Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy

by Sylvain Reynard

  “The Perrier, of course. But I don’t see what this has to do with her.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you?”

  He moved, bringing his chest to hers, kneeling in between her legs so he could press their hips together. “You don’t see the comparison between you and her? This is my water.” He pressed himself against her again. “You are my water. Making love with you is all I need to quench my thirst. Why would I throw this away for water from the ocean?”

  He moved against her as a reminder. “She has nothing to offer me.”

  He lowered his face so their noses were inches apart. “And you are beautiful. Every part of you is a masterpiece, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. You’re Botticelli’s Venus and Beatrice. Do you have any idea how much I adore you? You captured my heart when I first saw you, when you were seventeen.”

  Her body began to relax incrementally under his touch and his quiet words. “How was it left with her?”

  “I told her that I didn’t appreciate her dropping in on me and that she was never to do it again. She took it as well as could be expected.”

  Gabriel was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. “Come in!”

  He rolled onto his side just as Rachel walked in.

  “Dinner is on the table, and Tom and Scott are here. Are you two coming downstairs?” She looked from her best friend to her brother and back again. “Do I need to send Scott up here?”

  Julia shook her head. “Did he bring his girlfriend?”

  “No, she’s spending Christmas with her parents. I asked him to invite her but he gave me a big song and dance.” Rachel looked annoyed. “Do you think he’s embarrassed by us?”

  “More likely he’s embarrassed by her,” said Gabriel. “She’s probably a stripper.”

  “Professors in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” Rachel glared at her brother and stormed out.

  Julia looked puzzled. “What was that about?”

  His expression tightened. “My dear sister is less than impressed with Paulina—and me.”

  Chapter 9

  Jt was a different Christmas Eve than any of them had ever experienced. Grace’s absence was felt most keenly by her husband and children, Aaron wished that he was already married, and Rachel wished that her chicken Kiev was even half as good as her mother’s, frozen butter or not.

  After dinner, Gabriel, Tom, and Richard retreated to the back porch to smoke cigars and drink Scotch while the rest of the family enjoyed coffee in the kitchen.

  “How was Italy?” Aaron asked Julia as the two of them refilled their mugs from the coffee maker.

  “It was great. The weather was good, and we had a wonderful time. How are the wedding plans?”

  “They’re coming along. When Rachel tried to rent one hundred doves to be released after the ceremony, I put my foot down. I think some of my gun-toting relatives might be tempted to shoot the damn things.” He winked.

  “How are your parents?”

  “They’re good. Rachel has been including my mom in the wedding planning, so she’s pretty excited. How are things with you and Gabriel?”

  Julia hid her face as she opened the fridge to look for the cream. “Good.”

  “Except for his ex showing up.”

  She glanced over at him, and he gave her a sympathetic look.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Aaron toyed with a teaspoon. “Gabriel is different when you’re around.” He placed the spoon on the counter and rubbed his chin. “He seems happy.”

  “He makes me happy too.”

  “A happy Gabriel is about as rare as a hobbit. We’re all glad to see it. As far as the ex is concerned, well, I doubt they were serious. Not like the way he is with you.”

  “Thanks, Aaron.”

  The two friends exchanged a quick hug.

  Later that evening, Julia and Gabriel retired to their room at a bed and breakfast. She was washing her face in the bathroom when she heard the strains of “Lying in the Hands of God” wafting from the bedroom.

  Gabriel came to stand behind her, wearing nothing but a pair of navy-blue silk boxer shorts and a smile.

  “It isn’t Barry White, but it’s ours.” He watched her for a moment or two, his expression becoming heated. He nuzzled her neck, pushing her hair aside as he fluttered his lips against her skin.

  “I want you,” he whispered. “Now.”

  He slid his hands underneath her T-shirt, exposing the flesh of her abdomen above the band of her yoga pants.

  “Why don’t you change into one of those pretty things you bought in Toronto? Or maybe the blue basque. You know it’s my favorite.” His voice was low as his mouth moved seductively to her shoulder.

  “I can’t.”

  He smirked. “Not here, love. I’m not sure you’re ready to watch us in a mirror. Although I wouldn’t mind.”

  When he began to remove her T-shirt, she pulled away. “Not tonight.”

  He dropped his arms to his sides, watching her.

  She avoided his eyes as she went back to washing her face.

  Gabriel frowned and walked away, silencing the stereo in a huff. Apart from their interlude in the Uffizi, she’d never turned him down. Of course, they’d only been together a little over two weeks. But still…

  Professor Emerson was not used to being rejected by a lover. He was sure she had her reasons—or at least one reason beginning with P and ending with A. He flopped onto the bed, bringing his arm to rest across his face. Understandably, Julianne was still upset about Paulina’s reappearance. Sex would be the last thing on her mind. Not to mention the fact that something troublesome had happened to her at Kinfolks restaurant that afternoon.

  Being turned down made him crave her all the more. The scent of her hair, the feel of her satin skin under his fingertips, the way she closed her eyes tightly just before she came, the sensation of her moving underneath him, with him…

  He needed to make love to her to know that it was all right—that they were all right.

