“I don’t think Katherine would interfere in another department’s search process.”
“I would consider it a favor. I’ve already done you a favor.”
Julia’s eyes flew to his. “And what would that be?”
“I prevented my friend from sleeping with your husband.”
Julia felt the world grind to a halt.
“What?” Her question was far too loud, and so the other attendees turned to stare in their direction.
Julia’s cheeks flamed.
“I’m sure you wish to express your gratitude.” He leaned closer.
“Are you kidding?”
“Your husband was going to meet Christa at her hotel. I persuaded her to turn her attention elsewhere. Favor done.”
“How dare you,” Julia hissed. She leaned forward at the waist and Pacciani took a surprised step back. “How dare you come to this place of beauty and say these ugly things to me.”
Pacciani’s face clouded in confusion, as if he were witnessing the impossible transformation of a kitten into a lion. He lifted his hands in surrender.
“I mean no harm.”
“Oh, yes you do.” Her voice grew louder. “You and your friend, or whatever she is to you, mean nothing but harm. I don’t care what she told you or what her plans were. You didn’t prevent my husband from doing anything. Do you hear me?”
Pacciani scowled, as he became conscious of the fact that all eyes were on them. Julia’s exclamation could be clearly heard by the other guests.
Then his angry expression morphed into a condescending smile.
“All men require a little—how do you say? Recreation. It is too much to expect one woman to be enough.” He shrugged his shoulders as if he were reciting a commonly known fact.
“Women are not items on a buffet. And my husband doesn’t share your misogyny.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I won’t be telling Professor Picton anything, other than that you accosted me with lies. Now go away and leave me alone.”
When he made no movement to comply with her instructions, she pointed an angry finger toward the door.
“Get out.” Her steely voice filled the room.
(It was, perhaps, not the most polite strategy for removing a guest at a lavish event.)
Julia ignored the looks of incredulity and censure, glaring determinedly at Pacciani, whose face was a mask of fury.
He lunged toward Julia but was caught at the last moment by a woman who took hold of his arm with an iron grip.
“I’ve been looking for you.” Mrs. Pacciani scolded her husband, but not before giving Julianne a hostile glance.
Pacciani cursed in Italian, trying to shake off his wife.
“Let’s go.” Mrs. Pacciani tugged at her husband’s arm. “There are important people we need to speak to.”
With a threatening look, Pacciani turned and accompanied his wife to the hallway.
Julia watched their retreating backs with no little relief. And more than a little anger.
(Which effectively ruined her afterglow.)
“Darling?” Gabriel smiled as he entered the room, striding confidently in his tuxedo. As usual, all eyes were on him and his handsome form as he moved smoothly across the floor.
A few whispers were exchanged by some of the other couples as they watched Gabriel rejoin his wife.
His smile disappeared. “What’s wrong?”
Julia pursed her lips, trying to control her anger. “Professor Pacciani cornered me.”
“That bastard. Are you all right?” Gabriel placed a light hand on her shoulder.
“He offered an apology for Christa’s behavior in Oxford. I lost my temper and made a scene.”
“Really?” Gabriel squeezed her shoulder as he fought back a smirk. “Tell me more.”
Julia began to shake, the aftermath of a rush of adrenaline.
“I called him a misogynist and told him to go. And I pointed at him.” She lifted her index finger, staring at it in disbelief.
“Excellent.” Gabriel brought her index finger to his lips, where he kissed it.
She shook her head. “Not excellent. Embarrassing. Everyone heard me.”
“I doubt very much that anyone would blame you. The female guests probably despise him for his lechery, and the male guests probably despise him because he’s slept with their wives.”
“He wanted me to tell Katherine that he dealt with Christa. He’s after a job at Columbia and Katherine is a friend of the chair.”
“He’ll never get it,” Gabriel scoffed. “Katherine was Lucia Barini’s supervisor. She’s a friend of mine, as well. She’ll see through him.
“Perhaps Pacciani wants the job at Columbia in order to be with Christa.”
Julia appeared disgusted. “I wonder what his wife thinks about that.
“He also told me that he prevented you from having a tryst with her.”
“With whom?” Gabriel’s tone was sharp.
“Christa. He said you were going to meet her at her hotel, but that he distracted her. That’s why I lost my temper. I’m afraid the other guests heard everything.” She glanced around the room uncomfortably.
Gabriel cursed, shifting his gaze toward the door. Pacciani and his wife were nowhere to be seen.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” Gabriel linked their hands and piloted her to a quiet corner. He looked over her shoulder to be sure that no one was eavesdropping.
He brought their faces close together, dropping his voice. “Christa propositioned me right before your lecture. I should have said something at the time, but I didn’t want to upset you.”
Julia gazed at him reproachfully. “And afterward?”
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Which is why you didn’t tell me about your secret conversation with Paul.”
