Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy)

by Reynard, Sylvain

  His eyes opened.

  He reached for the keys.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Gabriel?” Julia’s voice floated out to where he was seated on the balcony.

  He was in a dark corner, brooding. He could hear her feet padding across the tiled floor and through the open doors as she approached him.

  “What are you doing?” She eyed the cigarette he held in one of his hands and the drink in the other.

  “Nothing.” He placed the cigarette to his lips and inhaled slowly before turning his face to the sky and blowing the smoke heavenward.

  “You don’t smoke.”

  “Of course I do. Usually, I choose cigars.”

  She looked from his glass to his face, her eyes troubled.

  He lifted his glass in mock salute.

  “Don’t worry, it’s Coke.” He grimaced. “I’d prefer Laphroaig.”

  “There isn’t any.”

  “I know that,” he growled. “The house is bereft of alcohol except for wine.”

  “Only white. You prefer red.” Her eyebrows knitted together. “Did you go looking?”

  “What if I did?” he snapped.

  Julia began chewing at her bottom lip.

  Gabriel put his cigarette in the ashtray and reached up, pressing his thumb against her mouth.

  “Don’t.” He freed her lip, then picked up his cigarette, turning away from her.

  Silence stretched between them, an immeasurable distance, until finally, she spoke.

  “Good night, Gabriel.”

  “Wait.” He placed a hand to her hip, pressing into the gauzy whiteness of her nightgown. “I need to ask you something.

  “How healthy are you?”

  “It’s after midnight and you’re asking about my health?”

  “Just answer the question.” He sounded grim. “Please.”

  She pushed her hair back from her face. “I’m healthy. I have low blood pressure and I tend to have low iron levels, so I take a supplement.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “My low blood pressure is probably genetic. My mother had it.”

  “Genetic,” he muttered, drawing on his cigarette again. The smoke billowed from his nostrils as if he were a dragon.

  “It’s a bit odd to ask me about my health while you’re out here smoking, don’t you think?”

  “It’s better than cocaine, Julianne.” His voice was cold. “How did your mother die?”

  “Why are you asking me this?” She pulled away from him.

  “You told me your mother died while you were living with your father. I didn’t know if she had health problems or if it was an accident.” Gabriel’s expression was searching, but his eyes were guarded.

  “She was drunk and fell down the stairs at her apartment building. Broke her neck.” Julia gave him a venomous look. “Happy now?”

  She turned to go back into the bedroom, but he caught her arm. “Julianne.”

  “Don’t touch me!” She wrenched her arm free and turned on him. “I love you, but you can be a cold son of a bitch.”

  He was on his feet in an instant, his drink and cigarette discarded on the table. “I don’t deny it.”

  “Something is troubling you, but instead of discussing it with your wife, you’d rather discuss it with your drink and your cigarette and the Umbrian landscape. Fine. Sit out here all night by yourself. But don’t try to mindfuck me.”

  She moved toward the doors that led to their bedroom.

  “I’m not trying to mindfuck you.”

  “Then warn me before you start spelunking through my unhappy memories.”

  Gabriel tried to restrain a chuckle but failed.

  She turned and glared. “It isn’t funny!”

  “Spelunking, Julianne? Really?” His face relaxed into a playful grin, at which she merely frowned.

  He closed the space between them. “Don’t blame me for laughing. You have an enviable vocabulary.”

  She struggled against his arms and then his lips were on hers. The dusky taste of smoke and tobacco invaded her mouth. His kiss was gentle but insistent.

  In time, her posture softened.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m in a foul mood. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

  “That’s right, you shouldn’t.

  “When I’m upset, I talk to you. Talk to me.”

  He pulled away, running both hands through his hair, making its dark strands even more unruly.

  She tugged at his elbow.

  “Everyone gets into a foul mood sometime. But you can’t bring up certain topics so indelicately.”

  “Forgive me.”

  “You’re forgiven.” She shivered. “But you’re scaring me. You’re looking for Scotch and talking about cocaine. You’re asking me how my mother died. What’s going on?”

  “Not tonight, Julianne.” He scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Haven’t we had enough distress for one day? Go to bed. I’m not fit for company.”

  He returned to his seat, his shoulders slumped.

  Julia hesitated, her eyes darting between the doors to the bedroom and his face. Part of her wanted to leave him to brood alone. Part of her believed that he was in distress and that if she didn’t attempt to intervene, he would spiral into a depression.

  Or worse.

  She went to him, holding out a tentative baby finger, linking it with his.

  “You’re upset.”

  “Yes.” His voice sounded flat.

  “Before we were together, when you’d get into a foul mood, what would you do?”

  “I’d drink and do coke. And . . .” He began tapping his bare foot against the floor of the balcony.

  “And?”

  His blue eyes moved to hers. “I’d fuck.”

  “Did it work?”

  He snorted. “Temporarily. My troubles always came back the next morning.”

  She looked inside the bedroom, toward the large canopied bed.

