To Steal a Weeping Widow

Chapter Twenty: Daniel and His Den

He whistled in appreciation, sweeping his eyes down my figure in shameless lechery. "Damn. It really has been a while. You're looking good, El."

I'm going to throw up in my mouth.

It was Simon's hand covering mine then, giving a knowing squeeze before offering his own to Satan. "Simon Gatz. Nice to meet you, Daniel."

The men shook hands, and I hoped Simon was crushing Daniel's fingers at least a little bit. I tightened my own grip on Simon's arm, hoping it'd be enough to ward off the bad omens emanating before us.

It wasn't.

"How do you know Ellie?" Daniel inquired maliciously, dropping the shake. He pointed his intact finger between Simon and I with a flat smile.

"We—"

"We're together," I blurted.

I was ashamed of myself, but it'd be better that way. I knew from experience how much easier it was to hide behind a fake relationship than deal with blustering ego from Mr. Hot Shot. Girl power would have to take one for the team while I dodged bullets of past nuisances.

Simon glanced at me briefly before nodding in agreement. His words were smooth as he joined in my lie. "Yes. Over a year now."

"And yet no ring on her finger," Daniel prodded with a hum. He shook his head lightly, apparently unable to resist adding fuel to the fire. "I'm surprised. Her mother was always saying how Ellie was such a family girl."

This mother—

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Simon responded coolly before I could. Daniel was lucky, I'd been ready to retort with a not-so-nice wake up call. Though, I kept it ready, because Daniel still had that awful grin of arrogance.

"No, I suppose it isn't, anymore," he acknowledged.

"It never was!" I rebuffed, momentarily losing my grip. "I was never any of your concern. Even back then."

I'd been trying hard to maintain my composure, but I was flabbergasted at how awful Daniel was acting. It was egregious behavior, even for him. He was a known asshole, sure, but why was he leveling a spear to my chest? Why was he now removing the safety of his weaponry, when before he'd only ever fiddled with it in empty threat? He was the type to ruffle feathers both unintentionally and intentionally, but his actions were too crude and churlish to be without reason. It didn't make sense; I'd hardly seen the guy since we'd escaped the walls of our private educations. Why was he being so rough around his sharp edges?

"We just came to look at the art, but we're done now," I stated. "We'll be going."

"So soon? What a shame, I'm sure James would've loved to see you."

My teeth were going to crack under the pressure of my bite, and I worried Simon's would, too. His jaw was tight and his eyes were angry as he stared Daniel down. I had a feeling it'd be quite wonderful to let them go toe to toe, to let pride clash with prowess, but Simon didn't deserve to become embroiled in trouble because of me. Whether I liked it or not, the Ponting brothers could cause more trouble than they were worth. Lord knows they'd caused me and my friends enough grief back in the day.

"Let's go, Simon. Have a good night, Dan."

I began to pull Simon away, but we weren't quick enough in our retreat to avoid another of Daniel's nasty remarks. He directed it at our receding backs, words like arrows hoping to bring me to his new low.

"Remember paintings are for buying, Ellie!" His words echoed and he aimed again. "Would hate to have another FBI investigation open up, you know?"

Daniel's chortles were poisoning the air. Simon tensed as if to turn around, but I took my arm out of his and wrapped it around his waist instead. I held him tight for everyone's sake, murmuring into his side, "C'mon. We'll just leave."