Gabriel's Inferno 01 - Gabriel's Inferno

by Sylvain Reynard

  He pushed her gently so that she was on her back and he was kneeling on either side of her hips. “I want you to wear something that would make you feel comfortable and beautiful, because that’s how I want you to feel when we’re together.” He captured her mouth and kissed her intently.

  When he pulled back she eyed him impishly. “As comfortable as a Lululemon yoga outfit?”

  He seemed puzzled. “I don’t know what lou lemons are, but provided they make you comfortable, I’m sure I wouldn’t object.”

  She arched her neck so that she could rub the tips of their noses together. “You’re lovely, you know that? But I was serious when I asked you. I want to choose something you’ll like.”

  “I’ll like anything provided you are the one wearing it.”

  He kissed her again, and this time he allowed himself the luxury of lowering his naked chest so that it was close to but not touching hers. Heat and electricity jumped between their skin, and soon Julia was breathless.

  “Color?” She gasped. “Style preference?”

  Now he was chuckling, and stroking her cheek as it flushed beneath his fingers. “Well, not black or red.”

  “I thought those were the standard colors. They’re supposed to be seductive.”

  He moved to the side so he could whisper in her ear. “You have already seduced me. I am enticed and tantalized and very, very excited.”

  Now the room grew warm, and she forgot what her next question was supposed to be. Finally, she remembered. “So no black or red. Any favorite colors?”

  “You’re stubborn, aren’t you? I think you would look nice in light colors—white, pink, blue. I suppose I could say I envisioned you in something classic, with your hair cascading down your shoulders. But this isn’t about me, this is about you. And I think you should choose.” He grinned. “Of course, I might decide to purchase an item or two for you while we’re there. But for our first time, it’s all about what you want. What makes you feel special and sexy and cherished. That’s what I want because I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  She smiled up at him, and he thought his heart would melt. She took his face in her hand, running a thumb across his angular jaw, and he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. When he opened his eyes, they were clear, bright, and very hungry.

  She had to look away. “I need to get ready. What time do we have to leave for Philadelphia?”

  He began to kiss across her collarbone from one shoulder to another. “After—kiss—breakfast—kiss. Our flight is around dinnertime—kiss—and we have to be at the airport early.” Double kiss.

  She kissed him once more and disappeared on her crutches into the hallway.

  Downstairs, Richard was a whirling dervish of activity, making and serving Sunday breakfast for his hungry family. Scott was eating everything that wasn’t nailed down or claimed by anyone else, and Rachel and Aaron were poring over pictures of Philadelphia wedding reception venues on Aaron’s Blackberry.

  “There they are.” Rachel greeted her brother and her best friend when they entered the kitchen.

  “I need to give this back to you,” Julia whispered as she began to undo the scarf she had knotted around her neck.

  “Keep it. Mom would have wanted you to have it.”

  Julia pressed her friend into a grateful hug. Once again she was thankful for her generosity, and also for Grace, whose generous presence never seemed far away.

  “You look happy this morning.” Scott poured Julia a glass of orange juice as she sat down.

  “I am. I really am.”

  “Make sure he treats you right,” he whispered, his expression serious.

  “He has changed, Scott. He…loves me.” She spoke in a low voice so no one else could hear.

  Scott gazed at her in surprise. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, changing the subject.

  “Simon was supposed to have a bail hearing yesterday. His lawyer was trying to have him released.” He looked at Julia cautiously. “I haven’t been able to find out what happened.”

  It took a moment for his words to register, but when they did, she was seized with anxiety. She knocked her orange juice over accidentally, turning her breakfast into a sticky, juice soaked disaster.

  She blinked rapidly as she tried to regain her composure, trying to mop up her latest mess, cursing herself for being such a bundle of nerves.

  Gabriel has to be tired of watching me drop things. I am such an idiot.

