Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy

by Sylvain Reynard

  She clenched her teeth. “I was fine. And he was nice!”

  “He put his hands on you.”

  “So what? We were dancing, and he kept me from hitting the floor when I tripped! I didn’t hear you asking me to dance.”

  Gabriel reclined against the banquette and regarded her with a slow and sinuous smile. “That would rather defeat the purpose of watching, don’t you think?”

  She tossed her hair and looked away from the Scotch-brightened sapphire of his eyes. She saw Brad trying to catch her eye from the dance floor, and she tried to indicate with her body that she and Gabriel were not together. A flash of understanding lit Brad’s eyes, and he nodded, before disappearing.

  “I promised you a taste.” Gabriel slid closer to Julia and held his glass close to her lips.

  “No.” She sniffed, turning sideways.

  “I insist.” His voice grew more forceful.

  Julia sighed and tried to take the glass out of his hand, but he held it fast.

  “Let me feed you,” he whispered, his tone suddenly husky.

  He sounded like sex. Or at least, what Julia imagined sex would sound like if it was sitting on a white banquette with shining blue eyes and an arrogant jaw, trying to press a cold glass up to her mouth.

  Oh my, Gabriel. Oh my, Gabriel. Oh my, Gabriel. Oh…my…Gabriel.

  “I can feed myself,” she breathed uncertainly.

  “Of course you can. But why should you, when I’m here to do it for you?” he countered, smiling in such a way as to show his perfect teeth.

  Julia didn’t want to drop his precious Scotch by accident, so she allowed him to press his drink against the curve of her lower lip, which he did slowly and sensuously. She closed her eyes and momentarily fixated on the feel of the cold, smooth glass against her flesh. He tipped his drink gently, until the smoky liquid penetrated her parted lips and flowed into her open and awaiting mouth.

  She was surprised that he was being so forward with her, so sensual. But she was even more surprised when the Scotch lit her mouth on fire, scorching her. She swallowed quickly.

  “That’s awful!” she sputtered. “It tastes like a campfire!”

  He moved backward and analyzed her face. She was flushed now and animated.

  “That’s the peat. It’s an acquired taste. You might decide it’s a taste you want to acquire, once you’ve tried it a few times.” He smirked at her, half of his mouth curling up.

  She shook her head while she coughed. “I doubt it. And by the way, I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. So unless I ask for help, please leave me be.”

  “Nonsense.” He gestured vaguely to the dance floor. “Grendel and his relatives would devour you given half a chance, and don’t bother arguing with me.”

  “I beg your pardon! Who do you think you are?”

  “Someone who recognizes naïveté and innocence when he sees it. Now sip your drink slowly like a good little girl, and stop acting like you belong in a place like this.” Gabriel glared at her darkly and finished his Scotch in one swallow. “Calamity Julianne.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, ‘naïveté and innocence’? Exactly what are you trying to say, Gabriel?”

  “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

  He grimaced and dropped his voice to a whisper, leaning toward her. Julia’s eyes rolled back in her head in spite of herself as his warm breath skimmed down her naked neck.

  “You blush like a teenager, Julianne. And I can sense your innocence. It’s more than obvious that you’re still a virgin. So stop pretending to be anything else.”

  “You! You—!” Julia jerked her ear away from him as she tried to think of a bad enough word in English. Sadly, she lapsed into Italian. “Stronzo!”

  At first Gabriel looked furious, then his face softened and he laughed—a throw your head back, close your eyes, and grasp your belly kind of laugh.

  Julia was furious. She sat there seething, drinking her Cosmo very quickly, and wondering how it was that Gabriel knew the truth about her and from so short a re-acquaintance. Surely Rachel hadn’t…She shook her head. Rachel wouldn’t. That information was personal, and she wouldn’t have spoken it aloud to anyone but Aaron. And Aaron was too much of a gentleman to repeat something like that, ever.