A muscle jumped in Gabriel’s jaw, and he nodded.
Julia released his hand. “You should have told me.”
“Forgive me.”
“I’m not fragile. I can handle disturbing news.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
Julia rolled her eyes heavenward, taking a moment to examine the gallery’s ceiling. “Gabriel, until we enter the next life, things will disturb us. It’s part of the human condition. When you keep things from me, it puts a wedge between us.” She gave him a look, heavy with meaning.
When he didn’t respond, she gestured to the room. “Others can exploit that wedge.”
He nodded, his expression tight.
“I think I deserve to know who is making a play for my husband. And when.” She arched an expectant eyebrow.
“Agreed.”
She watched him for a minute, taking in the expression in his eyes and the tightness around his lips. He looked very unhappy. But he also looked protective, and that was not a posture she wanted to disappear.
“You are going to tell me things, aren’t you?” Her voice grew soft.
“Yes.” He was being truthful, but they both knew he was holding on to his secrets. At least for the present.
“So,” she said brightly. “You’re forgiven. But since my good mood from my first foray into museum sex has been ruined, you’re going to have to fix that.”
Gabriel bowed, not taking his eyes off hers. “I am yours to command.”
“Good.” She leaned forward, grabbing his silk bow tie. “Because my command is pleasure. And I think I’d like it now.”
He pushed her hair behind her shoulders and brought his lips to her ear.
“Then come.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
August 2011
Cambridge, Massachusetts
When Julia and Gabriel returned home the last week in August, they arrived to find a plethora of unopened mail. Gabriel gazed at the envelopes tha
t Rebecca had stacked neatly on his desk and decided he’d forgo opening them in order to unpack instead.
While he was in the bedroom, Julia remained in the study. She glanced at the open door apprehensively before quietly moving to close it.
She knew that what she was going to do would be a violation of Gabriel’s trust. But, she reasoned, her actions were justified by his silence and his continued reticence to disclose what was troubling him. She’d hoped he would talk to her while they were in Florence. But he hadn’t.
Simply put, she was afraid and she was having difficulty coping with the fear.
There was a drawer in his desk that he never opened. She was vaguely aware of it, although she’d never had the nerve to look through its contents.
Gabriel had caught her opening it one day while she was in search of some printer paper, and he’d closed it under her hand, saying there were memories in that space that he did not wish to relive. Then he’d distracted her by pulling her onto his lap on the red velvet chair and making love to her.
Julia hadn’t touched the drawer since. But today, frustrated and concerned, she sat behind his desk, examining its contents. If Gabriel would not give her answers, perhaps his collection of memories would.
The Botticelli illustrations, which he’d kept in a locked wooden box in that same drawer, were no longer there, displayed as they were now in the Uffizi. Julia quickly and quietly retrieved the first item, holding it in her hand.
It was his grandfather’s pocket watch. He’d worn it on occasion, back in Toronto, but since they’d moved to Cambridge it had remained in the drawer. The watch was made of gold and attached to a long chain that had a fish-shaped fob on it. She opened it carefully and read the inscription:
To William,
My beloved husband
Love, Jean
She closed the watch, placing it on top of the desk.
The next item she retrieved was an old cast-iron train engine that had clearly seen better days. She imagined Gabriel as a little boy, clutching his train, perhaps demanding that he take it with him when he and his mother left New York.
Her insides twisted.
She placed the train on the desk and returned her attention to the drawer.
There was a wooden box, which she opened. In it, she found a string of large South Sea pearls and a ring with diamonds set into the band. Julia picked up the ring to look for an inscription, but there wasn’t one. She saw two silver bracelets and a necklace, all of which were marked from Tiffany.
The jewelry had to have been his mother’s. But she wondered about its source. Gabriel had told her several times of the poverty they’d lived in. How could someone who was so poor have such expensive jewelry? And why didn’t his mother sell the jewelry when money grew short?
Julia shook her head. Gabriel’s childhood was tragic, to be sure, but so was his mother’s life.
She closed the box and turned her attention to the photographs, which had been sorted into envelopes. She leafed through them quickly, finding pictures of Gabriel and his mother, and a few snapshots of a man and a woman who must have been Gabriel’s parents. Surprisingly, however, there were no photos of Gabriel’s parents together.
Like Gabriel, his mother had dark hair, but her eyes were dark too, against pale, milky skin. She was fine featured and very beautiful.
In contrast, Gabriel’s father was gray haired with piercing sapphire eyes. He was attractive for an older man, but there was an overall harshness to his expression that Julia didn’t like. In the pictures, he rarely smiled.
At the back of the drawer, underneath a worn teddy bear, was a diary. Julia opened it and looked at the flyleaf.
This is the Property
of
Suzanne Elizabeth Emerson.
On impulse, she opened it to a random page. Her eyes alighted on the sentence written at the very top:
I’m pregnant.