  Before she could stand to her feet, a hand appeared in front of her face. Julia looked up into a pair of concerned sapphire eyes. Gabriel moved his hand slightly, encouraging her to take it. He pulled her into his side and seated her on a different bar stool, kissing her forehead quickly.

  “You’re safe now,” he whispered. “I won’t let him near you.” For good measure, Gabriel rubbed her arms up and down comfortingly.

  While Richard prepared another waffle, Gabriel picked up her ruined breakfast and headed to the sink.

  “I’ll do that. Sit with your girl.” Scott’s voice was low and gruff at Gabriel’s elbow. “And I’m sorry.”

  No one noticed the subtle exchange between the two brothers—the prodigal son and the son of constancy. Their eyes met and a look of understanding and perhaps even forgiveness passed between them. Gabriel nodded gratefully and took a seat by Julia, wrapping his arm around her waist and murmuring soothing words in her ear until she stopped shaking.

  He had to get her out of Selinsgrove.

  As they drove away, Julia closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been an emotional morning. Saying good-bye to her adoptive family was always difficult. And saying good-bye to her father after the weekend’s events was exhausting.

  “Are you sorry to leave?” Gabriel reached over to stroke her cheek.

  She opened her eyes. “Part of me didn’t want to leave. Part of me couldn’t wait to put everything behind me.”

  “I feel the same way.”

  “What did my dad say to you when he shook your hand?”

  Gabriel shifted in his seat. “He thanked me. He said he knew you could have been hurt a lot worse.” Gabriel threaded his long fingers through Julia’s, pulling her hand to his lips so that he could kiss it. “He asked me to keep an eye on his little girl. He said you were everything to him.”

  That made a tear run down Julia’s cheek. She wiped it away and looked out the window. Things with her father had certainly changed.

  On the flight back to Toronto, Julia cuddled up to Gabriel, eschewing her homework to rest her head on his shoulder.

  “I need to make arrangements for our trip,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

  “When will we leave?”

  “I’d planned on leaving as soon as classes were over on Friday. But if you’re coming, I’ll need to wait until after Katherine turns in your grade. My lecture is on December tenth. Could we leave on the eighth?”

  “I think so. I have to submit essays on Friday, and Katherine is expecting a draft of part of my thesis then too. I’m assuming she’ll submit my grades within a few days, so I could probably leave on the eighth. When were you planning on coming back?”

  Gabriel moved his arm so that it was wrapped around her and she was resting her head against his shoulder. “Rachel is adamant about having everyone home for Christmas. That includes you. So we would have to leave Italy on the twenty-third or the twenty-fourth and bypass Toronto for Philadelphia. Unless you’d rather spend Christmas in Italy, with me.”

  Julia laughed. “Not at the risk of incurring the wrath of Rachel. And my dad is expecting me, even though he knows I can’t stay at his house.” She shivered involuntarily.

  Gabriel squeezed her. “Then you can stay with me. We’ll reserve a room at a hotel. I’m not sleeping across the hall from you ever again.”

  She blushed at his remark and smiled.

  “We’ll have two weeks to enjoy Florence. Or we can tr
avel to Venice and Rome, if you wish. We could rent a villa in Umbria. I know of a place near Todi that’s very beautiful. I’d like to show it to you.”

  “As long as I’m with you, my love, I don’t care where we are.”

  His lips tightened momentarily. “Bless you for that,” he murmured.

  “Rachel is scheduling the wedding for late August, provided the venue they want is available. I wonder why she wants to wait so long.” Julia was fishing to see if Gabriel had any information.

  He shrugged. “Knowing Rachel, she’ll need months to make sure the proper people are notified and the wedding is featured on CNN.”

  They both chuckled.

  “I think Rachel wants to start a family soon,” said Julia. “I wonder what Aaron thinks of that.”

  “He loves her. He wants to marry her. He’s probably excited at the thought of the love of his life carrying his child.”

  He paused for a moment, turning to face her. “Julianne, does it trouble you that I can’t…?”