  Yes, sex was his apple a day, and he needed it. He needed to show her not with words but with actions that he loved her, worshipped her, would do anything for her. He needed to know that she still wanted him, to hear her whisper his name.

  But she didn’t seem to need him. Certainly, she didn’t want him. Not tonight.

  Gabriel’s depressed musings continued until she joined him in bed. She rested on her side, watching him, but he didn’t acknowledge her. He simply turned off the lamp on the bedside table.

  In the darkness, they were both silent as a cold and invisible barrier sat between them.

  “Gabriel?”

  “Yes?”

  “I need to explain something to you.”

  He exhaled slowly, expelling all the air from his lungs. “I understand, Julianne. Good night.” He tried to keep the strain out of his voice but failed, miserably. He rolled away from her.

  Julia winced. Now the invisible barrier seemed more like a high, impenetrable wall.

  Men have such fragile, eggshell egos.

  She wanted to explain things to him and bring everything out into the open, but if he was going to be so easily offended, then she would wait until morning. Or later. Julia rolled over and shut her eyes, determined to forget the whole miserable day. She tried to suppress her sniffles, hoping that she could hold the hormonal tears back. The last thing she wanted was for him to catch her crying.

  Boys are dumb.

  She sniffled for a few minutes, then Gabriel was spooning behind her, pressing his naked chest to her back.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  She nodded, still sniffling.

  “Please don’t cry.”

  “I’m not crying.”

  “I didn’t mean to be an ass.” He propped himself up on his elbow. “Look at me.”

  He gave her a repentant smile. “I’ve been spoiled with all the times we’ve made love over the past two weeks. But I know that there will
be days when you’re tired or you don’t feel like it. I promise not to sulk—too much.”

  She smiled wryly and reached up to kiss his pouty lower lip.

  He wiped her eyes. “Will you tell me why you were crying this afternoon at the restaurant?”

  Julia shook her head.

  “Please?”

  “I’m too tired.”

  He nuzzled her until her body relaxed in his arms. “What can I do?”

  “I don’t need anything.”

  “A hot bath? A massage?” The look on his face was one of a little boy, eager to please. “Let me touch you. I’ll make you feel better.”

  “Gabriel, I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  “I wanted to do something for you.”

  “Just hug me.”

  “I’d gladly do that anyway.” He kissed her once more before spooning behind her.

  “Merry Christmas, Gabriel.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  * * *

  A few hours earlier, a lone woman stepped into a taxi outside the Comfort Inn. She was crying.

  The cabbie politely ignored her tears and turned the radio up, hoping to give her some privacy on their long drive to Harrisburg. The song that was playing was catchy, so catchy in fact that they both found themselves humming.

  As she hummed she thought of the parcel she’d given to the hotel’s night manager, Will. She’d given him five crisp twenty-dollar bills in exchange for his promise to deliver said package to a particular address in Selinsgrove by nine o’clock the following morning. Christmas morning.

  When he’d revealed (in typical small-town fashion) that he was acquainted with that address, having been a high school classmate of Gabriel’s brother, Scott, the woman casually pressed him for information about Gabriel’s new girlfriend.

  Will responded enthusiastically, since his family had known Tom Mitchell and his daughter for years. In fact, Will reported, Tom had recently bragged that Julia was excelling in her graduate studies at the University of Toronto.

  As soon as the woman learned this surprising fact, she decided to check out of the hotel and leave Selinsgrove. As she watched the snow-tipped trees pass by the cab’s windows, she wondered how she could discover if Julianne was a student of Gabriel’s when they began their affair.

  Chapter 10

  Very early Christmas morning, Gabriel sat in his boxer shorts and glasses, debating whether or not to wake Julianne. He could have returned to the light of the living room of their suite, where he’d played Santa Claus only an hour before. But he preferred to be near her, even in the dark.

  Richard’s conversation with him from the day before plagued his mind. His adoptive father had asked about Paulina, and he’d said about as much on the topic as he dared, emphasizing that Paulina was his past and Julia his future. Richard, who was a compassionate man, encouraged his son to make professional counseling a necessary condition for Paulina’s continued access to her trust fund, pointing out that she clearly needed help.

  Once Gabriel agreed, Richard smoothly changed the subject to Julia, asking if he was in love with her. Gabriel replied unequivocally in the affirmative, to which Richard responded by bring up the R-word, responsibility.

  “I am taking responsibility for her.”

  “She’s still a student. What if she gets pregnant?”

  Gabriel’s expression hardened. “That won’t happen.”

  Richard smiled. “I thought that once. Then we had Scott.”

  “I’ve already demonstrated that I more than take care of my responsibilities.” Gabriel’s voice was glacial.

  His adoptive father sat back in his chair, tenting his fingers reflectively.

  “Julia is like Grace in several ways—not least of which is her willingness to sacrifice herself for those she loves.”

  “I won’t allow her to sacrifice her dreams for me, you can be assured of that.”

  Richard’s eyes flickered over to the picture of his wife that he always kept on his desk, a laughing, smiling woman with kind eyes.

  “How did Julia react to Paulina’s visit?”