  While Gabriel grinned, Julia bemoaned the fact that he’d effectively ruined an opportunity to meet someone who looked like he was nice. Julia probably wouldn’t have given Brad her number because she didn’t do that sort of thing, but she wanted it to be her decision and not her Professor’s. He really was a prick. And it was time he changed.

  A few minutes later, their artificially blond-haired waitress came over and handed Julia a small gold box. “This is for you.”

  “I’m sorry, there must be some mistake. I didn’t order this.”

  “Obviously, dear. One of the guys at the bankers’ table sent it. And I was supposed to tell you that you’ll be breaking a heart if you send it back.” She smiled seductively at Gabriel. “Can I freshen your drink, Mr. Emerson?”

  “I think we’re fresh enough over here, thank you.” He kept his eyes fixed on Julia, watching as she turned the small box over in her hand. In it she found a business card and a single, gold foil-wrapped truffle. On the business card, she read:

  Brad Curtis, MBA

  Vice-President, Capital Markets

  The Bank of Montreal

  55 Bloor Street West, Fifth Floor

  Toronto, Ontario

  Tel. 416-555-2525

  She turned the card over and read the words that were written in a very confident hand:

  Julia,

  Sorry we got off on the wrong foot.

  The chocolate reminds me of your beautiful eyes,

  Brad.

  Please call me: 416-555-1491

  Julia turned the card over, and a smile spread across her oval face. He’d made a joke. He hadn’t thought her extreme awkwardness was a reason to reject her. And he hadn’t called her a virgin as if it were a curse word. He’d admired her eyes and thought she was attractive.

  She carefully unwrapped the truffle and popped it into her mouth. Heaven. How did he know she loved expensive chocolates? It had to be fate. She closed her eyes and savored the intense, dark taste, licking her lips to make sure she didn’t miss anything. An involuntary groan escaped her mouth.

  Why couldn’t I have met someone like him my freshman year at Saint Joseph’s?

  Meanwhile, Gabriel was gnawing through the knuckles of his right hand like a crazed animal. Once again, the sight of Miss Mitchell enjoying life’s little pleasures was one of the most erotic things he’d ever witnessed. The way her eyes grew wide at the sight of the truffle, the flush that painted her pretty cheeks in anticipation of tasting it, the way she moaned with a half-open mouth, and the way her tongue darted out to pick up the traces of cocoa that clung to her ruby lips…it really was too much.

  So of course, he had to ruin it.

  “You didn’t just eat that, did you?”

  Julia whipped her head around. She’d forgotten Gabriel was there, enmeshed as she was in her own chocolate-induced haze of pseudo-orgasmic ecstasy.

  “It was delicious.”

  “He could have drugged you. Don’t you know not to take candy from strangers, little girl?”

  “I suppose it’s all right to accept apples, Gabriel?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her non sequitur. He was missing something.

  “And I’m not a little girl,” she huffed.

  “Then stop acting like one. You aren’t going to keep that, are you?” He gestured to the box that was now poking out of Julia’s tiny handbag.

  “Why not? He seemed nice.”

  “You’d do that? You’d pick up a man in a bar?”

  Her eyebrows knit together, and her lower lip began to tremble. “I wasn’t picking him up! And I’m sure you’ve never picked up a woman in a bar before—and taken her home with you, which, I might add, I’ve never done. Not that it
’s even a shred of your business, Professor.”

  Gabriel’s face grew very red. He couldn’t contradict her; he wouldn’t be that hypocritical. But something about what had just transpired between Miss Mitchell and Grendel-the-blond-banker really rankled him, although he didn’t know why. He quickly waved to the waitress to order another Scotch.

  For her part, Julia ordered another Cosmopolitan, willing the fruity but potent mixture to help her forget the cruel but captivating man who sat achingly near to her, but whom she could never have.

  When Rachel returned, collapsing in exhaustion on the banquette, Julia stood up and excused herself. She entered the back hallway in search of the ladies’ room. Gabriel’s arrogance and condescension truly infuriated her. He didn’t want her, but now he didn’t want anyone else to have her either. What was his problem?