  “Not really, at least not right now. I want to finish my master’s, then work on my doctorate. I’d like to teach.” She shrugged. “Perhaps this is the benefit of dating a younger woman.”

  Gabriel snorted. “You make me sound antique. You realize that when you’re thirty you will probably change your mind, if not sooner. And when that happens…”

  She frowned and shook her head. “What do you expect me to say—that I don’t want you? I’m not going to say that. I love you, Gabriel, all of you. Please don’t push me away when we’ve finally gotten close.” She closed her eyes. “It hurts.”

  “Forgive me,” he whispered, kissing the back of her hand.

  She accepted his apology and tried to relax, weary from the day’s emotions.

  Gabriel rubbed at his eyes so that he could think. But he soon realized that he needed space and time away from her in order to do that.

  I won’t need to push you away when I tell you about Paulina…

  ***

  The first week of December was the last week of classes. It was a quiet week, for the most part. Gabriel and Julia dutifully kept their distance from one another. Every evening he prepared his lecture for the Uffizi Gallery in his spacious condominium while she worked tirelessly on her essays and her thesis in her tiny hobbit hole.

  They texted one another mercilessly:

  Darling, I miss you.

  Come over? Love, G

  Julia smiled at the screen of her iPhone in such a way that even the iPhone blushed. Then she typed her reply:

  G, I miss you too.

  I’m finishing an essay for this

  crazy Dante seminar I’m taking.

  I’ll probably be up all night.

  The professor is hot but demanding.

  I love you, Julia

  She turned her attention back to her laptop as she continued editing her essay for Katherine. Within a few minutes, her iPhone was chirping again:

  Darling, You’re in luck—

  I am a Dante specialist.

  Why don’t you bring your essay over here

  and I will help you with it…all night…

  Love, G

  P.S. How hot?

  Julia giggled at his message and hit reply:

  Dearest Dante Specialist,

  My professor is hot like fire,

  scotch bonnet peppers, and chicken vindaloo.

  I know what your all-nighter

  would include—and it wouldn’t be

  finishing my essay.

  Rain check for Friday?

  Love, Your Julia. XO

  Julia stared at her iPhone waiting for another text message. But it didn’t come until she was in the bathroom:

  Darling Julia,

  That’s pretty hot.

  Your rejection of my invitation

  has reduced me to a sea of loneliness,

  which I will now chase away

  with a shot of Scotch and

  two chapters of Graham Greene.

  Your X and O almost make up for it.

  I Love You, G.

  P.S. You are hot like the sun

  but far more lovely.

  Julia smiled to herself and sent back a brief message, telling him how much she loved him. Then she spent the rest of her evening working.

  They finally met in person at his last seminar on Wednesday, which was made all the more interesting by Christa Peterson’s conspicuous behavior. She was quiet. She was still dressed fashionably, in an aubergine-colored cashmere sweater-dress that clung tantalizingly to her chest and derrière. Her makeup was flawless, her hair long and impeccably groomed. But her expression was sour, and she didn’t take notes. Her arms remained crossed defensively across her ample breasts.

  When Professor Emerson asked a question that she knew, she refused to raise her hand. When he looked over the rims of his glasses to see if he could coax her into participating, she scowled and looked away. Were it not for the fact that his mind was on Dante’s Paradiso, he might have grown uneasy. But he didn’t.

  Christa was conspicuous not only in her silence but in her blatant hostility toward Julia, for whom she reserved the vilest of glares.

  “What crawled up her butt?” Julia whispered to Paul as soon as the class was over.

  He snickered. “Maybe she finally realized Emerson will never pass her dissertation proposal so she’s contemplating a career change. There’s a strip club on Yonge Street that’s looking to hire. She might have what it takes to work there. Or not.”

  Now it was Julia’s turn to snicker.

  “By the way, I like your scarf. Very French.” Paul grinned at her good-naturedly. “A gift from the boyfriend?”

