Gabriel's Inferno

Chapter 9

Lobby was an upscale martini bar and lounge on Bloor Street. Gabriel, in true Dantean fashion, always referred to the club as The Vestibule, because he deluded himself that its inhabitants resembled the virtuous pagans who spent eternity in Dante’s vision of Limbo. In reality, however, Lobby and its patrons had far more in common with the various circles of Hell.

Gabriel did not want to bring Julianne there, let alone Rachel, for Lobby was his hunting ground, the place he always went to feed his hungers.

Too many people knew him there, or knew of him, and he was afraid of what they might say — of what might slip unbidden from blood-red lips.

But he felt comfortable at Lobby, confident that he could control the environment. There was no way in hell he was taking Rachel and Julianne into an environment that he could not control. For this one night, he would be Beowulf instead of Dante, warrior instead of poet. He would carry his sword unsheathed in his hand, and he would slay Grendel and all of his relatives if they even looked in the direction of his precious charges. Although he saw the sheer hypocrisy of it, he swallowed it whole to make Rachel happy.

When Rachel and Julia dutifully followed him out of the cab and toward the front door of Lobby, they were met by a long line of people who were waiting to get into the club. Gabriel disdained the line and approached the bouncer, a large, bald African-Canadian, who wore diamonds in his ears. He shook Gabriel’s hand and greeted him formally. “Mr. Emerson.”

“Ethan, I’d like you to meet my sister, Rachel, and her friend, Julianne.”

Gabriel gestured to the young women, and Ethan smiled and nodded, stepping aside to let them in.

“What was that about?” Julia whispered to Rachel as they entered a modern and tastefully decorated black-and-white space.

“Gabriel is on the vip list, apparently. Don’t ask.” Rachel wrinkled her nose.

Gabriel led them to the back of the club, to an exclusive area he had reserved known as the White Lounge, imaginatively named because of its monochromatic decor. The two friends sat on a low, white banquette, lounging comfortably on the ermine covered cushions. From their perch, they could see the dance floor that was located like a hub at the entrances to the private lounges. At the moment, no one was dancing.

Rachel gave her protégé an admiring glance. “Julia looks beautiful, doesn’t she, Gabriel? Really gorgeous.”

Julia blushed an abnormal shade of crimson and began fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “Rachel, please,” she whispered.

“What? Isn’t she beautiful?” Rachel frowned over at her brother, who was shooting her a warning glance.

“You both look fine,” he said, admitting nothing and shifting his legs as if he were in pain.

Julia shook her head minutely and cursed under her breath, wondering why she cared so much about his opinions and why it was so difficult for him to be nice. Next to her, Rachel shrugged. It was Gabriel’s money.

And if he didn’t worry about throwing away almost two thousand dollars to make Julia look fine, who was she to object? Except that his obvious lack of enthusiasm was an indictment of her ability to elicit a reaction from him.

So she rose to the challenge.

“Hey, Julia…” she began, making sure Gabriel was listening and watching him out of the corner of her gray eyes, “how was your date with Paul?”

Julia’s skin maintained its current shade of red. “It was very nice. He’s a real gentleman. Very old-fashioned.”

She resisted the urge to turn to Gabriel to see if he was listening. She needn’t have bothered. Rachel was doing enough watching for both of them.

“And he took you to dinner?”

“Yes. To The Nataraj, his favorite Indian restaurant. Tomorrow he’s taking me to a double-feature at the Film Festival and afterward to Chinatown.”

“Is he cute?”

Julia squirmed. “If a rugby player could be termed cute. But he’s handsome and kind. He treats me like a princess.”

“Angelfucker.”

Rachel and Julia turned to Gabriel, not quite sure they heard what they thought they heard. Julia’s eyebrows went up, and frowning, she looked away.

Satisfied that she’d provoked a reaction from her brother commen-surate with his most recent infraction, Rachel turned in her seat to check her makeup in the mirror behind them. She was dabbing her rose-colored Chanel-coated lips when she suddenly stopped, staring at someone who was walking in their direction.

“Gabriel, that woman is totally eye-fucking you! What the hell?”

