Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy

by Sylvain Reynard

  “I can’t. I can’t forget what you said in your lecture this afternoon. Your description of the act of making love was really beautiful, but that’s not what you want. Or maybe you think it’s impossible for lovers to be like that.”

  Gabriel’s eyes bored into hers. “Of course it’s what I want. Of course I think it’s possible. I’ve just never experienced it.” He cleared his throat. “You aren’t the only virgin in this relationship.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Then why would you want someone to hurt you? Haven’t you been hurt enough?”

  His face wore a pained expression.

  “Gabriel, your life is like a series of locked, secret rooms. I have no idea what lurks behind those doors. And you won’t tell me. I have to find out about your ex-girlfriend from your research assistant!”

  “She was never my girlfriend. And I asked you about Simon, and you wouldn’t tell me anything. So far we are even.”

  Julia winced.

  “I told you about my mother.”

  Gabriel sighed. “Yes, you did. And hearing what happened to you in St. Louis hurt me far more than I can say. More than Ann and her parlor tricks.” He shook his head. “You’re right. I should have told you about her.”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and Julia heard his fists slide into the pockets of his trousers. “I thought that when I told you, you’d be so repulsed that you’d run. You’d realize I truly am a devil.”

  “You’re no devil. You’re a fallen angel who still has goodness left in him. A fallen angel who aspires to make love with a woman and treat her with tenderness,” whispered Julia. She closed her eyes. “Hearing about Professor Singer from you would have been far better than finding out like this. Or having it flaunted in front of me when you wouldn’t even look in my direction.”

  “I wear tremendous shame, Julianne, which is something you know precious little about.”

  “You aren’t the only sinner in this closet, Gabriel.” She opened her eyes and inhaled slowly. “Which is why I can’t hold your past sins against you. Do you still want her?”

  “Of course not!” His demeanor immediately shifted to outrage. “We did not have a relationship, Julianne—we had a couple of encounters. It was over a year ago, and I haven’t been involved with her since.” He sighed deeply. “If you insist, I’ll tell you more, but I can’t do it now. Can you give me until after dinner to explain? Please?”

  She chewed her lip pensively.

  Gabriel gently pressed his mouth to hers, tugging her lip free with his own and slowly releasing her. “Please don’t hurt yourself. It upsets me.”

  “I could say the same to you.”

  His shoulders slumped forward, and he groaned a little.

  “I will give you until after dinner only if you promise not to let her touch you.”

  “Gladly.”

  Julia exhaled deeply. “Thank you.”

  “So you’ll stay?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t sit across the table from her and eat paella. She makes me sick.”

  “I’ll take you home.”

  “You’re the guest of honor. You can’t leave.”

  Gabriel ran his fingers through his hair as he thought for a moment. “At least let me call a taxi for you. I’ll try to extricate myself as soon as possible. My concierge will let you in.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a money clip.

  She waved his hand aside. “I have my own money.”

  “Let me give you my credit card so you can order dinner and have it delivered.”

  “I can’t eat.”

  He sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

  She turned to leave, but Gabriel reached out and grasped her elbow.

  “Wait.” He stared down at her, his voice pleading. “When I saw you walk into the lecture hall, my heart leaped. My heart leaped, Julianne. You’ve never looked more beautiful. You looked…happy.” He swallowed noisily. “I’m sorry I killed that look. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. Do you think…you might be able to forgive me?”

  “You didn’t sin against me, Gabriel.” Her eyes slowly began to fill with tears. “I’m trying to figure out how deeply rooted your taste for pain is and what that means for us. I feel like I have no idea who you really are, and that hurts.”

  With that, she exited the closet.

  ***

  The Fates favored Julia on her return to the dinner party. While she fetched her things and made her excuses, Ann was still ensconced in the ladies’ room. A second female professor was missing from the table.

  One look at Julia’s pale face and teary eyes convinced Paul not to try to persuade her to stay. And when she offered an obviously fictitious explanation about having a migraine, he didn’t question her until they were standing outside the restaurant.

  “Singer followed you to the bathroom, didn’t she?”

  Julia chewed on her lip and nodded.

  He shook his head. “She’s a predator. A dangerous predator. I should have warned you. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. But I have to go home. I’m sorry about the paella.”

  “Fuck the paella. All I care about is you.” He winced slightly. “If you want to file a complaint against her, I’ll take you to the judicial committee’s office on Monday.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s the office that handles allegations of misconduct against faculty and staff. If you want to tell the judicial committee what happened with Singer, I’ll help you.”

  Julia shook her head. “There weren’t any witnesses. It would be my word against hers. I’m going to try to forget what happened, unless she approaches me again.”

  “It’s your decision, but you should know that I filed a complaint against her last year. Even though it was her word against mine, my harassment complaint is still in her file. She stays away from me now. It was the best decision I ever made.”

  Her smiled faded. “I don’t think I want to do that, but I’ll consider it. And I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Have a nice weekend and try to forget about this. If you need to talk, you’ve got my number. I’ll see you next week.” Paul offered an encouraging look and waved as the taxi pulled away.