  “No. My best friend back home.”

  “Well, it looks nice on you.”

  Julia smiled at him, and they both packed up their books and walked home through the delicately cascading snow, telling (slightly edited) stories about their separate Thanksgivings.

  Chapter 31

  By Friday, Professor Emerson was in a foul mood. He’d spent almost an entire week without Julianne, and he’d had to watch her walk away with Paul after his seminar, without so much as a glance in his direction. He had to keep his distance when all he wanted to do was touch her and tell everyone she was his. Sleeping naked in the darkness, the demons had come and nightmares had taunted and oppressed him—nightmares normally held at bay by her very presence, a luminescence unequalled by the brightest star. A star he would soon have to live without.

  He knew that he had to tell his secrets before they boarded the plane. Thus, he rued the fact that his (possibly) last week with Julianne had been spent alone. He’d changed his ticket and made all of the reservations for Julianne to accompany him to Florence, but he did so half-heartedly and not without investing in travel cancellation insurance, for he truly believed that she would leave him. He dreaded the moment when her wide, innocent eyes would darken and she would reject him as unworthy. But he would not allow her to gift her innocence to such a demon unknowingly. He would not play Cupid to her Psyche.

  For that would be demonic.

  Consequently, it was with undisguised coolness that he greeted her Friday evening when she arrived in time for dinner. He kissed her forehead fraternally and stepped aside, indicating that she should enter.

  Abandon hope, he thought to himself.

  Julia knew that something was wrong, and it wasn’t solely because she could hear the strains of Puccini’s Madama Butterfly wafting from the living room. Usually Gabriel greeted her with a hug and a few passionate kisses before removing her coat. Instead he stood there, not even making eye contact, waiting for her to speak.

  “Gabriel?” She reached up to touch his face. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” he lied, turning his face away. “Can I get you a drink?”

  Julia resisted the urge to nag him for information and instead requested a glass of wine. She hoped he would be more forthcoming over dinner.

  He
wasn’t. He served their dinner in silence, and when Julia tried to make polite small talk over the roast beef, he responded monosyllabically. She told him she’d completed all of her schoolwork for the semester and that Katherine Picton had agreed to turn her grades in before December eighth, but Gabriel only nodded in response, glaring into his soon to be empty wine glass.

  Julia had never seen him drink so heavily. He was already drunk the night she rescued him at Lobby. But this night was different. He wasn’t flirtatious and happy, he was tormented. With each glass, she grew more and more worried, but every time she opened her mouth to say something, she would catch a glimpse of fleeting sadness on his face, which made her refrain. He grew progressively cooler and more detached with each drink, so much so that by the time he served one of his housekeeper’s homemade apple pies for dessert, Julia waved it aside and demanded that he silence Maria Callas so that they could talk.

  That drew his attention, since the pie (and the Butterfly) was the culmination of his supper. His Last Supper.

  “Nothing is wrong,” he huffed, as he strode over to the stereo to stop the operatic performance.

  “Gabriel, don’t lie to me. It’s obvious you’re upset. Just tell me. Please.”

  The sight of Julianne, innocent Julianne, with her big brown eyes and her now furrowed brow almost undid him.

  Did she have to be so sweet? So giving? Did she have to be compassionate? With a beautiful soul?

  His guilt compounded. Perhaps it was a mercy that he hadn’t seduced her. Her heart would mend more readily now, since they had not known each other sexually. They’d only been together for a few weeks. She would dry her tears quickly and maybe find a quiet, peaceful affection with someone good and constant, like Paul.

  The thought made him violently ill.

  Without a word, he walked over to the sideboard and grabbed one of the decanters and a crystal glass. He returned to his seat and poured two fingers’ worth of Scotch. He drank half of it in one swallow and thumped his glass down roughly. He waited for the burning sensation in his throat to abate. He waited for the liquid courage to adhere to his insides, fortifying him. But it would take much more Scotch to dull the ache in his heart.