There I was, three days later, still running our conversation over in my head, the pleasant memory not giving me a break.
"Is this where you work?" I asked Elliot once John pulled the car in front of a small bistro. From what I could tell through the heavy rain, the place looked cozy, with a neon Open sign shining over the front door.
"Yes. The owner is French and very nice," he said.
Pressing my lips together, I considered my next move. I knew it was time to say our goodbyes, probably forever, but the greedy part of me wished to steal one more moment from his precious life.
"John, please give us some privacy," I told my driver in English, who got out of the car despite the pouring rain.
Once the door closed behind him, I turned my attention back to Elliot.
"Please tell me you have a proper coat at home." I switched back to French so he would understand.
His lips quirked up into a confident smile. "I do, don't worry. It's just that the sky was blue when I left the house this morning, so I didn't think it would rain."
My brows knitted close because, when thinking about it, I didn't notice the color of the sky, even though I'd had a long run this morning.
"Blue, you say?"
"So blue."
I wondered if it was the same as his eyes. If so, what a shame I didn't look up at the sky.
Silence spread between us until he sighed.
"I should go now, or I'll be late." He rubbed his wrist before looking me straight in the eyes, such a kind expression on his face. "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 dinner."
Warmth flushed through my body at the fresh memory, and I smiled, thinking back on how beautiful he looked just before he'd gotten out of my car. If only I could go there right now…
"For God's sake, Daniel, what are you doing standing over there with that stupid smile?" My father's voice jolted me back, and I looked at where he was standing by the bar. "Come here and pour us both a drink."
We were currently in the lounge of his favorite gentleman's club in the city.
Doing as I was told, I moved over there while he lit himself a cigar. I hated the strong stench yet didn't say a word as I grabbed two glasses and a bottle of scotch. Father's eyes tracked my every move as I placed ice inside the crystal glasses and was ready to pour the—
"Have you lost your mind?" He snapped the bottle from my hand before pushing me aside. "Pouring scotch over ice? What are you, some fairy?" He huffed and grabbed two new glasses, which he quickly filled before shoving one at my chest. "Now, come. I have much to talk about."
Used to his slurs, I didn't even bother to get offended and instead followed him to sit on the leather chairs by the window. Still with his cigar, Father took a deep puff before blowing out the thick smoke.
"Your mother's birthday is coming up next month," he said while swirling the drink in his other hand. "I want you to organize a party."
I placed my glass on the table beside me, as I didn't tend to drink at 11:00 a.m., and leaned back on the chair. "I thought Andrew and Catherine were planning one."
Father's jaw tensed with displeasure. "Oh, please, as if your brother and sister are capable of doing anything right." He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Your brother has the face of an idiot and the capability of one, while your sister?" He sipped from his drink, his firm jaw twisting.
"Thankfully, she's pretty and would make a good wife one day. But until that happens, all she does is waste her time and my money on worthless boys."
While I wasn't particularly close to my younger brother and sister, I didn't share my father's opinion of them. Andrew might have been a little bit scattered, but the guy was in med school, studying to be a doctor. And Catherine? She was a bit immature, I'd give my father that, but she was only twenty-one—practically a baby. So I wasn't surprised that all she cared about was dating and makeup. And texting. She sure loves her texting.
"Thankfully, raising children wasn't a complete waste of my time, as it gave me you," Father went on, a sour look on his strict face as if he'd sucked on a lemon. "If only your siblings were half the person you are, I would have been grateful." He placed his glass aside only to rub his temple with a deep sigh. "I know I don't say it much, but you're my greatest pride, Daniel. The only reason I'm tough on your siblings is that they will never match you, and it brings me great sorrow."
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 6:30p.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.
"Oh, I'm so happy you came!" he gushed in French, and before I knew what was happening, he planted a kiss on each of my cheeks. "I was beginning to worry you wouldn't come."
My heart hammered fast in my chest due to his sudden proximity, and I held my hand tightly behind my back to resist the urge to touch the spot he'd just kissed.
"Of course, you asked so nicely, and I assumed it would be rude to refuse."
Elliot took a step back and stared at me for a good moment, a pleased smile on his face, before he snapped out of it and waved toward the chair.
"Please sit down." He quickly reached to take my coat from me.
"Are you sure it's fine for me to be here?" I asked, looking around the almost empty restaurant.
"Yes, of course. I'm already done working for today."
"You are?"
He hummed a yes. "You see, it's a small place with low traffic, so it's just Marrie and me working here. She's with her grandchildren in the mornings, so I work then until she comes at the evening."
That explains it.
"Do you want something to drink? Wine, maybe?" he asked.
"Wine would be nice."
He nodded, then walked away with my coat and gloves. I watched him disappear to the back of the restaurant before I took my seat at the table and patiently waited for him to come back. My fingers tapped the tablecloth as anxiety nipped at my stomach. I couldn't help but feel I was doing
something wrong, but then again, this was only one dinner.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting," Elliot said as he practically waltzed back to the table and placed a glass in front of me. "This wine is from Provence." He presented me with the bottle. "It's where I'm from."
"Oh, for some reason, I imagined you were from Paris," I said while he poured me a taste.
"All Americans assume all French are from Paris." He chuckled. "It's quite a shame, considering how big and beautiful the rest of France is." He nudged the glass closer to me. "Come on, monsieur, taste it."
Monsieur.
Mister.
Charmed by this one word, my throat dried, and I hurried to sip the wine.
"So? How is it?"
I put down the glass.
"It's delicious."
Elliot's smile grew wider, and joy glinted in his precious eyes. "I know!
It's my absolute favorite," he said, filling my glass—a bit too much, if I may say so.
"Why don't you drink, too?" I asked as I reached for the now filled glass. Taking a deep gulp, I savored the rich taste of the wine. Perhaps I should buy a bottle—
"Apparently, I'm not old enough to drink in America," he said, catching me off guard as I took another sip.
The wine went down the wrong pipe, and I began coughing like a complete fool.
He isn't old enough to drink? That means he's—
"Daniel!" Elliot tapped on my back as I raised my hand to let him know I was fine before reaching for a napkin.
"J-just, how old are you?" I asked, my voice rough from coughing.
"Nineteen. Why? Do I look older?"
Oh, dear Lord… nineteen? That was even younger than my baby sister.
"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."