As if in response to Rachel’s exclamation, an artificially blond-haired waitress approached them immediately.

“Mr. Emerson! It’s so good to see you again.” The waitress leaned down, exposing the top of her moderately endowed cleavage and resting a finely manicured hand on his shoulder, her coral-colored nails gleaming in the low light.

Julia scowled in spite of herself and wondered if the waitress planned on doing something to Gabriel with those fingernails, or if she was just flashing them to scare other women away.

The woman nodded at them. “My name is Alicia, and I’ll be your server.”

“Start a tab for me please. Drinks for the three of us are on me and one for Ethan and yourself, of course.” Gabriel placed a folded bill in her hand, effectively freeing his shoulder from her touch.

She smiled faintly and palmed it.

“Ladies?” she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on Gabriel and smiling provocatively, the tip of her tongue just poking out between her coral-colored lips.

“A Cosmo for me,” said Rachel.

Julia froze.

“What would you like?” Rachel nudged her.

“I…don’t know,” Julia stammered, wondering what she could order that wouldn’t embarrass her. In a place like Lobby she couldn’t exactly order a beer or start doing shots of tequila, which were her usual poisons.

“Two Cosmos, then.” Rachel turned back to her friend. “You’ll love them — they’re great.”

“A double shot of Laphroaig twenty-five-year-old, neat, please. And ask the bartender for a small shot glass of spring water, non-sparkling,” Gabriel instructed without making eye contact with the waitress.

The waitress left, and Rachel began to laugh. “Big brother, only you could make ordering a drink sound pretentious.”

Julia giggled, if only because she liked the sight of Gabriel’s irritation at his sister’s characterization.

“What’s Laphroaig?” she asked.

“A single malt Scotch whisky.”

“And the spring water?”

“Just a drop or two to open up the taste. I’l let you try it when it arrives.” He hazarded a small smile in her direction, and she turned away, looking down at her lovely shoes.

He followed her gaze and found himself entranced by her beautiful high heels. Rachel had no idea how fine a purchase they’d been. It was worth every penny just to see Miss Mitchell’s lovely legs, arched and lengthened by those exquisite shoes. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoping the movement would successfully dislodge his advancing arousal from its current trap.

It didn’t.

“I guess you can wait for the drinks, Gabriel. Julia and I are going to dance.”

Before Julia could protest, Rachel had pulled her onto the dance floor, motioned to the dj for him to turn the music up, and proceeded to dance with enthusiasm.

Julia, on the other hand, was uncomfortable. She could see that Gabriel had moved so that he could stare at her, leaning back on the banquette and watching, eyes intense and unblinking. She wondered if he’d noticed the fact that she wasn’t wearing traditional panties underneath her dress.

Is that something men notice? Panty lines?

She was unable to look away as his eyes leisurely smoothed over her from head to foot, resting longer than necessary on her shapely bare legs and her red-soled heels.

“I can’t dance in these shoes,” Julia protested in her friend’s ear.

“Bullshit. Just move your body and let your feet take a rest. And you look great, by the way. My brother is an idiot.”

Julia turned her back on her professor and began to dance, closing her eyes and letting the music take her. It was a remarkable feeling. As soon as she forgot about him and his penetrating blue eyes, she was actually able to enjoy herself. Marginally.

I wonder if he can see vestiges of my thong through the fabric of my dress.

Scratch that. I hope he can see it. I hope it tortures him. Enjoy the view, Professor, because that’s all you’re ever going to get.

When the song ended, Rachel approached the dj with a smile, asking what his plans were for the next few musical choices. Whatever he said must have pleased her, because she pumped a fist in the air in a very unladylike manner and almost let out a yell.

“Awesome!” she cried, crossing the floor to return to Julia, grabbing her hands and swinging her around.

Now that Julia and Rachel were dancing (and obviously enjoying themselves), a number of people from various adjoining lounges decided to join them, including a very handsome blond-haired man.

“Hi,” he offered, edging in closer to Julia and moving in time to the music.

“Hi,” she managed, feeling somewhat conspicuous.

