Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno 1)

Despite his failings, Gabriel was her favorite. And as the baby of the family and ten years younger, she was his favorite too. He’d never fought with her the way he’d fought with Scott or their father. He’d always and only protected her — loved her, even. At his worst, there was no possibility of Gabriel intentionally hurting Rachel. She’d only been hurt by watching him hurt everyone else. Especially himself.

She knew that upon closer inspection Gabriel would make a lousy poker player. He had too many tells, too many ways he revealed his inner turmoil. He shut his eyes when he was close to losing his temper. He rubbed his face when he was frustrated. He paced when he was distressed or afraid.

Rachel watched him begin to pace and wondered what he was afraid of.

“Why are you so worried about her? You weren’t that friendly when she was here for dinner. You won’t call her Julia. ”

“She’s my student. I have to be professional.”

“Professionally mean?”

Gabriel stood still and scowled.

“Fine. I’ll take the money for Julia, and I’ll buy her a briefcase. But I’d rather buy her shoes.”

Gabriel sat back on his bar stool. “Shoes?”

“Yes. What if we were to buy her something to wear? She likes pretty things, she just can’t afford them. And she’s cute, don’t you think?”

Gabriel twitched beneath his gray wool trousers. He brought his thighs closer together to hide the disturbing fact from his sister.

“Spend the money on whatever you like, but you must replace the book bag.”

“Good! I’ll buy her something fabulous. But I’ll probably need more money…and we should take her somewhere special so she can show off her new clothes.” Rachel batted her eyes playfully at her older brother.

Without argument or negotiation, he removed a business card from his wallet, picked up his Montblanc fountain pen, and slowly unscrewed the cap.

“Do normal people still use those kinds of pens, or just medievalists?”

She leaned over inquisitively. “I’m surprised you’re not using a quill.”

Gabriel frowned. “This is a Meisterstuck  149 ,”  he said, as if that should mean something.

Rachel rolled her eyes as he used his sparkling eighteen karat gold nib to write a brief note on the back of his business card in a confident but old-fashioned hand. Her brother was beyond pretentious.

“There.” He slid the business card across the counter. “I have an account at Holt Renfrew. Show this to the concierge, and he will direct you to Hilary, my personal shopper. She’ll place everything on my account. Don’t go completely mad, Rachel, and you can keep the cash for yourself. Happy Birthday, six months in advance.”

She leaned over to press a light kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. What’s Holt Renfrew?”

“The Canadian Saks Fifth Avenue — they have everything. But you must replace the book bag. That’s all I care about. The rest are just…inconsequential details.” His voice sounded gruff all of a sudden.

“Fine. But I want you to explain why you’re so agitated about an L. L.

Bean knapsack. All the undergrads had one. I had one, for crying out loud.

Before I grew up and discovered Longchamp.”

“I don’t know.” Gabriel removed his glasses and began rubbing his eyes.

“Hmmm. Should I add lingerie to my shopping list? Do you like her — like her?” Rachel grinned annoyingly.

He snorted. “How old are we, Rachel? Remember, she’s my student.

It isn’t about romance — it’s about penance.”

“Penance?”

“Penance. For sin. My sin.”

Rachel snorted. “You really are medieval. What sin have you committed against Julia? Apart from being a jackass! You don’t even know her…”

He replaced his glasses, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He was twitching at the mere thought  of sin and Miss Mitchell. Together. In the same room. With him. And nothing else…except perhaps a pair of couture stilettos…which he could finally touch…

“Gabriel? I’m waiting.”

“I don’t need to confess my sins to you, Rachel. I just need to atone for them.” He snatched the magazine out of her hand.

She set her teeth. “How good is your French? And your knowledge of women’s fashion?”

Gabriel glanced down to find the magazine open to a photo of an airbrushed and spread-eagled model wearing a très petite white bikini. His eyes widened.

Rachel crossed her arms in annoyance and glared at him. “Don’t bark at me. I’m not one of your students, and I’m not going to put up with your shit.”

He sighed and began to rub his eyes again, minutely adjusting his glasses to do so.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, returning the magazine, but not before he gave the model one more serious look, purely for research purposes, bien sûr.

“Why are you wound up so tight? Are you having girl troubles? Do you even have a girl right now? When was the last time you had one? And by the way, what’s with those photos in your…”

He interrupted her quickly. “I’m not having this conversation with you. I don’t ask who you’re f**king.”

Rachel bit back an angry response and took a very deep breath. “I’m going to forgive you for that remark, even though it was insensitive and crass. When you’re down on your knees making your penance, include the sin of envy, will you?

“You know I’ve only ever been with Aaron. And I think you know that what we do together goes way beyond what you said. What’s wrong with you?”

Gabriel muttered an apology and refused to make eye contact. But his warning shot across the bow had accomplished what he wished it to, and that was to divert her attention from one of her questions. So he felt no remorse. Not really.

Rachel toyed with her brother’s business card for a moment as she tried to calm down.

“If you don’t like Julia, then you must feel sorry for her. Why? Is it just because she’s poor?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed and shook his head.

“Julia brings out the protective side in people. She was always a little sad and a little lost. Although make no mistake, she has steel in her bones.

She survived an alcoholic mother and a boyfriend who…”

Gabriel’s blue eyes shifted to hers with interest. “Who?” he prompted.

“You said you didn’t want to know about her personal life. It’s too bad, really. If you and she weren’t in a professional relationship, you might have liked her. You might have been friends.”

She smiled at him, testing the waters, but Gabriel kept his eyes on the breakfast bar and began rubbing his chin absently.

Rachel drummed her fingers on the countertop. “Do you want me to tell her the briefcase and the shoes are from you?”

“Of course not! I could get fired for that. Someone will jump to the wrong conclusion, and I’ll be hauled in before the judicial committee.”

“I thought you were tenured.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.

“So you want to spend all of this money on Julia, and you don’t care if she knows that they gifts are from you? It’s a bit like Cyrano de Bergerac, don’t you think? I guess your French is better than I thought.”

He stood up, effectively ignoring her, and walked over to the large espresso machine on one of the counters. He began the somewhat laborious process of making the perfect espresso, keeping his back to his annoying sister.

She sighed. “All right. You want to do something nice for Julia. You can call it penance, if you like, but maybe it’s just kindness. And it’s doubly kind, because you want to do it in secret and not embarrass her or make her feel like she owes you something. I’m impressed. Sort of.”

“I want her petals to open,”  Gabriel breathed softly.

Rachel dismissed his admission as incoherent mumbling, because she couldn’t believe that he’d said what she in fact heard. It was too bizarre.

“Don’t you think you should treat Julia as an adult and tell her the gifts are from you? Let her make her own decision about whether she should accept them or not?

“She wouldn’t accept them if she knew they were from me. She hates me.”

Rachel laughed. “Julia is not the type of girl to hate people. She’s far too forgiving for that. Although if she hates you, you probably deserve it.

But you’re right — she doesn’t accept charity. She would never let me buy things for her except on very special occasions.”

“Then tell her it’s for a backlog of Christmas presents from you. Or tell her it’s from Grace.” A meaningful look passed between the siblings.

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “Mom was the only person Julia would accept charity from, because she thought of Mom as her mother.”

Gabriel was at her side in an instant and wrapped her in his arms, trying to comfort her as best he could.

In his heart, he knew exactly what he was doing by persuading his sister to buy some pretty, girlish things for Miss Mitchell. He was paving hell with energy — buying an indulgence, forgiveness for sin. He’d never reacted this way to a woman before. But no, Gabriel wouldn’t indulge himself with that line of thought. That would serve no purpose, no purpose at all.