Gabriel's Promise (Gabriel's Inferno)

by Sylvain Reynard

  “Good girl.” Gabriel touched her cheek. “Snow is appalling and I approve of your disinterest.”

  Julia shook her head. “Think about Richard and Rebecca walking Beacon Hill in this weather.”

  Gabriel consulted his watch. “They’d be at the movies now. Does Rachel know Richard came up for the weekend?”

  “Yes. I spoke to her this morning and she said Richard told her last week.”

  Gabriel’s blue eyes grew peering. “And Rachel is fine with it?”

  “She said she and Richard worked things out and that she wouldn’t begrudge him a friend.” Julia grinned. “But she’s really happy Wonder Woman is coming to Selinsgrove to spend Christmas with everyone.”

  “Ah,” said Gabriel. “Katherine would be horrified if she knew Rachel was comparing her to a comic book character.”

  “I think Katherine would be flattered. She has a good sense of humor.”

  “Hmmm.” Gabriel glanced over Julia’s shoulder, out the window, and became momentarily distracted. A blue Toyota was driving by their house at a snail’s pace. It reached the end of the cul-de-sac, turned around, and drove by their house again.

  Gabriel surmised the driver was Jack Mitchell’s contact and watched as the car disappeared around the corner. He felt heartened knowing that someone else was keeping an eye on the house.

  “Hello? Gabriel?” Julia snapped her fingers, trying to get his attention.

  He forced a smile. “Sorry, darling. Entranced by the snow. What do you think of Clare’s new wardrobe?” Gabriel extended his arms toward the array of items that had been carefully displayed on every available piece of furniture or flat surface in the living room.

  “They’re all very nice. But a bit extravagant, don’t you think?”

  Gabriel looked offended. “She’s my daughter. I want her to have the best.”

  “But the best doesn’t have to be the most expensive. Target makes nice baby clothes.”

  Gabriel wrinkled his nose.

  Julia persisted. “I like nice things. You’ve bought me beautiful dresses and more shoes than I can wear.”

  “Shoes are works of art,” Gabriel interrupted. “Think of them as an art collection.”

  “Yes, Professor. But think about the privilege Clare has. And think about where we live and all the privilege that surrounds us. I want to teach her that character counts—that being kind and generous make one beautiful.”

  “She’s only three months old.”

  “Exactly. And has already received gifts from Tiffany, a valuable Renaissance manuscript from her godmother, and a designer wardrobe from Barneys.”

  “I can’t refuse the gifts that Kelly or Katherine give her.”

  “No, you can’t,” Julia admitted, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I know it’s the prerogative of aunts and godmothers and grandparents to spoil children. But we don’t have to spoil her.”

  “Of course I want to teach her what true beauty is, and I say this looking at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, both inside and out.”

  Julia flushed at his compliment.

  He took a step closer and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Why can’t I buy my little princess nice clothes? She will only be a baby a short while. Next thing we know she’ll be slamming doors, listening to appalling music, and ripping holes in her jeans.”

  “I hope not.” Julia kissed the side of his hand. “Barneys is too extravagant for children, and I don’t want her to grow up like some of the people I have to deal with at Harvard.”

  Gabriel thought of Cecilia. Then he thought of the snobbish scions of wealthy families he’d encountered during his undergraduate years at Princeton, and later, at Oxford and Harvard.

  He placed a hand on Clare’s head and she reached her arms out to him. He took her and instantly, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I don’t want that, either. And I say that knowing that I, myself, have an attachment to luxury.”

  “An attachment?” Julia teased.

  “You’re the kindest person I know.” Gabriel’s eyes were solemn. “You are everything that is loving and gentle. With you as a role model, she won’t be lacking in kindness, despite the faults of her father.”

  “Your faults are greatly exaggerated. From you she will learn bravery and strength and hard work. My kindness grew out of cruelty. I saw how my mother acted and determined to do the opposite.”

  “But that’s why I want to spoil you. I wanted to bring you home a new pair of shoes today, but I thought that would be insensitive, given the state of your ankle.” Gabriel pointed to a box. “So I bought you slippers, instead. Very warm. Very soft. And they should fit over your ankle brace.”

  “You bought me a present?”

  “Yes, and I picked it out myself. Without any help.” Gabriel preened.

  Julia crossed over to open the box. She retrieved a pair of cranberry-colored shearling slippers, with a skidproof leather sole. She sat down and tried them on.

  “They fit perfectly. Thank you.” Her dark eyes shone as she looked up at her husband. “But I meant what I said; we can’t spoil Clare. I don’t want her to think she has to look or dress a certain way in order to be valued.”

  Gabriel gazed over the baby clothes with a look of consternation. “You want me to take them back?”

  “No.” Julia stood in her new slippers and walked over to him. She hooked her hand around his neck and drew him down for a kiss. “I’m talking about your next outing.”

  “I sat on a couch and they brought everything to me,” he confessed, swaying with Clare against his shoulder. “Does Target do that?”

