Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno 1)

He retreated slightly, for Gabriel’s snarl was very fierce.

“Come,” he commanded, pulling her away from the dance floor and back to their seats.

Julia gave Brad an apologetic glance over her shoulder and left willingly.

Gabriel handed her a drink as he tried to catch his breath. He was surprised at himself and his eagerness to come to Julia’s rescue before he’d even considered the repercussions.

While she sipped her Cosmopolitan and tried to process what had just happened, Gabriel turned to her, clutching his now half-empty glass.

“You need to be more careful. These places can be very dangerous for girls like you, and you, my dear, are a calamity waiting to happen.”

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.

T he 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.