Owen wants me to have an abortion.
He gave me money and said that he’d make the appointment.
He said that if I did this for him, he’d find a way for us to be together.
But I don’t think I can do it.
Julia slammed the book shut and hurriedly shoved it to the back of the drawer.
Gabriel could come looking for her at any moment. He’d be incredibly angry at what she’d done.
She already regretted it. Suzanne Emerson’s words flashed before her eyes. If Gabriel were to read them, he’d hate his father even more.
She placed the teddy bear back where she found it, along with the photographs and the jewelry box. She was about to return the train to the drawer when she noticed what was next to it, sitting atop the pile of unopened mail.
It was a letter.
She hadn’t recognized the handwriting, but it didn’t matter. Paulina’s name and address were neatly written in the top left corner of the envelope. Somehow, she’d discovered Gabriel’s address and sent the letter to their home.
Their home. The home Gabriel shared with his wife.
Julia wanted to fling the letter into the fireplace.
She was already beginning to keep secrets—reading his mother’s diary when he wasn’t looking. She couldn’t throw Paulina’s letter away, too.
Holding the envelope away from her body, she walked to the bedroom and handed it to him.
“Thanks, but I’ll go through the mail later.” He moved to toss the envelope on the bed, but she stopped him.
“Look at the return address.”
Gabriel glanced at the letter.
He cursed.
“Why is she writing to me? Not even Carson, my lawyer, hears from her now.”
Julia remained motionless, watching him.
He ripped open the letter, expecting to find a long, handwritten missive. He was surprised to find a single piece of cardstock.
He read the printed words quickly.
“It’s a wedding invitation.” He turned the card over, finding Paulina’s flowing script on the back.
Gabriel,
I would never be gauche enough to invite you to my wedding.
I simply wanted you to know that I’m getting married.
After all these years, I’ll finally be a wife and a mother, to two wonderful girls.
Now that we’re both happy, things are as they should be.
XO,
P.
He handed the invitation to Julia for her perusal.
Julia skimmed it.
“She’s getting married.”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel?” Julia searched his face.
He placed the invitation back in the envelope. Then he tapped it against the open palm of his left hand.
“She expressed it correctly—we’re both happy. She’s found the family she wanted.”
His blue eyes trained on Julia’s.
“She has you to thank.”
“Me?”
“You were the one who persuaded me to let her go. That she’d never find her own happiness while she was dependent on me. You were right.”
Julia shifted her weight at his praise, all too conscious of the fact that she’d been snooping through his personal effects only minutes earlier.
“You were right about Maria, too.” Now his eyes were sad.
Julia went to him, wrapping her arms about his waist.
“I wish I weren’t right about Maria. But sometimes loving someone means that you have to let them go.”
“I’ll never let you go. I’d challenge anyone to try to take you away from me.” He sounded fierce.
Julia pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Remember that when you’re working things out in your own mind. No matter what your troubles are, I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
She kissed him
again, then she disappeared into the hall.
Gabriel looked at the invitation, his mind wandering into the past.
Chapter Thirty-eight
January 2010
Toronto, Ontario
Paulina Gruscheva entered the lobby of the Manulife Building, her high-heeled boots clicking against the marble floors, her cell phone pressed to her ear. She’d been resident in Toronto for some time, but Gabriel had refused to see her, speak with her, or entertain any communication with her at all.
She’d grown tired of waiting.
When she reached Gabriel’s voice mail, she hung up and dialed his landline. She prayed silently that Julianne wouldn’t answer. It was bad enough that he was sleeping with her. She didn’t have to have their affair thrown back in her face.
Again.
Undeterred by the fact that he wasn’t answering his phones, she approached Mark, the security guard, demanding that he contact Professor Emerson immediately. When he refused, she fluttered her eyelashes and tried to cajole him. He was immune to her tall, blond, blue-eyed charms.
She raised her voice, creating a scene.
Within minutes, Mark contacted the Professor and asked that he please meet his guest in the lobby.
Paulina smiled triumphantly.
But her smile disappeared when she saw him, his expression furious, his eyes snapping, as he walked toward her. He grabbed her elbow roughly and half-dragged her through the lobby and out to the semicircular driveway in front of the building.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he spat, releasing her.
Paulina retreated a step, surprised by his fury.
“Well?” he demanded.
“I wanted to talk to you. I’ve been here for weeks. You wouldn’t see me!”
“We are not having this conversation again. I said all I had to say to you back in Selinsgrove. You know where you stand.”
He turned to go back into the building, but she caught his arm.
“Why are you doing this to me?” Her voice faltered as she blinked back tears.
Gabriel’s expression softened. Marginally.
“Paulina, it’s over. It’s been over for a while. I’m not trying to do anything to you other than persuade you to move on with your life. And to let me move on with mine.”
Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy Page 127