Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno 1)

He smiled at her reaction. “Wait here while I check to see if Paul has his gun out, waiting to shoot the wolf to save the duck.”

He quickly peered into the empty hallway. “Hurry up. We’ll take the stairs.” He pulled Julia swiftly through the door and locked it behind them.

“Are you okay to walk? We can take the short cut through Victoria College and walk up Charles Street. Or I could call a cab,” he whispered, as he opened the door to the stairwell for her.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Home.”

She relaxed minutely.

“Home… with me,”  he clarified, bringing his face closer to hers.

“I thought I pushed all of your buttons.”

Gabriel pulled his face back and straightened up to his full height.

“You do. All of them. But it’s six o’clock, and you’re fainting from hunger. There’s no way in hell I’m taking you somewhere public after what happened. And I can’t cook you a proper dinner at your place.”

“But you’re still angry. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I’m sure you’re angry with me too. But hopefully, we’ll get over it.

Right now, every time I look at you all I can think about is kissing you.”

Gabriel released her and began to lead her down the stairs.

“Paul could take me home.”

“I told you — fuck Paul. You’re my  Beatrice. You belong with me. ”

“Gabriel, I’m not anyone’s Beatrice. The delusions have to stop.”

He placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “Neither of us has a monopoly on delusions. Our only hope is to take time to discover who we really are and decide if that’s a reality we both can live with.

“I’ve had enough vexation with you to last a lifetime, and I’m putting an end to it tonight. We’re going to sit down and have the conversation I wanted to have with you ten days ago. I’m not letting you out of my sight until that’s happened. End of discussion.”

With one look at the resolve on his face, Julia realized there was no point in arguing. As he led her through a side door and behind the building, she pulled out her cell phone and guiltily sent Paul a text. She told him she was okay, that she was too embarrassed to talk about it, and was already on her way home.

Paul had been hovering by the elevators, staying out of sight as he waited for Julia to come out. He’d walked by The Professor’s door once or twice but hadn’t heard anything. He didn’t want to antagonize Emerson by waiting outside his door.

As soon as he received her text, he immediately ran back to the office. He knocked on Emerson’s door, but no one answered. Paul ran to the stairwell and flew down the stairs hoping that he could catch her.

Gabriel followed Julia into his apartment. “Did you eat lunch?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Julianne! What about breakfast?”

“I had coffee…”

He swore under his breath. “You need to take better care of yourself.

No wonder you’re so pale. Come.”

He led her to the red velvet wing-back chair in the living room and made her sit down, gently lifting her feet and placing them on top of the ottoman.

“I don’t need to sit down over here. I could sit in the kitchen, with you.”

Gabriel glared at her mildly as he turned on the gas fireplace. He let his hand pass over her head, brushing back her hair.

“Kittens should be curled up in a chair by the fire on a day like today.

You’re safer here than on one of the bar stools. I’m going to make dinner, but I need to step out and pick up a few things. Wil you be al right by yourself?”

“Of course, Gabriel. I’m not an invalid.”

“If you feel scorched, flip the switch and the inferno will go out.”

He leaned over and pressed a kiss on top of her hair before walking to the front door. “Promise me you won’t leave before I come back,” he called.

“I promise.” Julia wondered if he was really that worried about losing her.

She thought back to what had happened in the lecture and the events in his office. She wondered if it was lack of food that made her light-headed, or Gabriel’s kiss. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he’d affected her this way…

Julia closed her eyes just for a moment as the dull roar of the fire hummed in her ears, and she fell fast asleep.

The sound of a woman’s voice, passionate and soulful, floated through the air. Julia recognized the song before she opened her eyes. Gabriel was playing Edith Piaf, Non, je ne regrette rien. It was an extraordinary choice.

Julia opened her eyes to find Gabriel smiling down on her, looking very much like a troubled angel — an angel with dark hair, a mouth made for sin, and piercing blue eyes. He’d changed into a black button down shirt and a pair of black trousers, his shirtsleeves pushed up to expose muscled forearms.

