Chapter 7 Daniel
DANIEL
Linking her elbow with mine, Claudia leaned closer to me, her chest pressing against my arm.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
I sipped from my champagne glass as we walked back from the bar.
“Yes. Why?”
“You’ve been in a foul mood for a few days now, and I was wondering if it has anything to do with your father?”
I stopped walking, only to frown at her. “Why would you think that?”
Claudia let go of my arm and moved to stand before me, her hands already working to fix my tie.
“As I said, something has been annoying you since you returned from your business trip with him. And now that we’re here—” She tilted her head to the side, indicating my father’s party, where we were currently stuck. “—I assumed he said something to you.”
She was right. I had been in a foul mood for the past week, but for a change, it had nothing to do with Father.
Holding her concerned gaze, I sighed. “I apologize for being cold—”
“Hey.” She nudged my head to look back at her. “I didn’t ask for an apology. I’m just worried about you, Daniel.” Her palm moved to cup my jaw, and I forced a smile before wrapping one hand around her wrist.
I wish I were brave enough to be honest with her.
“It’s just that work is a little bit stressful at the moment.
” I lied to her and myself, as the reason for my anger was solely caused by my own pitifulness.
What this last week had taught me was that my attachment to Elliot went far beyond mere curiosity and into the dangerous zones of desire.
An unhealthy desire that was the root of this jealousy that weighed on my chest like a disease.
Whenever I thought back on Saturday morning and on that stranger kissing Elliot’s neck, my muscles tensed, and my stomach coiled.
“There’s my favorite couple,” my father’s strong voice cut through the noise of the party, causing Claudia and me to turn in time to face him.
He slammed his hand on my shoulder. “So, enjoying yourself?” he asked, a smile stretched on his slightly drunk face.
“Of course we are, Teddy,” Claudia said with a flirtatious smile.
My wife sure knew how to work her magic around Father, and it was one of the things I appreciated most about her. She saw right through him and realized what an asshole he truly was.
“Has this one ever told you how I saved his ass from signing a deal with a con artist?”
“No, you most definitely have not,” Claudia chuckled, her eyes locked with mine, before she moved closer to Father. “Please tell me everything, and don’t miss a detail.”
One would think she was on his side, only that knowing my wife, I knew it was all an act so he’d get off my back quickly enough.
After all, it wouldn’t be a Theodore Williams party if he didn’t humiliate at least one of his three children.
Considering Catherine was busy impressing Mother’s friends, and Andrew couldn’t make it today due to school, I was his target.
And so, Father started telling a pointless story from almost five years ago that I couldn’t give a damn about.
And as he went on and on about how I was too easy to trust, I realized he had a point.
With little effort, Elliot managed to make me fall for his trap. With his struggling language and sweet smile, he allowed me to believe I was someone precious to him—a man he missed after only a few days apart. In reality, I was nothing but a tool to pass his time.
Sounds of laughter pulled me out of my thoughts, and I looked around to see we were circled by a group of ass-kissers who pretended to find my father amusing only for the sake of getting something out of him.
Was Elliot the same? Had he led me along to get money out of me?
My body froze at the horrible thought, and anxious, I excused myself and hurried to the bar, where I got myself a scotch on the rocks. The liquor went down my throat smoothly, and I wiped my lips before ordering another.
“Hey.” Claudia came to my side. “He was just joking out there, Daniel. Nothing to be offended by.”
I snorted at her worry, considering how off base she was. So caught up with Elliot, I didn’t even bother to listen to Father’s story. In fact, it all became white noise at some point—all but him.
Him.
Him.
Him.
Nothing had ever happened between us, and here I was, already losing my sanity over him.
“I just remembered there are some papers I need to submit,” I told Claudia with a reassuring smile that failed to do the work, given the frown on her face.
“Daniel—”
“John will take you back home, okay?”
Despite her clear worry, she nodded. I’d wager anything she thought I needed space from my dad, and shame on me for letting her.
Using her kindness in such a cynical manner was unfair.
Yet, once again, I chose to be selfish, and after kissing her goodbye, I left the party and drove straight to Brooklyn.
Standing in front of his door, I curled my fingers into tight fists and was ready to knock when I paused.
What if he’s not alone?
The unsettling thought made my insides flip, and nervous, I swallowed back my fear.
Was I capable of facing such a scenario?
I highly doubted it. But at the same time, I also couldn’t stomach going through one more day without confronting Elliot and getting answers to questions I didn’t even know I cared about.
I took a deep breath before finally moving and knocking on his door. Hoping he’d answer it, I stepped back and waited with my hands behind my back.
I tensed on the spot upon hearing sounds coming from the other side of the door and quickly straightened up just in time for Elliot to open it.
He stood in the doorway, a cigarette between his fingers, blocking my way inside. With a stone face, he checked me out carefully, his eyes going over the evening tux I wore tonight.
He raised one brow, took a puff from his cigarette, and blew out the smoke.
“What are you doing here?” He tsked. “I thought you said you were too busy to meet this week.”
I see. So he’s angry, too.
“I was.” Or so I lied to him.
He gave me a pissed-off look before taking another drag. “Yet you had time for partying.”
“We need to talk.”
Turning his back to me, Elliot walked inside the apartment.
“Really?” he snarled as I followed him in, closing the door behind me.
It was my first time inside his place, which was incredibly small.
In fact, it was just a cramped room with a bed, a small kitchenette, and a door that I assumed led to the bathroom.
The fact that fashion magazines covered the cracked floor and clothes hung around from literally anywhere didn’t help to make the place look bigger.
“Don’t you have a closet?” I asked while eyeing the window he used as a hanger for some shirts.