She thought about that old line, about how women associate dancing with sex. This man, whoever he was, would no doubt be excellent at the latter, because he certainly very heterosexually excelled at the former. It was breathtaking, actually.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” He smiled.

Julia noticed he had very white teeth and that his eyes were bright blue, as blue as a cornflower. She momentarily forgot to answer him as she focused on the startling color of his eyes.

“I’m Brad. What’s your name?” He leaned forward, his ear almost brushing against her lips in order to hear her response over the pulsing music.

She blinked a little at his nearness. “Julia.”

“Pleased to meet you, Julia. That’s a beautiful name.”

She indicated that she’d heard him, and sent a desperate look to Rachel, hoping she would come to her rescue. But Rachel was too busy dancing with her eyes closed, because apparently she loved the current song.

“Can I buy you a drink? My friends and I have a table up front.” He gestured vaguely, but Julia did not follow his gesture.

“Thanks, but I’m with my friend.”

He smiled, undeterred, and moved closer. “Bring your friend with you. You have the most beautiful eyes. I couldn’t live with myself if I let you get away and didn’t ask for your number.”

“Um…I don’t know…”

“Let me at least give you mine.”

Julia’s eyes darted in Rachel’s direction, which was a bad decision because it prevented her from seeing Brad move toward her. She ended up stepping right on his toes, which made him wince in pain and pushed her off balance.

He caught her before she hit the floor and held her close to his chest while she found her feet. She had to admit, he had a muscular chest, and surprisingly strong arms for someone who wore a suit.

“Easy there, beautiful. I’m sorry I cut you off like that. Are you all right?” He kept his left hand on her arm and moved his right so that he could brush the curls out of her eyes. He looked down at her and smiled.

“I’m fine. Thank you for not letting me fall.”

“I’d be a fool to let you go, Julia.”

She noticed obliquely that his smile was not creepy. He seemed nice, even. His suit told her that he’d come to the club after work and that he probably worked downtown for a large company — someplace where they still demanded that young men wear suits and ties. And really shiny black shoes.

He was confident, she thought, but not arrogant. And his words, though careful y chosen, did not seem calculated. He was, perhaps, the kind of person who she could imagine dating for a little while, but she doubted that they would have much in common. Certainly, dancing was not something she wanted to do again in the near future. Although dancing with him…

She was far too shy to extend the conversation any further. She opened her mouth to speak her regrets, but just then someone grabbed her other arm and effectively body-checked Brad out of the way. Something sent a shock wave rippling across the surface of her skin, and she knew immediately whose long, cool fingers wrapped around her bare upper arm.

“Are you all right?” Gabriel asked, speaking and looking only at Julia.

His calm and concerned tone totally belied the inexplicable anger in his eyes.

His anger confused her, so she didn’t answer. She looked dumbfounded, which Brad noticed immediately.

“Is this asshole hurting you?” he asked, straightening his shoulders as he scowled at Gabriel. He made a move forward, looking rather menacing.

Julia shook her head in response, still somewhat shocked.

“She’s with me,” snarled Gabriel, not even bothering to turn his head in Brad’s direction.

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.

When Rachel returned, collapsing in exhaustion on the banquette, Julia stood up and excused herself. She entered the back hallway in search of the ladies’ room. Gabriel’s arrogance and condescension truly infuriated her. He didn’t want her, but now he didn’t want anyone else to have her either. What was his problem?

She was so fixated on Gabriel that she didn’t see a man standing in the hallway. She ran right into him, springing backward and careening dangerously toward the floor. Luckily, the man caught her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, looking up into the amused face of Ethan, the bouncer.

“No problem.” He released her immediately.

“I was looking for the ladies’ room.”

He pointed with his cell phone. “Other direction.” Returning to the text he’d been composing before she ran into him, he cursed. “Damn it.”

“Did I break something?”

Ethan shook his head. “No. I’m just having…text trouble.”

Julia smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” He eyed her appraisingly. “I’m impressed. Emerson doesn’t usually arrive with a lady.”

“Why not?”

Ethan snorted. “Are you serious? Look around you. How many couples do you think arrived together?”