  She was so fixated on Gabriel that she didn’t see a man standing in the hallway. She ran right into him, springing backward and careening dangerously toward the floor. Luckily, the man caught her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, looking up into the amused face of Ethan, the bouncer.

  “No problem.” He released her immediately.

  “I was looking for the ladies’ room.”

  He pointed with his cell phone. “Other direction.” Returning to the text he’d been composing before she ran into him, he cursed. “Damn it.”

  “Did I break something?”

  Ethan shook his head. “No. I’m just having…text trouble.”

  Julia smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.” He eyed her appraisingly. “I’m impressed. Emerson doesn’t usually arrive with a lady.”

  “Why not?”

  Ethan snorted. “Are you serious? Look around you. How many couples do you think arrived together?”

  “Oh,” she said. “Is he here a lot?”

  Ethan looked at her carefully, wondering how much he should reveal. “You should probably ask him that.”

  She looked ill.

  When he saw her expression, he tried to comfort her. “Hey, he’s here with you tonight. That says something, doesn’t it?”

  She looked down at her hands and fidgeted with her fingernails. “Um, he isn’t really with me. I’m just an old friend of his sister.”

  She looked so sad, with those big brown eyes and that trembling lower lip, Ethan tried to think of something to distract her.

  “Julianne, you don’t happen to speak Italian do you?”

  She smiled. “Um, it’s Julia, actually. And yes, I do. I’m studying Italian at university.”

  Ethan’s expression instantly brightened. “Could you help me text something to my girlfriend? She’s Italian. I’d like to impress her.”

  “Gabriel’s Italian is better than mine. You should ask him.”

  Ethan shot her a look. “Are you kidding? I don’t want him anywhere near my woman. I see how women react to him here. They’re all over him.”

  Julia felt ill once again, but she pushed her revulsion aside. “Sure, I’ll translate whatever you want.”

  Ethan handed her his phone, and she began entering his words in Italian. She giggled slightly at some of the more intimate sounding phrases, but on the whole Julia was impressed that Ethan, for all his toughness and rough edges, cared enough about his girlfriend to tell her how much he loved her and to reassure her that he was keeping the women of Lobby at bay. She was just finishing the text when someone came up behind them.

  “Ahem.”

  Julia looked up into a familiar pair of angry blue eyes.

  “Mr. Emerson,” said Ethan.

  “Ethan,” Gabriel growled.

  Julia wasn’t sure her ears were working. It sounded like Gabriel had rumbled low in his chest like an animal, but that was impossible.

  She pressed send on the phone and handed it back to Ethan. “There you are. Now we’re all set.”

  “Thanks, Julia. I’ll send a drink over to you.” Ethan nodded at Gabriel and disappeared around a corner.

  Julia began to walk toward the restroom.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Gabriel followed her.

  “To the ladies’ room. What’s it to you?”

  He shot out his hand and grasped her wrist, grazing the pad of his thumb across the veins that were pulsating underneath her pale skin. She gasped.

  He moved her until they were hidden in a long, dark corridor, pushing her against a wall. He continued to hold her wrist, drinking in the feel of her quickening pulse beneath his fingers and placing his other hand on the wall next to her shoulder. She was trapped.

  Gabriel took a moment to inhale her vanilla scent and licked his lips, but his eyes were far from happy. “Why did you give him your number? He lives with a woman, you know. Now he’s buying you drinks and calling you Julia?”

  “That’s my name, Professor! You’re the only one who doesn’t use it. And at this point, even if you wanted to use it, I wouldn’t let you. I think you should have to call me Miss Mitchell forever. And I didn’t give him my number.”

  “You entered your number into his phone. Do you really put yourself out there with multiple men at the same time?”

  Julia shook her head, too angry to respond, and tried to duck under his elbow, but he caught her around the waist.

  “Dance with me.”

  She snickered. “Not a chance in hell.”

  “Don’t be so difficult.”

  “I’m just getting started being difficult with you, Professor.”

  “Watch it.” He sounded ominous.