  While Virgil’s words rang in Julia’s ears, she checked her cell phone. She found a text message that had been sent shortly before the professors arrived at Segovia:

  Stay away from Prof. Singer.

  Stay close to Paul—she despises him.

  Be careful. —G

  Too little, too late, Julia thought ruefully.

  When she entered Gabriel’s apartment she quickly turned on the fireplace, hoping to dispel the darkness that she felt creeping around her heart. But it didn’t seem to help. Truly, all she wanted to do was go home and pull the bed covers over her head. But she knew better than to hide from reality now.

  She didn’t want to snoop, but she found herself in Gabriel’s bedroom, kneeling on the floor of his closet. She was searching for his black-and-white photographs, wondering if Professor Singer was in one of them. She certainly had the correct hair color. But the pictures were gone. She examined every inch of his closet and looked around his bedroom and even under his bed. The photos had been removed.

  Hanging on the wall in their stead were six pieces of art, some abstract, some renaissance, one by Tom Thomson, but all beautiful and strangely…peaceful. Gabriel had redecorated.

  She stood in front of his dresser admiring the reproduction of Botticelli’s Primavera that was displayed over it when her gaze alighted on an eight by ten picture in a dark frame. It was of a man and a woman dancing. The man was tall, attractive, elegant, and commanding, and he was looking down at the woman with an intense, almost heated gaze.

  The woman was petite, blushing and staring at the buttons of his shirt. She was wearing a purple dress that was so vibrant it seemed to diminish all the other colors in the picture.

  How did he get a photo of
the two of us dancing at Lobby?

  Rachel, she thought.

  Julia quickly placed the picture back and exited the bedroom, being sure to leave everything exactly as she found it.

  Chapter 21

  While Julia waited at his apartment, Gabriel played the chameleon, blending into his environment. He was charming and gracious to his colleagues, but all the while, his insides churned and his mind raced. He had to force himself to eat and to decline libation upon libation. Gabriel was convinced that he would be returning to an empty apartment. Julianne was going to run.

  It wasn’t surprising—he knew it would happen eventually. He just hadn’t thought it would be this secret that would separate them. He was unworthy of her for many reasons, reasons he’d hid like a coward. It wasn’t a question of love, for Gabriel did not believe that she could ever love him. He was unlovable. Nonetheless, he’d hoped to be able to court her long enough for their affection and friendship to bind them together, even in the face of some of his darkness. Now it was too late.

  When he finally arrived home, he was surprised to find her asleep on the sofa, her face a picture of perfect peace. He tried valiantly to be still, to resist the urge to touch, but he couldn’t. He reached out and softly stroked her long, silken hair, murmuring sad Italian words.

  He needed music. At that moment, he felt the need for melody and lyric to soothe his agony. But the only song he could think of that would match this moment was Gary Jules’ cover of Mad World. And Gabriel didn’t want to be listening to that song when Julianne left him.

  Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open. She saw that Gabriel was no longer wearing his suit jacket and tie and had released the top three buttons of his shirt. He’d also removed his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves.

  He smiled but his expression was cautious. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “It’s fine. I just dozed off.” She yawned and sat up slowly.

  “You can go back to sleep.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Did you eat something?”

  She shook her head.

  “Will you eat something now? I could make you an omelet.”

  “My stomach is in knots.”

  He was irritated but refused to argue, for he knew a much bigger argument was on the horizon. “I have a present for you.”

  “Gabriel, a present is the last thing I need right now.”

  “I disagree. But it can wait.” He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, never taking his eyes off of her. “You’re wearing a scarf and sitting by a roaring fire, yet you’re so pale. Are you cold?”

  “No.” Julia reached up to remove her pashmina, but Gabriel’s long, slender fingers caught her hand.

  “May I?”

  She withdrew her hand and nodded warily.

  Gabriel moved closer, and Julia shut her eyes as his scent washed over her. He gently unwound the scarf from her neck with both hands and placed it on the sofa between them. Then he reached out to trail the knuckles of one hand down the column of her throat.

  “You are so lovely,” he murmured. “No wonder all eyes were on you this evening.”

  She tensed at his words, and he pulled back, stifling a groan.

  Her eyes found her feet, and she realized that she’d been so distracted she hadn’t bothered to remove her boots. But he hadn’t complained.

  “I’m sorry for putting my boots on your couch. I’ll take them off.” She fingered one of the zippers, but Gabriel moved quickly to kneel on the carpet.

  “What are you doing?” Her eyes widened in confusion.

  “I’ve been admiring your boots. Very much.” He lightly grazed her high heels with his hands.

  “Rachel helped me choose them. She has great taste, but the heels are always too high.”

  He regarded her seductively. “Your heels could never be too high. But let me free you.” At the sound of his voice, husky and adoring, Julia’s heart skipped a beat.

  His hands hovered over her knees, where the tops of the zippers rested. “May I?”

  She acquiesced and held her breath.

  Reverently, he unzipped her boot and gently ran his fingers down her calf to her ankle, freeing her. He repeated this procedure on the other leg, placing the boots next to the sofa. Then he lifted her right foot and began to massage it lightly with both hands. Julia moaned in spite of herself and bit her lip sharply in embarrassment.