  She lifted her chin. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “To bed.” She tugged at his pinky finger. “To work out our foul moods.”

  Gabriel’s eyes seared into hers. Then he seemed to pull himself back.

  “That is not a good idea. I told you, I’m not myself.”

  “Do you love me?”

  He frowned. “Of course.”

  “Would you hurt me?”

  “Absolutely not. Who do you think I am?”

  “I think you’re my husband and I think you need to fuck your bad mood away. So let’s go.”

  His mouth dropped open.

  When he’d collected himself, his expression grew harsh. “I don’t fuck you, Julianne.”

  “No, you’d rather I were someone else so you could.”

  His eyes flashed. “That is not true. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. You didn’t touch me when we went to bed. I needed you but you said no.” She stretched her arms wide. “Don’t you understand? What you crave, I need. Help me forget I’m about to lose the only sibling I’ve ever had. Please.”

  He was torn. It was telegraphed in the way his eyes bore into hers and the eagerness that radiated from his skin.

  On impulse, Julia wrapped an arm around his back and placed her other in his hair. She tugged his mouth toward hers and kissed him deeply.

  He responded quickly, wrapping her legs around his hips. Soon he was controlling their kiss; his tongue in her mouth, insistent and urgent.

  “Take me to bed,” she begged, when he finally drew breath.

  “We aren’t going to use the bed.”

  With a dangerous look, he carried her into the bedroom.

  Gabriel didn’t bother with lamps or m
usic before he pressed her against the nearest wall. A distant light from the open door to the bathroom lightened the dark bedroom to gray.

  Her legs tightened around his hips as he pulled off her robe. The silk sank to the floor.

  He placed two fingers in his mouth, wetting them, before reaching down to pet between her legs. She moaned and pressed against his hand. His touching grew more desperate.

  “Are you afraid?” He brought his lips to her ear.

  “No.” She wound her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers.

  He explored her with his tongue, licking at her lips and thrusting inside. His hand slid around to cup her backside, pulling her against him.

  “Watch,” he rasped, fluttering his mouth along her neck.

  “Watch what?”

  “Us. In the mirror.”

  Julia opened her eyes and saw the mirror mounted on the wall on the other side of the room. Somehow, it was perfectly positioned to reflect her husband’s magnificent and naked back and the dark-haired woman who was hidden by his body.

  “I want you to see what I see when you come.”

  Gabriel trailed kisses up and down her neck before rubbing his stubble against her chest. He cupped her breast in his hand, worshipping each one with his mouth. Licking and nipping and sucking.

  He dropped a hand between her legs again and, using deliberate strokes, petted her as his mouth closed over a rosy peak.

  Julia tried very hard to keep her eyes open, but it was difficult. His tongue teased her flesh, his lips tugging and pulling.

  She’d never seen what they looked like together. His body long and lean, hers smaller and softer. Their skin had different tones—he was darker while she was fair.

  Gabriel lavished her with single-minded attention. As if he were a dying man and this was his last assignation. Her very flesh nearly melted from the heat of his touch.

  His focus caused the world to fall away, as it always did in those moments, his probing fingers and impatient erection brushing between her legs.

  “I need you,” she murmured, pulling back so she could see him. She was clutching his shoulders, almost climbing him.

  “I need you to come first. Eyes on the mirror.”

  He continued to pet her, resisting the urge to speed despite her desperate movements.

  Without warning, her rosy lips parted and she gasped, her gaze fixed on their reflection.

  Then with a single, deep thrust he was inside her.

  She saw her eyes widen, her fingers tighten their grip on his shoulders. She saw his strong hips and lean, beautiful backside moving apace, pushing into her again and again.

  She groaned, eyes closing.

  “I told you to watch,” he growled, nipping her ear.

  Her eyes opened and she saw him glaring at her.

  She turned to look at the mirror. He kept up his rhythm, moving and thrusting.

  Sighs and moans escaped her lips as his pace increased. And still, she did not look away.

  “This isn’t fucking,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

  Her eyes fled the mirror and met his. The sapphire blue of his irises was barely visible against the wide, black pupils.

  “This isn’t fucking. It’s a hell of a lot more.”

  His breathing stuttered as he thrust, his pace suddenly uneven.

  “Always.” She began panting, her exhalations matching his rhythm.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, she orgasmed. His words were drowned in a sea of sensation. Her eyes closed as the satisfaction flowed through her.

  Gabriel thrust deep once more and released, his teeth nipping at her collarbone.

  Julia struggled to catch her breath, resting her cheek against his neck.

  “Incredible,” he rumbled, after he’d caught his breath.

  He lifted his head. “Are you all right?”

  She closed her eyes, resting her head against the wall. “Yes, but I’m probably bowlegged. Give me a minute before you put me down.”

  “What makes you think I’m finished with you?”

  He pushed her hair behind her shoulder, his mouth finding her ear.

  “One,” he whispered.

