Chapter 10 Daniel #2
Who did he think he was? Hercules? How could one expect to be taken seriously with such a messy appearance? Did he think he looked cooler with long hair? Please. If we were back in the city, I would have mistaken him for one of those people playing guitars on the subway.
“So I’ll see you on Friday?” Lucas asked Claudia, who nodded.
“Yes.”
“Cool,” he said, and the wink he sent Elliot’s way did not escape me.
Annoyed, I glared at Elliot, who pretended to be oblivious, before turning to Claudia.
“I will go cook,” Elliot said and escaped inside the house, leaving me alone with my wife.
I planned on going back to reading my newspaper, except Claudia had other plans in mind.
“What the hell was that?” she asked, voice angry.
“What do you mean?”
“You were awfully rude, Daniel.”
Annoyed with her baseless accusations, I huffed. “Hardly so.” I sat back on my chair and snatched the newspaper from the table.
“Why would you speak to Lucas that way?”
Flipping back to the page I was previously on, I shrugged. “Why would we invite a stranger to eat with us?”
Claudia clicked her tongue, an annoyed look on her face. “A stranger? He’s been working here for the last three summers. Besides, he and Elliot are friends, so I thought having him over for breakfast would be nice.”
My eye twitched at the word friends.
“We’ve been here for less than two weeks. Elliot can hardly understand a word Lucas is saying, and yet they’re already friends?” I snorted. “Apparently, those two have way too much time on their hands. May I remind you we pay those people to do their jobs?”
“Those people?” The look in Claudia’s eyes was one full of disappointment. “I thought you said you cared for Elliot.”
I do. That’s the whole problem.
“He’s here to work, not make friends.”
Claudia let out a deep sigh. “I hate it when you turn into your father.”
I lowered the newspaper to glare at her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“That you’re acting like a pompous asshole.” With that, she turned around and walked over to where Maya was playing. Picking her up into her arms, Claudia glanced at me over her shoulder. “Join us for breakfast after you’re out of this mood of yours.”
If only it were that easy.
The second she and Maya were out of my sight, I clenched the damn newspaper in my fist and tossed it to the table.
“Shit,” I hissed, absolutely pissed at the situation I’d walked myself into.
Between Elliot calling me a little man and Claudia comparing me to Father, I truly wasn’t in a position to defend my behavior.
I was acting like a dick, all because I couldn’t handle my emotions.
Unnecessary emotions that were getting the better of me the longer he was here.
The thought of apologizing to Elliot occurred to me around noon.
But it was only between golfing and swimming that I fully came to terms with the idea.
After all, Elliot had a point. When he’d claimed I was the one acting weird around him, he was right.
So far, besides his occasional acts for attention, he’d done his job, while I behaved like a child and chose to give him the cold shoulder.
Not only that, but I’d also misbehaved earlier today with Claudia’s tennis instructor.
I mean, it wasn’t Elliot’s fault every fool with a pair of eyes glanced his way. Myself included.
So, with Claudia and Maya out to ride ponies, it was just me and Elliot at home. Given the hour, I assumed he was in the staff kitchen, preparing dinner. Still in my golfing clothes—an off-white polo shirt and beige trousers—I went over there.
Just as I predicted, Elliot was in the kitchen, surrounded by various fruits, meats, fish, and vegetables. On the stoves were pots and pans, and he moved with ease between them all, stirring, mixing, cutting, almost as if dancing.
Since he had yet to notice me, I cleared my throat to catch his attention. Elliot glanced up from the dough he was kneading, only to look back down once he saw me.
Pushing the feeling of rejection away, I allowed myself into the kitchen.
“What are you cooking?” I asked, in French, of course.
“Dinner.”
I chuckled. “I know you’re making dinner… I mean, what’s on the menu?”
Instead of speaking, Elliot cocked his head in the direction of the wall, where a small erasable board was hung.
On it, in his handwriting, was tonight’s menu.
Although little did he know, I couldn’t care less about the food and only asked this to start a conversation.
A conversation he clearly didn’t want any part of.
My stomach turned at having this tension between us, and after taking a deep breath, I stepped closer to him.
“Do you want to go out for a walk?”
“Not possible.” He spoke in English now. “I got work.”
His sarcasm carried along with his accent, hitting me right where it hurt. Bowing my head down, I nodded. “Fair enough… I deserve this much.”
Since Elliot still wasn’t keen on talking to me, I tried a different approach and strolled toward the stoves. Bending down, I brought my face closer to one of the pots, the steam moisturizing my skin as I inhaled the pleasant scents.
“This smells delicious. What is this? Some stew, maybe—”
“Fish stock to use later.”
Before I could utter another word, Elliot pushed me aside and put a lid on the pot.
“You’re interrupting me,” he hissed, back in French, while his eyes studied me from head to toe. “Maybe go back and play some more golf?”
Clearly, all he wanted me to do was piss off.
Moving aside and out of his way, I grunted. “Well, excuse me for trying to apologize.”
Dropping whatever he was doing, he turned to face me. “For what? For being an asshole since we’ve got here?”
Annoyed with his attitude, I scoffed. “Watch your mouth, Elliot.”
“Or what?” he challenged me with a raised chin. “You’ll fire me?”
Somehow, it sounded even more daring in French.
“I might.”
His brows rose high, nearly reaching his hairline, before he stomped toward me and stopped right in my face, so close our shoes nearly bumped.
“So do it. Fire me.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I warned.
“Men like you… you’re all talk.”
“Watch it.”
Pressing his lips together, he breathed from his nose before jabbing his finger at my chest. “You’re a coward.”
Furious, I grabbed his hand. He tried resisting, but I was much stronger, and so I kept him close.
“A coward? Why? Because I have a sense of responsibility?”
“For not admitting that you want me right here!” he snapped and leaned closer until he was a breath away. “You want me here so bad it’s making you angry.”
My body tensed, and unsure of where to look, I settled for his eyes.
Only the determination burning in them freaked me out, and panicked, I let go of his hand and drew back.
With cold sweat covering my skin and my breath caught in my chest, I glared at him, my lips slightly parted.
While I acted as if I’d just seen a ghost, or in this case, the truth, Elliot remained unfazed.
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes lay on me; he didn’t even try to conceal his intentions.
It scared me. He scared me.
“You’re being inappropriate,” I rasped, my voice as weak as my morals.
“Daniel—”
“You’re here to work for me and my family and nothing more,” I cut him off before he could say another word that would make me do something I’d regret. Only it wasn’t enough, and somehow, I decided to push further. “And if you can’t do this job properly, I will find someone else who will.”
If I’d expected him to burst into tears, as he did the last time we fought back in his apartment, it didn’t happen.
Instead, Elliot kept his face calm and collected before stepping back to his dough, making it clear that this conversation was over.
To say I left the kitchen feeling worse than before would be an understatement, as I throbbed with rage.
But it wasn’t just anger tearing me apart, but desperation.
I was stuck in a situation I had no control over, and whenever I opened my mouth to speak, all I did was make things worse.
And if there was one thing I feared more than Elliot working here, it was for him to leave and never return.