Chapter 13 Daniel
DANIEL
“Where should I put this?” I asked, lifting the grocery bags after I helped Elliot carry them into the kitchen.
“Right here is fine,” he said while pointing over the counter. “Thank you,” he added.
Once I placed the bags down, Elliot began unpacking.
“So what now?” I asked, glancing around the kitchen.
“Now I cook.”
I checked the time on my watch to see it was rather early. Since Claudia was still out and I had no more plans for the day, I asked, “Do you need any help?”
Stopping what he was doing, Elliot glanced at me with one quirked brow. “Do you even know how to cook?”
Crossing my arms, I shook my head. “Absolutely not, but I’m sure there’s something I could do, like the dishes? Maybe even chop some onions?”
Elliot pursed his lips before placing a bunch of carrots in front of me. “Maybe we start with something simple?” He cocked his head in the direction of the sink. “After you wash your hands, you can start by peeling those.”
Satisfied he allowed me to join, I smiled. “Yes, Chef,” I said, which sounded so much better in French.
Elliot laughed while shaking his head. “I’m not a chef, okay? Just a cook.”
“Nonsense.” I stopped by the sink. “You’re the greatest chef I’ve ever met.”
Elliot went on explaining why he wasn’t a chef while I turned on the tap to wash my hands.
Before reaching for the soap, I removed my wristwatch so it wouldn’t get ruined and thought about taking off my wedding ring, too.
I almost did, but somehow, it felt wrong to do so, even if it was just for cooking.
Therefore, I kept it on and quickly washed my hands before Elliot could scold me for being too slow.
After demonstrating how to peel the carrots correctly (apparently, there was a right and a wrong way to do so), Elliot left me to my task as he went to change his clothes.
He suggested I do the same, saying things could get messy in the kitchen, but I didn’t care enough about my clothes to bother changing. Worst case, I’d toss them away.
Ten minutes later, he returned to the kitchen, looking incredibly sexy with a white apron tightened around his slim waist. Gracefully, he began working his magic in the kitchen while glancing at me every now and then to make sure I was doing things his way.
An hour into our cooking, I was promoted to peeling and cutting not just the carrots, but potatoes, too.
“So what’s so unique about coq au vin that you had to cook it today?” I asked, putting another peeled potato aside before grabbing a new one.
“Pardon?” He lifted his head from the pot he was stirring.
“This morning, Claudia said you insisted on cooking this today… I wondered why.”
“Oh.” Quietly, Elliot turned down the heat and moved away from the stoves to pick up a knife and a few onions.
“I woke up feeling a bit lonely, and this meal… It reminds me of home,” he said, almost to himself, and I found it to be heartbreaking.
Especially because I knew I had a hand in him feeling lonely.
“Do you miss home a lot?”
“All the time.”
His answer was so precise, like a dart to my heart.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said when he nodded.
“You should meet my maman one day. I bet she’d like you.”
I looked at him, surprised. “You think so?”
“Absolutely. She’s wonderful, very funny, too.”
“Sounds like you’re close.”
His lips curved up as his whole face lit up. “Yes. She was always my best friend, and it’s weird not seeing her every day.”
And to think I’d pay to move my parents to a different continent.
“I also miss my brother, although I doubt he cares.” A soft chuckle accompanied his words. “I’m pretty sure he’s happy I’m gone.”
My brows knitted close, and I frowned at him. “How come?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. Alo?s has always been short-tempered with me. I probably just annoy him.”
So Alo?s was his brother? He sounds like an asshole.
“How old is he?”
“Oh, he’s fourteen.”
Did I just call a child an asshole?
“You should see how beautiful he is, though. Way prettier than me.”
I highly doubted that.
“He can also speak English, unlike me,” Elliot said, not taking his eyes off the onions he was chopping. “He has been incredibly smart ever since he was a little boy.”
“You’re smart, too, Elliot,” I said, sensing he didn’t give himself the credit he deserved.
“Me?” He huffed. “Hardly. I’m lucky to have finished school.” He tried lightening the mood by laughing, but it fell short, and I could see the pain in his eyes.
I put aside the peeler and looked at him. “You’re very smart.”
With a snort, Elliot turned to face me. “I sound stupid,” he said in English, and the forced smile on his face nearly broke my heart.
“You’re learning a new language, Elliot. It’s not an easy thing to do.”
“Alo?s is already fluent in English, and he’s only fourteen.” He switched back to French.