  “No.” She lifted her injured ankle. “As soon as I’m better, I’ll introduce you to the magic of Target. We can browse the aisles with a large red cart, sip a Starbucks coffee, and do everything ourselves.”

  “You and I have different understandings of the term magic,” said Gabriel imperiously. His expression grew concerned. “How is your other leg?”

  She averted her eyes. “Today the numbness was a little worse. But it’s fine.”

  “We can consult another doctor.”

  Julia sat in a chair next to the fire. “I’ve already seen two neurologists. Neither of them has a treatment other than time.”

  Gabriel didn’t look convinced.

  He changed the subject by lifting Clare’s foot. “You can hardly object to her footwear. The ballet slippers were essential.”

  Julia took a moment to admire the sight of Gabriel, bursting with pride about his little princess, and the baby herself, who was resting comfortably against his shoulder, sucking her fist. “Yes, I’ll concede that the ballet slippers were essential.”

  “By the way, the BBC producer I met in Edinburgh contacted me.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She asked me to come to London to be interviewed for a documentary about the Renaissance.”

  “Congratulations. When would you go?”

  “We would go,” Gabriel corrected. “They’re setting things up for March or April. We could schedule the interviews around your workshop at Oxford and take Rebecca with us, or give her holidays and just go ourselves.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “We could go to the British Museum and explore its dark corners.” Gabriel lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

  “And get arrested.” Julia laughed. “It will be spring then, which means we can take the stroller for Clare and walk around London.”

  “Good. I’ll email Eleanor and talk about dates. Now, what does Mommy want for dinner?”

  “Spring rolls?”

  “Not takeaway. The princess and I are going to cook and listen to opera.” Gabriel danced in a circle with the baby.

  “Pasta?” Julia suggested, getting to her feet.

  “An excellent suggestion. You can r
elax by the fire, darling. Leave the cooking to us.”

  “Oh no.” Julia grinned. “This I want to see.”

  She followed Gabriel and Clare into the kitchen as the strains of Pavarotti performing Puccini’s “Nessun dorma” emanated from the stereo system.

  * * *

  After attending Mass with his family the following morning, Gabriel closeted himself in his home office in order to make a phone call.

  “Cassirer.” The lightly accented voice answered Gabriel’s call.

  “Nicholas, it’s Gabriel Emerson calling from America. How are you?”

  “Gabriel, good to hear from you. I’m well, thank you.”

  “And your parents? How are they?”

  Nicholas paused. “They are managing. They spend most of their time abroad.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Gabriel’s voice was sympathetic.

  “How is your family?”

  “Julianne is well. Our daughter was born in September. We named her Clare.”

  “Congratulations. That’s excellent news. I’ll pass it on to my parents.”

  “Please do.” Gabriel cleared this throat. “I’m afraid my family is why I’m calling you.”

  Gabriel quickly explained the background of his interactions with Simon Talbot and his latest move to Zurich. “I need the name of someone trustworthy I can hire for surveillance.”

  “Surveillance?” Nicholas repeated casually—all too casually.

  “Just someone to keep tabs. I’m hoping he’ll lose interest in us with this recent move. But I want to be sure.”

  “Let me make a few calls.”

  “Thank you. Money isn’t a concern and I’d be happy to reimburse you for the introduction.”

  “That isn’t necessary. Do you need someone in America, as well?”

  “I’m covered, but thank you. If there’s anything I can do in return, please let me know.”

  “Not at all. This is for your family, with my compliments. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Thank you.” Gabriel disconnected the call and placed his phone on his desk.

  On paper, Nicholas Cassirer was a wealthy Swiss businessman who was an avid art collector and a generous philanthropist. Gabriel had no reason to suspect the man of having ties to the underworld, apart from his ubiquitous black suits.

  But Gabriel was not naïve. The Cassirers had sustained a robbery a number of years ago and the items had never been recovered. Nicholas had taken the theft very, very personally and his family had hired professional security that rivaled that of most heads of state.

  Gabriel felt his neck. There was a chance he’d just incurred a debt he would later be called on to pay. But given the potential danger to his family, he was more than willing to pay the price, no matter how steep.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  December 12, 2012

  Julia was awake.

  She’d rolled over to face Gabriel a few minutes ago and he’d stretched out an arm and covered her waist. He was sound asleep, judging by his breathing. Funny how he reached for her instinctually, as if their souls were so in tune with one another, he could sense her presence even while sleeping.

  She touched Gabriel’s face—the face of the man she loved. She traced his aristocratic cheekbones and the slight dimple of his chin. Her fingers caught on the stubble.

  She kissed his cheek and brushed her mouth across his. He murmured a response, but didn’t move.

  A wave of love and want washed over her. She wanted to drown in it.

  She caressed his chest and floated her hand over his original tattoo and the new piece that was still healing. It was an image from one of Botticelli’s illustrations of Paradiso; Dante swoons at the base of Jacob’s ladder and Beatrice embraces him.

  The tattoo artist who had marked Gabriel’s right pectoral with the image had been the same artist who gave him the dragon and heart. Woven into Botticelli’s image were the names Julianne and Clare, in an elegant minuscule script.