  “I haven’t discussed it with her.”

  “If you abandon Julia, you will have a serious problem with your siblings, as well as with me.”

  Gabriel’s eyebrows knit together like thunderous clouds. “I would never abandon her. And I won’t live without her.”

  “Then why don’t you tell her that?”

  “Because we’ve only been together for two weeks.”

  Richard raised his eyebrows in surprise, but elected not to interrogate his son over the semantic ambiguity of the phrase “being together.”

  “You know my views on this. You should marry her. At the moment, you appear to be with her under false pretenses; your actions indicate that she is only a partner in a sexual affair, when your intentions are serious.”

  Gabriel bristled at the characterization. “Julianne is not my mistress.”

  “You won’t make a commitment to her.”

  “I am committed to her. There’s no one else.”

  “But Paulina appears, looking for you and making a spectacle in front of Julia and your family.”

  “I can’t help that,” Gabriel snapped.

  “Can’t you?” Richard pursed his lips together. “It’s difficult for me to believe that a woman as intelligent as Paulina would simply arrive without any hope that her overtures would be accepted.”

  Gabriel scowled, but didn’t bother to argue.

  “Why won’t you make some promises to Julia? I’m sure she’s anxious about what the future might hold. Marriage is a sacrament that exists partially to protect women from sexual exploitation. If you take that protection away from her, then she is little more than your mistress, no matter what you choose to call her. And she has seen what happened—what is happening—to Paulina.”

  “That isn’t going to happen to Julianne.”

  “How does she know that?” Richard tapped his fingers on the top of his desk. “Marriage is more than a piece of paper. It’s a mystery. In fact, there’s a Midrash that suggests that marriage is made in heaven between soul mates. Don’t you want to be with Julia forever?”

  “What I want is immaterial. I won’t rush her into making a life-changing decision in the middle of the academic year,” Gabriel muttered, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s too soon.”

  “Pray that you don’t wait until it’s too late,” Richard countered, gazing sadly at Grace’s photograph.

  With these words, then, ringing in his ears, Gabriel sat watching his soul mate sleep on Christmas morning.

  As if she could hear his thoughts, she stirred, a nameless anxiety wafting over her. A moment later she rolled toward him, her fingers making contact with the silk at his hip.

  In the darkness of the room, Gabriel looked like a gargoyle—a gray, motionless figure that stared back at her from behind his glasses in stony silence. It took a moment for Julia to recognize him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

  Her face creased in puzzlement. “But you’re sitting half-naked in the dark.”

  He gave her a tentative smile. “I’m waiting for you to wake up.”

  “Why?”

  “So we can open presents. But it’s early. Go back to sleep.”

  She slid closer to him, searching for and finding his hand. She kissed the back of it and pulled it toward her heart.

  He smiled and pressed his palm flat against her chest so he could feel her heart beat. His face grew serious.

  “Forgive me for last night.” He cleared his throat roughly. “I don’t want you to think that sex is all I want. It isn’t.”

  Her smile faded. “I know that.”

  He moved his hand to stroke her eyebrows with his fingers. “I desire you, obviously. It’s difficult for me not to touch you, not to want to be with you that way.”

  His hand floated across her cheek, hesitantly. “But I love you, and
I want you to be with me because you want to be. Not because you feel obligated.”

  She leaned into his hand. “I don’t feel obligated. There were so many times when you could have pressured me, like the night we were in your old room and I—I took my top off. But you were patient. And when it was our first time, you were wonderful. I’ve been lucky to have you as my lover.”

  She gave him a sleepy smile. “Why don’t you come over here? I think we could both use some rest.”

  Gabriel slid under the covers and cuddled close to his beloved. When her regular breathing indicated that she’d fallen asleep, he whispered a few promises to her in Italian.

  When Julia awoke she was treated to breakfast in bed. Then she was nagged impatiently until she agreed to accompany Gabriel to the sitting room. He was so excited he was practically bouncing.

  (In a very dignified and professorial way, of course, despite his lack of shirt.)

  A small, Charlie Brown Christmas tree had been conveniently “borrowed” from the bed and breakfast’s parlor and was placed in the center of the room. Several brightly colored parcels rested beneath it. Two large, red stockings embroidered with the names “Julianne” and “Gabriel” were each sitting in a corner of the loveseat.

  “Merry Christmas.” He kissed her forehead, feeling very proud of himself.

  “I’ve never had a stocking.”

  He led her to the loveseat and placed the stocking in her lap. It was filled with candy and panties that had Yuletide images on them. And in the toe was a flash drive that contained video of a certain tango against the wall at the Royal Ontario Museum.

  “Why haven’t you had a stocking before?”

  “Sharon didn’t always remember Christmas and my dad didn’t think of it.” She shrugged.

  He shook his head. He hadn’t had stockings either, before he came to live with the Clarks.

  Julia pointed to a couple of presents that were wrapped in red and green plaid and sitting on the coffee table. “Why don’t you open your gifts first?”

  Gabriel beamed and sat on the floor by the tree, cross-legged. He picked up a small box and tore at the paper with abandon.