“Did you come here to talk about interior design?” He sat down on his bed.
His bed.
My mind went wild with thoughts of what he did on those sheets, and that brought me back to last Saturday and the man who I assumed he fucked here.
Fucked. That one word rubbed me the wrong way as I wasn’t a vulgar man.
Sex never meant much to me before, mainly because I had never been engaged in an act that made me lose all of my senses.
Being a gay man married to a woman, intercourse was an unpleasant task I had to suffer to keep my secrets.
Most times, I was terrified I wouldn’t get an erection, which would awaken Claudia’s suspicion.
At other times, I simply did my best to pleasure her and be done with it.
Yet, ever since I saw that man kissing Elliot’s neck, all I could think about was sex. Dirty, filthy sex. More correctly, of the way they fucked. By now, I probably had dozens of different scenarios in mind, and seeing Elliot sitting on his bed didn’t help.
“No, I had something to ask you,” I finally answered his question.
Elliot put out his cigarette in the ashtray he had beside him. “And what, a text couldn’t do it?”
Now I see why he’s angry.
“Elli—”
“No.” He got up to his feet and stomped toward me. Pulling out his phone, the one I’d bought for him, he shoved it at my chest.
I quickly moved to grab both—his phone and his hand—while keeping them close to me.
“I’m sorry about that.”
Rage simmered in his eyes before his jaw twitched. “Do you know how humiliating it was to ask someone to translate it for me?”
So, perhaps I should have called him instead of sending a lousy message telling him I wouldn’t make it this week. But forgive me for not typing it in French.
Tightening my grip on his hand, I leaned closer so our faces were inches apart.
“Couldn’t you just ask your boyfriend to read it for you?” I hissed in English, my voice laced with all the pent-up jealousy I’d swallowed for the past week.
Elliot’s brows pulled closer, a crease forming between them. “Boyfriend?” he repeated in English. “Qu’est-ce tu veux dire par ‘boyfriend’?”
Understanding that what I said was a mistake, I tried to take it back. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” I said in French. “It was nothing.”
I tried holding him closer, but he shrugged me off.
“It’s not nothing. You clearly have something to say, so say it!” he snapped, clenching his phone in his hand.
This was probably the first time I’d seen him angry, but at the moment, I was too mad to care.
“I saw you with that guy, Elliot. So don’t you dare lie about it.” My blood boiled with anger.
His brows rose to his hairline a second before he huffed. “It’s always the married ones who’re jealous.”
Somehow, having him say those words in his language felt even more condescending, only increasing my anger to immense levels.
“So you admit it?” I practically growled.
“Admit what?” he hissed, eyes narrowed.
“That you have someone?”
He snorted a laugh. Only it wasn’t the cheerful melody I was used to, but cold and detached.
“I don’t have anyone. And even if I did, why does it matter to you? You’re married.”
Elliot was right—I was married, hence why I shouldn’t care who he dated. And yet, I didn’t give a shit that he made sense and instead continued to act like a depraved man with a wounded ego and a bleeding heart.
“Damn it, Elliot!” I shouted in English. “Just answer my question.”
A deadly silence followed my outburst as he kept staring into my eyes, an expression I couldn’t read on his face.
“Oui.”
“Yes? Yes, what?” I nearly begged, sweating bullets in my tux, when coldness crossed his face.
“I fuck that man,” he snarled in English, as if he wanted to make sure I understood every word. “I fuck many men. Why not? On ne sors pas ensemble.” He shrugged, and something just snapped inside me.
“We’re not dating… That’s true. And yet, you have no problem taking my time and attention.” I spoke in French, my stare traveling to the phone he still clenched in his fist before going up to meet his hurt eyes.
His lips trembled before he swallowed hard.
“This?” He raised the phone, his voice choked with tears. “You think I care for this?”
Before I could apologize and say I spoke out of anger, he’d already tossed the phone on the floor. A string of curses I didn’t know the meaning of left his lips while he stomped over the brand-new phone until it was utterly ruined.
Once there was nothing more to break, Elliot finally stopped. With his hair falling over his face, he kept his head down, his breath wavering. When I noticed the tears rolling down his cheek, I reached to touch him, but he pushed my hand away.
“Get out of here.” He sniffed. “I don’t want to see you or your money ever again.”
My heart broke at seeing him cry because of me, and I swore to never do it again.
“I’m sorry,” I said and took a step closer to him.
“I told you to leave!”
“I heard you,” I answered him calmly before reaching to touch him.
He tried fighting me.
“No—”
His words fell short once I pulled him into my arms, and he crashed against me. Quickly, I enveloped him in my embrace, so tight there was barely any space for air between us.
“You hurt me,” he cried with his face shoved into my chest. “You really hurt me.”
“I know.” I kissed the top of his head while breathing him in. “I’m so sorry, Elliot. So terribly sorry.”
He let out a low whimper before finally hugging me back, and with that one small gesture, he chased away all the insecurities I had regarding him.
The same as me, Elliot clung to what he could get—which wasn’t a lot.
This kind, remarkable, and beautiful man felt so fragile in my arms, and as his hands grasped the fabric of my tuxedo jacket, my heart nearly pounded out of my chest. It was difficult to hold him close without wanting to do more.
But I knew better than to cross that line, and so did he, as we did nothing but hug each other.
In his tiny apartment in Brooklyn, NY, I was so far from home. Yet right here, with my arms wrapped around Elliot and my heart beating just for him, it felt like home. Or at least, it was beginning to feel like it.
Hugging him, I realized just how dangerous this relationship had become, and it was only a matter of time before I’d cross the line, from which, without a doubt, there would be no return.