  Julia’s hand hovered over the image. It had been a surprise. Gabriel had been inked two days after his shopping spree with Clare.

  I need to have you immortalized on my skin. And under my skin. And over my heart, he’d whispered, when he bared the image to her eyes.

  She reached over and kissed his chest, just over his heart.

  Gabriel shifted, but didn’t awaken.

  His body was a feast for her senses. So she explored him, her fingers dancing over his strong pectorals, his shoulders, his muscled arms.

  She touched his ribs and dipped into his navel. Then she traced the ridges of his abdominal muscles. She reached the band of his underwear and stopped.

  A sharp inhalation drew her attention.

  Gabriel’s eyes were open, their stark blueness standing out against the dark hair that swept his brow.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Never apologize for touching me,” he rasped. “If my soul is yours, my body is also.”

  He adjusted the pillow behind his head so he could see her better.

  She sat back, carefully moving her ankle. “I need you.”

  “Then take what you need.” Gabriel’s eager, curious look was encouraging.

  Julia returned her hand to his body, caressing and touching him, before cupping him through his underwear. He made a strangled noise.

  She removed the underwear, tugging it determinedly down his legs before dropping it to the floor. Then she knelt next to him and placed his hand at the hem of her nightgown. Hastily, he tore off her nightgown and panties.

  Without words, she straddled his waist, adjusting her position so no weight was placed on her ankle. She brought his large hands to her breasts and leaned into his touch.

  Gabriel passed his thumbs over her nipples.

  She reacted by arching against him, curving her spine.

  He thumbed her nipples and replaced them with his mouth, fastening his lips over a rosy bud. He licked her.

  Julia reveled in his ministrations until her want could not be contained. She moved back and wrapped her hand around him.

  He gasped against her breast and she stroked up and down, her pace slow but sure.

  Gabriel was already aroused. She touched him to please him, as his lips found her other breast.

  Then she positioned him carefully and sank down, inch by inch.

  Gabriel bit out a curse at the feel of her around him.

  She rocked back and forth as his thumbs found her nipples again. And then she lifted herself up and brought herself down, experimenting with rhythm and depth of penetration.

  She pulled his hands to her hips, one at a time, encouraging him to help her set the pace. But Gabriel was only too eager to let her lead and to watch her, eyes half-closed in pleasure.

  Her palm found his chest, careful not to touch the tattoo that was healing. The face of Dante, leaning against Beatrice, gazed up at her. As if she were a promise ready to be fulfilled.

  She closed her eyes. The feelings were too intense. One more ascent and she was falling, falling. Gabriel lifted his hips, increasing the pace, chasing after her.

  He pulled her down as he thrust up and she felt him jerk inside her. She opened her eyes to see his gaze meet hers. His chest tensed beneath her palm.

  She relaxed atop him and his body slowly softened.

  A lazy smile passed over his face. “I’d like to be awakened like that every morning. Look at you—a beautiful, fierce goddess of love, who never takes except she gives tenfold more. Let me be your servant in love and desire.”

  “Gabriel.” She touched his face.

  “And you did all of that with an injured ankle.” He grinned wickedly.

  Before she could answer she was pinned beneath him and he was settling between her hips. He lifted her arms above her head.
>
  “Now it’s my turn, goddess. Let’s see what you can do without any hands.”

  She laughed until he took her mouth.

  “My Beatrice,” he whispered.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  December 21, 2012

  Julia was dreaming.

  In itself, this was not an unusual occurrence. She had dreamed vividly throughout her pregnancy but found her sleep deep and dreamless after she brought Clare home from the hospital.

  In the wee hours of the morning, while Clare slept soundly in the nursery, Julia dreamed she was back at St. Joseph’s University, walking down the hall to the room she shared with Natalie, a fellow undergraduate.

  It was Julia’s birthday. She was supposed to celebrate it with her boyfriend but forgot her camera. Walking down the hall, she felt happy and excited.

  In her dream, Julia knew what was about to happen. She knew what lay behind the closed door to her room. Still, she pulled out her keys and unlocked the door.

  Thud.

  The sound of the door hitting the wall was unusually loud. Julia stared at the door, wondering why it had made such an odd sound.

  Crash.

  Julia’s eyes snapped open.

  She was no longer in Philadelphia; she was in her bedroom in Cambridge. The night light plugged into the wall cast a gentle glow over the room.

  But something wasn’t right.

  Julia lifted her head and saw a man standing a few feet away, holding the reproduction of Henry Holiday’s painting in his gloved hands.

  He stared straight at Julia.

  The man was a behemoth—well over six feet, six inches and formed like a linebacker. His dark eyes were flat, emotionless.

  He took a step in her direction.

  Julia screamed.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Gabriel awoke immediately, confused. He’d fallen asleep at his desk in his study.

  He stumbled to his feet, not bothering to figure out why he wasn’t in bed with his wife. Tearing open the door, he saw a large, dark figure moving down the hall. Gabriel stood between him and the nursery, where Clare was sleeping in her crib.