  “It’s all right to voice your pleasure, Julianne,” he encouraged. “It reassures me that I don’t repulse you completely.”

  “You don’t repulse me. But I don’t like seeing you on your knees,” she whispered.

  His pleased expression faded. “When a man kneels before a woman, it’s a gesture of chivalry. When a woman kneels before a man, it’s unseemly.”

  Julia moaned once again involuntarily. “How did you learn to do this?”

  He gave her a puzzled look.

  “How did you learn to massage feet?” she clarified, flushing more deeply.

  He sighed. “A friend.”

  Probably a black-and-white photograph friend, thought Julia.

  “Yes,” said Gabriel, as if he’d anticipated her question. “I would like to extend my attention to the rest of your body, but I don’t think a full massage would be possible for us, at least not now.” His eyes darkened slightly as their eyes met.

  He switched his attention to her other foot and lowered his eyes. “I already hunger for your body, Julianne. I’m not strong enough to touch you chastely, not if you were laid out before me wrapped only in a bed sheet.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments while Gabriel tended to Julia’s feet. At length, he sat back on his heels, running light fingertips up and down her stockings.

  “I’ll drive you home, if you wish, and we can talk tomorrow. Or you can stay here. You could sleep in my room, and I’ll take the guestroom.” He searched her eyes uncertainly.

  “I don’t want to prolong this,” she offered. “So I’d like to talk, if that’s all right.”

  “That’s fine. Can I offer you something to drink?” Gabriel motioned toward the kitchen. “I can open a bottle of wine. Or fix you a cocktail.” He gazed at her intensely. “Please let me do something for you.”

  A flame ignited in Julia’s middle, flaring up and passing over her. But she suppressed it. “Water, please. I need a clear head.”

  He stood up and walked to the kitchen. Julia heard him wash his hands followed by the sounds of the refrigerator and freezer doors opening and closing. He returned to her with a tall glass filled with Perrier, ice, and pieces of lime.

  “Um, Gabriel, would you excuse me for a minute?”

  “Take as long as you need. Come to the fire when you’re ready.” He attempted a smile, but his face was too tense to make it genuine.

  She disappeared with her drink, and Gabriel assumed she was using this opportunity to steel herself for the next revelation from his miserable, damned existence. Or maybe she was going to lock herself in the bathroom and demand to speak to him through the door. Not that he would blame her.

  Julia’s mind was traveling at light speed. She didn’t know what Gabriel was going to say. She didn’t know how she would respond. It was quite possible that she would learn things that would make it impossible for their relationship to continue, and the thought crushed her. For no matter what he’d done or with whom, she loved him. The thought of losing him again, after the joy of reconnecting, was agonizing.

  Gabriel sat in his red velvet chair staring vacantly into the fireplace. Dressed as he was and brooding, he looked very much like a character out of one of the Brontës’ novels. As Julia approached him, she silently prayed to Charlotte that Gabriel would be one of her ilk and not of her sister Emily’s.

  Pardon me, Miss Charlotte, but Heathcliff terrifies me. Please don’t let Gabriel be a Heathcliff. (No offense to you, Miss Emily.) Please.

  From where Julia stood, he could not see her. She cleared her t
hroat to alert him of her presence.

  He gestured to the fire. “Come warm yourself.”

  She made as if to sit on the carpet in front of the fire, but his hand shot out to stop her. He forced a smile.

  “Please. Sit on my lap. Or the ottoman or the sofa.”

  He still doesn’t like me on the floor, Julia thought. She hadn’t objected to the idea of sitting at the hearth. But the mere idea more than offended him. Not willing to argue over such a trivial thing, she eschewed his lap for the ottoman and sat quietly, gazing at the blue and orange flames. He was no longer The Professor in her mind; he was Gabriel, her professor, her beloved.

  Gabriel shifted in his chair, wondering why she wanted to be so far away from him. Because she knows what you are now and she’s afraid.

  “Why don’t you like me on my knees?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  “Perhaps in light of tonight’s conversation, you can divine the reason. A reason multiplied and strengthened by what you told me at your apartment.” He paused and looked at her pointedly. “You’re far too humble as it is, and people take advantage of your sweet nature.”

  “Graduate students have to pay their dues. Everyone knows that.”

  “Being a student has nothing to do with it.”

  “You will always be the gifted professor, and I will always be your student,” she remarked quietly.

  “You forget that I met you long before you were a student and I was a professor. And you won’t be a student forever. I shall sit in the front row when you deliver your first lecture. As for your prejudice against professors, if you prick us, do we not bleed?”

  “And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?” Julia countered.

  Gabriel sat back in his chair and indulged himself in an appreciative smile. “See? Who is the teacher now, Professor Mitchell? I only claim the advantages of age and experience.”

  “Age doesn’t necessarily make you wiser.”

  “Of course not. You’re young, but you’re industrious and bright and at the very beginning of what promises to be a long and brilliant career. Perhaps I haven’t done enough to show my admiration for your mind.”