  Julia waited a moment for the chill his tone gave her to travel up and down her spine. “Why don’t you just stick a knife into my heart and get it over with?” she whispered, looking him straight in the eye. “Haven’t you hurt me enough?”

  Gabriel released her immediately and reeled back. “Julianne.” Her name rolled off his tongue as something between a reproach and a question. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked very upset. Not angry, but upset. Wounded, perhaps.

  “Am I so evil?” His voice was low, just above a whisper.

  Julia shook her head no, and her shoulders sagged.

  “I have no wish to hurt you. Far from it.” He looked down at her intentionally submissive posture, and his eyes quickly sought her mouth. He watched her lower lip push out slightly and tremble. Her eyes darted around anxiously.

  She’s frightened, you asshole. Ease up!

  “You mentioned before that I hadn’t asked you to dance. Well, now I’m asking.” He softened his voice considerably. “Julianne, will you do me the honor of dancing with me? Please?”

  He flashed a winning smile and tilted his head a little…a signature seductive move. But it didn’t have the effect he desired, for Julia would not lift her head. He reached out to smooth his fingers gently across her wrist, as if he was trying to apologize to her skin. (Not that her skin would have accepted his apology.)

  Julia clutched at her neck instinctively, suddenly feeling as if she was experiencing physical whiplash from his emotional caprice. Gabriel gazed at the hand that fluttered against her milk-white throat, and once again he saw her blue veins quiver with every heartbeat.

  Like a hummingbird, he thought. So tiny. So fragile. Be careful…

  She swallowed noisily and eagerly searched out an exit.

  “Please,” he repeated, his eyes shining in the darkness.

  “I can’t dance.”

  “You were just dancing.”

  “Not slow dancing. I’ll step on your toes and injure you with these heels. Or I’ll trip and end up on the floor, and you’ll be humiliated. You’re already angry with me…” Her lower lip began to tremble more noticeably.

  He took a step closer, and she pressed herself more tightly against the wall, almost as if she was trying to disappear through it in order to escape him. He took her hand and regally lifted it to his lips. Then with a smile firmly on his face, he inched forward, leaning down and bringing his mouth to her ear
. Julia’s skin vibrated with his nearness and the feel of his breath across her skin.

  “Julianne, how could I stay angry with someone so sweet? I promise I won’t become cross or humiliated. You’ll be able to dance with me.” His whisper was bracing and soft, sexual and seductive, Scotch and peppermint. “Come.”

  He took her hand in his, and the same familiar spark coursed across her skin. As he waited for her to respond, he felt her still beneath his touch, and he wondered at the strange reaction she was having to him. It seemed as if his charm was actually working, even though she’d been shaking a moment before.

  “Please, Professor,” she breathed, fixating on his shirt front, unwilling to meet his gaze.

  “I thought we were supposed to be Gabriel and Julianne tonight.”

  “You don’t really want to dance with me. It’s just the Scotch talking.”

  His eyebrows shot up, and he had to bite back a harsh retort. She was pushing his buttons, almost as if she knew exactly which buttons to push and when.

  “One slow dance. That’s all I ask.”

  “Why would you want to dance with a virgin?” she whispered, suddenly fascinated by the bows on her shoes.

  His spine stiffened. “Not just any virgin, but you, Julianne. I thought you might want to dance with someone who wasn’t about to molest you on the dance floor and take liberties with you in front of a club full of sexually-aggressive men.”

  She appeared skeptical but said nothing.

  “I’m trying to keep the wolves at bay,” he said, his voice low.

  A lion in charge of wolves, she thought. How convenient.

  He hadn’t made a joke; he was looking at her seriously, his intense blue eyes boring into hers.

  “One dance with me and they’ll know enough to leave you alone. That should be an improvement over the current state of affairs.” He smiled faintly. “If I’m very lucky, no one will bother you for the rest of the evening, and I won’t have to guard my charge so closely.”

  She bristled at his characterization but relented, realizing that at this stage of his life he was used to getting his way—always.