“So what? People have different language absorption skills, and your struggle doesn’t reflect on your intelligence.”
He looked down at the chopped onions, and I noticed the tears in his eyes.
“These onions make me cry. Anyway—” He wiped away his tears. “—it doesn’t really matter. I know I’m not the smartest person. That’s why I don’t plan on becoming a doctor.” He paused only to smirk at me. “Or a lawyer.”
Now, it was my turn to huff a laugh. “If you knew the number of idiots I’ve worked with… trust me, you’d change your mind about lawyers.”
Finally, a genuine smile took over his beautiful lips, lighting up his whole face before he went back to his chopping board.
Looking at the mountain of potatoes I still had to peel, I grabbed the peeler back and started working again.
“You know, you still haven’t told me why you left France to come here,” I said, trying to make lemonade out of lemons and learn more about him while we were here.
“To be a model.”
I knew this much, although I found it hard to believe. For starters, Elliot didn’t seem too eager to chase that path, as he was more than happy to work as a cook.
“And yet, here you are, working as a private chef in the Hamptons.”
“For now.”
Since I felt like there was more to his story than he was willing to share, I tried digging more. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to start a modeling career in France?”
“No.”
“Come on, you don’t expect me to believe that.” I snorted. “Paris is known for its fashion and glam. I’m sure there were more than enough modeling opportunities for you there.”
A loud sound startled me, and I looked aside to see Elliot had slammed his knife on the cutting board.
“Why are you interrogating me?” he snapped, eyes locked with mine.
Shocked by his sudden shift in mood, I stared at him.
“I’m not.”
“And yet, you ask all those questions.”
“Elliot, I was just curious—”
“I’m here, and that’s it.”
His eyes looked wild as he stared back at me. He was definitely angry, and not wanting to upset him more, I nodded.
“Okay,” I quietly said, understanding I’d hit a nerve.
Without saying another word, Elliot grabbed the knife and went back to chopping. Not wanting to make the situation worse, I was prepared to start peeling again when he swore, and I turned to see him holding his hand close to his chest.
In a matter of seconds, I was at his side.
“What happened?” I asked, worry carrying through my voice.
“I just cut myself,” he hissed, holding his hand tighter.
Only now noticing the blood on his thumb, I quickly grabbed a towel and covered his hand with it. He winced as I applied more pressure on the wound, so I placed a hand on his lower back to keep him composed.
“Don’t be scared. It’s just a small cut,” I promised him while watching his face pale.
“O-oh God, I hate blood,” he wheezed, voice wavering.
Instead of reassuring him it was nothing to worry about, I pulled him closer as I continued to apply pressure on the cut.
Elliot didn’t resist and quickly buried his face in my chest while I used the towel to soak the blood.
He was a bit shaky, so I used my free hand to softly stroke his hair.
While his eyes were closed, I took a moment to lift off the towel and check the wound.
“H-how is it?” he asked.
Thankfully, it wasn’t deep and wouldn’t need any stitches.
“It’s a small cut, nothing you should be scared over.”
Elliot pulled back to look at me, and I was struck by the rawness in his eyes.
“Are you sure?” His brows knitted close, making him look too vulnerable.
Without tearing my eyes from him to look at the wound again, I nodded.
“Absolutely. A simple bandage will do the work,” I promised him with a smile.
Biting down on his bottom lip, he nodded. “T-there’s a first aid kit on the shelves.”
“I’ll go grab it, okay?”
Now holding the towel himself, Elliot nodded and stepped back. Once he did, I walked over to the shelves to look for said kit. I found it, but unfortunately, it was lacking in everything.
“There’s no bandages or any antiseptic here, but we have a first aid kit in our bathroom, too,” I said, putting the useless kit back in place. “Let’s go treat you there.”
With Elliot walking behind me, I led the way to Claudia’s and my master bedroom on the second floor of the house. He turned quiet, and I hurried up, worrying he was in pain.
“Here,” I said, opening the door for him to walk in first.
Elliot passed by me and strolled inside the room, all while looking around.
“You’ve got a good taste,” he said as he studied the cream-colored walls and beige furniture.
“Claudia has great taste,” I kindly corrected him. “I, on the other hand… not so much.”
He gave me a dirty look over his sassy shoulder. “I actually think you have good taste. And not just for ice cream.”
Seems like someone has recovered fast.
Deciding to ignore his flirting, I pointed over to the en suite bathroom. “Let’s go there.”