“Julianne?” He smiled and offered her his hand.

She took it, and he led her into the dining room. Gabriel had set his formal dining table with a white linen tablecloth and lit the candles in an ornate silver candelabra. She saw two place settings of china, crystal, and silver, and a bottle of what appeared to be champagne.

Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin vintage  2002, she read on the label.

“Are you pleased?” He stood behind her and rubbed her arms with his hands.

“It’s beautiful,” she managed, eyeing the expensive champagne with suspicion.

“Then allow me.” He pulled her chair out and handed her a white linen napkin. “I’ve tried a second time with the flowers. Please don’t destroy them like you did the last ones.”

Gabriel smiled wryly as he gestured to a tall, modern glass vase that held an arrangement of purple hyacinths.

“If you’re good, I’ll let you read the card,” he whispered, as he poured her a glass of champagne. Without waiting to watch her taste it, he disappeared into the kitchen.

With a quick look over her shoulder to be sure she wasn’t being watched, Julia removed the card that was nestled among the flowers. In it she read: My Dear Julianne,

If you wish to know how I feel about you, just ask me.

Yours,

Gabriel

Smug bastard, Julia thought before she hastily replaced the card.

As she sat there, annoyed, a number of different things caught her attention. Gabriel had chosen Edith Piaf for mood music; she was now singing La Vie en Rose. The tablecloth, the place settings, the champagne, the flowers…he hadn’t gone to such trouble for Rachel.

All the arguing and passion in his office had lit their bodies on fire.

And the way he’d kissed her…Julia had never been kissed like that before, even by him. She shivered in remembrance, solely from pleasure. It was a new feeling, but not an unwelcome one.

Foreplay.

She knew that he’d struggled to stop kissing her, as if he were at war with himself. The tension between them had been palpable, almost concrete.

She knew that he was a very sexual man who was never in want of female companionship, by his own admission. Now that he had tasted her while sober, he wanted her. It was overwhelming to be desired by such a tempting, sensual creature. She felt like Psyche being desired by Cupid. And she could not deny the attraction she felt for him, or the way she fluttered with longing when he kissed her.

But Julia did not share, which made all other romantic or sexual considerations moot. She decided to wait until after the salad course to tell him that.

When Gabriel sat next to her at the head of the table, he picked up his water glass and toasted their evening. As they clinked their glasses together, Julia realized he wasn’t drinking champagne.

“No Veuve Clicquot?”  she asked, sipping away incredulously.

He smiled at her and shook his head. “Non, seulement de l’eau ce soir.

Mon ange.”

Julia rolled her eyes at Gabriel’s French, but it wasn’t because his pronunciation was faulty.

“You will probably find this difficult to believe, but I don’t drink all the time. Nevertheless, I don’t expect you to finish this bottle by yourself.

We’ll save it for Mimosas for breakfast.”

Julia’s eyebrows shot up. Breakfast? You’re awfully sure of yourself, Casanova.

“I searched my collection for a vintage from 2003 but had to make due with 2002.”

It took a moment for Julia to realize the significance of the year, and when the realization hit her she blushed and looked down at her hands.

Gabriel watched her over his salad but said nothing. He’d hoped for a more vocal reaction, but he surmised rather quickly that she was overwhelmed by the tumult of the day.

She’s nervous; she’s quivering, and her face is flushed.

Gabriel reached over to stroke the skin at her wrist from time to time, just to reassure her. Whenever their eyes met he would stop whatever he was doing and smile at her encouragingly, hoping that she’d engage him in conversation. But she would only duck her head and look down at her plate — until the strains of a certain song filled their ears.

Besame, besame mucho…

Gabriel watched Julia carefully. When she reacted to the music, as well as turning a deeper shade of rose, he winked.

“Do you remember this song?”