  Julia awoke the next morning to an empty bed. Of itself, this was not surprising. But when she discovered that the bathroom and balcony were also empty, she pulled on her robe and went in search of her husband.

  He was nowhere to be found.

  The keys to the Mercedes were on the kitchen counter, where he’d left them the night before, next to an empty bottle of Coca-Cola. He hadn’t left a note.

  A wave of hurt washed over her. The night before had been passionate, perhaps more so than any other night previous. They’d made love against the wall, on the bathroom counter, on the floor, and finally on the bed. The sun was almost peeking over the horizon when he’d finally relented and let them sleep.

  Julia had wanted to wake up with him and perhaps, to take her time exploring his body before languorously making love. But such was not her good fortune. Gabriel’s absence and the absence of a note made her feel twinges of anxiety. He hadn’t even left a glass of water or juice at her bedside, as was his custom.

  I wonder if this is how his other women felt after spending the night with him. If he even let them spend the night . . .

  Her anxiety morphed into unhappiness as she reluctantly climbed the stairs and returned to her room. She changed into her bikini, grabbing her sunglasses and hat before walking to the pool. A swim would keep her occupied.

  She swam laps until she’d almost forgotten her conversation with her father the day before, and Gabriel’s evident distress the previous evening. Then she set her feet down in the shallow end, her eyes straying to a pair of running shoes that were situated at the edge of the pool.

  “I thought I told you I didn’t want you swimming alone.”

  Gabriel stood, holding out a towel. He was dressed in his jogging clothes and he was sweaty, his T-shirt soaked.

  “Good morning to you, too.” She swam to the edge and plucked the towel from his grasp.

  “Good morning.”

  “I wouldn’t have to swim alone if you didn’t leave me,” she muttered, climbing out of the pool.

  “You know I like to run in the mornings.”

  “It’s almost noon.” She wrapped herself in the towel and faced him, hands on her hips.

  He seemed agitated. He glanced at her but wouldn’t make eye contact, and his posture was decidedly uncomfortable.

  Julia wondered how a night of fantastic sex could leave her relaxed and weightless and leave him strung as tightly as a bow.

  “You could have left a note.”

  “I could have,” he said slowly. “I didn’t think of it.”

  “If you want to run, that’s fine. Just let me know when you’ll be back.”

  Gabriel opened his mouth to protest but suddenly decided against it.

  “I’m going to have a shower. I made the hotel reservation for your father yesterday and arranged to have the concierge deliver a fruit basket. I’ll be in my study for most of the day, working. But I’ll take you to dinner in Todi tonight.”

  “No.”

  He blinked at her. “No?”

  “No, Gabriel. You can’t run off to your study after treating me so coldly. No.”

  His expression shifted.

  “I don’t mean to be cold, Julianne.” His voice was low.

  She stared at him.

  He scrubbed at the stubble on his chin. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  “That’s what you said last night. I hoped our activities would have helped.”

  A shadow passed over his features.

  He stood in front of her, reaching out to grasp the necklace she was wearing. He ran his thumb over the su
spended heart.

  “You are always lovely. I could hold you in my arms and make love to you all day, but that wouldn’t solve my problems.”

  Julia placed her hand over his. “Then tell me you love me.”

  His eyes met hers. “I love you.”

  She breathed out a heavy sigh. “Go find your solution. But don’t forget that you aren’t the only person in the house. I don’t want to live with a ghost.”

  Gabriel’s eyes grew pained. He kissed her chastely, then exited the enclosed pool area.

  True to his word, Gabriel spent the afternoon in his study, behind a closed door.

  Julia had no idea what he was doing, although she hoped he was solving whatever problem it was that troubled him so deeply.

  Several different scenarios flew through her head. Perhaps Paulina had contacted him, hurling him into a tailspin. Perhaps the revelation of her brother’s illness had caused him to rethink his own desire for a child. Perhaps he was realizing that married life was not what he’d hoped it would be—that the thought of being tied to one woman, to her, was stifling.

  Julia’s anxiety increased. She could handle anything, she thought, but Gabriel’s coldness. She’d seen contempt in his eyes before. She’d been dismissed from his presence. She’d survived it once, but the mere thought of him leaving her again was crippling.

  In an effort to turn her attention elsewhere, she sat at her computer, investigating the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia and hypoplastic left heart syndrome.

  The hospital’s website gave her some hope. It described several patients who’d received the surgery her little brother would have to have. But each patient testimonial included the caveat that no one, not even the specialists at the hospital, could predict how healthy the patients would be when they became children, teenagers, or adults.

  She said a silent prayer for her father and Diane, and, lastly, for her brother. She asked God to help him and to give him health.

  Then her thoughts turned to her husband.

  She prayed for him. She prayed for their marriage. She’d thought their sexual activities the night before had brought them closer together and that they would free him to communicate with her.

  Now she worried they’d had the opposite effect. If Gabriel could communicate to her with his body, perhaps he failed to see the need to communicate with words.