Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno 3)

“Then don’t present yourself as anything else,” Katherine snapped. “You aren’t from Columbia. You attend Columbia. I repeat, why are you here?”

When Christa didn’t respond, Professor Picton stepped closer, raising her voice.

“Are you hard of hearing? I asked you a question. What are you doing at my conference, insulting my guests?”

Christa almost faltered, feeling the energy in the room shift under Professor Picton’s antipathy. Even Professor Pacciani took a step back.

“I’m here to attend your lecture, like everyone else.”

Katherine straightened to her full five feet and looked up at the much taller and half-century younger graduate student.

“Your name isn’t on the guest list. I certainly didn’t invite you.”

“Professor Picton, excuse me. The young lady is a friend.” Professor Pacciani smoothly interceded. He bowed and moved to kiss Professor Picton’s hand, but she waved at him dismissively.

“As a companion of yours, Giuseppe, her attendance might be excusable. But barely.” She glared at him. “You need to teach her some manners.”

Katherine turned to address Christa directly.

“I know the havoc you wreaked in Toronto. Your lies almost destroyed my department. You’ll follow the rules of decorum here, or I’ll have you removed. Do you understand?”

Without waiting for a response, Katherine began scolding Pacciani in fluid Italian, pointing out in no uncertain terms that if his friend made her guests’ visit unpleasant in any way, she would hold him personally responsible.

She added that she had a perfect and unforgiving memory.

(It should be mentioned that she was correct.)

“Capisce?” She glared at him through her glasses.

“Certo, Professor.” He bowed, his face drawn and angry.

“I’m the injured party,” Christa protested. “When I was in Toronto, Gabriel—”

“Codswallop,” Katherine spat. “I’m old, not senile. I recognize a woman scorned when I see one. And so should everyone else.” At this, Katherine directed her scathing expression to the men who had surrounded Christa, eager to give ear to her gossip.

“What’s more, inviting yourself to an invitation-only event is unprofessional in the extreme. This isn’t a fraternity party.”

Professor Picton looked around the room once more, pausing as if to challenge anyone to contradict her. Under her withering stare, the prurient onlookers began shuffling their feet and backing away.

Seemingly satisfied, she turned her attention back to Miss Peterson and lifted her chin. “I believe I’m quite finished.”

With that, she favored Christa with her back. The other occupants of the room stood by, somewhat shell-shocked by just having witnessed the academic equivalent of a mud-wrestling match, handily won by a small (but feisty) septuagenarian.

“My dear friends, it’s good to see you. How was your flight?” Katherine placed her arm around Julia’s stiff shoulders, giving her a fraternal squeeze, before shaking Gabriel’s hand.

“The flight was fine. We spent a few days in London before arriving by train.” Gabriel kissed Professor Picton’s cheek. He tried to force a smile but failed.

“I’m not impressed with the fact that they’ve admitted riffraff.” Katherine sniffed. “I must speak to the conference organizers. It’s bad enough that you young people should be subjected to such a person, but to have to endure her in public. What a ridiculous girl.”

Professor Picton’s aged eyes quickly took in Julia’s expression of distress, and her demeanor softened.

“I’ll buy you a drink this evening, Julianne. I think it’s time for us to have a little chat.”

The professor’s words jarred Julia out of her quietude. A thinly veiled expression of terror flashed across her features.

Gabriel grasped her around the waist. “That’s very generous, Katherine, but why don’t you join us for dinner, instead?”

“Thank you, I’d enjoy that. But I’ll speak to Julianne first.” She turned to her former student, her expression kind. “Come and find me after the last lecture and we’ll walk to The Bird and Baby.”

Professor Picton took her leave and was immediately surrounded by several academic admirers.

It took a moment for Julia to regain her composure, but when she did, she leaned against Gabriel.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“I’m sorry Katherine interrupted when she did. I would have liked to say a few words.”

Julia began wringing her hands. “I never should have answered Christa. We should have walked away.”

Gabriel’s expression tightened. He looked around, then brought his mouth close to her ear. “You stood up for yourself, which was the right thing to do. And I’m not going to stand there and let her call you a whore.”

“If we’d walked away, she wouldn’t have gotten that far.”

“Bullshit. She’s already slandering us. You said so yourself.”

Julia’s face was marked by disappointment. “I asked you to stop.”

“And I explained that I wasn’t about to let her speak to you that way.” He clenched his jaw and released it. “Let’s not fight because of that bitch. That’s precisely what she wants.”

“She was spoiling for a fight. And you gave it to her.” Julia glanced around the rapidly emptying room. “Tomorrow I have to stand up in front of everyone, knowing that they witnessed that embarrassing scene.”

“If I’d said nothing, if I’d done nothing, then it would look like I agreed with her.” Gabriel’s voice rumbled, low in his throat.

“I asked you to stop, and you brushed me off.” She gave him a wounded look. “I’m your wife. Not a speed bump.”

She clutched her old Fendi messenger bag and followed the crowd into the lecture theater.

Chapter Ten

Professor Emerson seethed with anger as he watched his wife walk away. He wanted to drag Christa Peterson outside by her hair and teach her a lesson. Unfortunately, based on her seductive behavior when she was his student, she’d probably enjoy it.

(And take photographs for her scrapbook.)

It was not like him to want to strike a woman.

Or perhaps it was. Perhaps it was precisely like him to want to strike a woman. Anger and violence were written in the bone, the product of DNA. Perhaps Gabriel was just like his father.