“Oh,” she said. “Is he here a lot?”

Ethan looked at her carefully, wondering how much he should reveal.

“You should probably ask him that.”

She looked ill.

When he saw her expression, he tried to comfort her. “Hey, he’s here with you tonight. That says something, doesn’t it?”

She looked down at her hands and fidgeted with her fingernails. “Um, he isn’t really with me. I’m just an old friend of his sister.”

She looked so sad, with those big brown eyes and that trembling lower lip, Ethan tried to think of something to distract her.

“Julianne, you don’t happen to speak Italian do you?”

She smiled. “Um, it’s Julia, actually. And yes, I do. I’m studying Italian at university.”

Ethan’s expression instantly brightened. “Could you help me text something to my girlfriend? She’s Italian. I’d like to impress her.”

“Gabriel’s Italian is better than mine. You should ask him.”

Ethan shot her a look. “Are you kidding? I don’t want him anywhere near my woman. I see how women react to him here. They’re all over him.”

Julia felt ill once again, but she pushed her revulsion aside. “Sure, I’ll translate whatever you want.”

Ethan handed her his phone, and she began entering his words in Italian. She giggled slightly at some of the more intimate sounding phrases, but on the whole Julia was impressed that Ethan, for all his toughness and rough edges, cared enough about his girlfriend to tell her how much he loved her and to reassure her that he was keeping the women of Lobby at bay. She was just finishing the text when someone came up behind them.

“Ahem.”

Julia looked up into a familiar pair of angry blue eyes.

“Mr. Emerson,” said Ethan.

“Ethan,” Gabriel growled.

Julia wasn’t sure her ears were working. It sounded like Gabriel had rumbled low in his chest like an animal, but that was impossible.

She pressed send on the phone and handed it back to Ethan. “There you are. Now we’re all set.”

“Thanks, Julia. I’ll send a drink over to you.” Ethan nodded at Gabriel and disappeared around a corner.

Julia began to walk toward the restroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Gabriel followed her.

“To the ladies’ room. What’s it to you?”

He shot out his hand and grasped her wrist, grazing the pad of his thumb across the veins that were pulsating underneath her pale skin. She gasped.

He moved her until they were hidden in a long, dark corridor, pushing her against a wall. He continued to hold her wrist, drinking in the feel of her quickening pulse beneath his fingers and placing his other hand on the wall next to her shoulder. She was trapped.

Gabriel took a moment to inhale her vanilla scent and licked his lips, but his eyes were far from happy. “Why did you give him your number?

He lives with a woman, you know. Now he’s buying you drinks and calling you Julia?”

“That’s my name, Professor! You’re the only one who doesn’t use it.

And at this point, even if you wanted to use it, I wouldn’t let you. I think you should have to call me Miss Mitchell forever. And I didn’t give him my number.”

“You entered your number into his phone. Do you really put yourself out there with multiple men at the same time?”

Julia shook her head, too angry to respond, and tried to duck under his elbow, but he caught her around the waist.

“Dance with me.”

She snickered. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Don’t be so difficult.”

“I’m just getting started being difficult with you, Professor.”

“Watch it.” He sounded ominous.

Julia waited a moment for the chill his tone gave her to travel up and down her spine. “Why don’t you just stick a knife into my heart and get it over with?” she whispered, looking him straight in the eye. “Haven’t you hurt me enough?”

Gabriel released her immediately and reeled back. “Julianne.” Her name rolled off his tongue as something between a reproach and a question.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked very upset. Not angry, but upset.

Wounded, perhaps.

“Am I so evil?” His voice was low, just above a whisper.

Julia shook her head no, and her shoulders sagged.

“I have no wish to hurt you. Far from it.” He looked down at her intentionally submissive posture, and his eyes quickly sought her mouth.

He watched her lower lip push out slightly and tremble. Her eyes darted around anxiously.

She’s frightened, you asshole. Ease up!

“You mentioned before that I hadn’t asked you to dance. Well, now I’m asking.” He softened his voice considerably. “Julianne, will you do me the honor of dancing with me? Please?”

He flashed a winning smile and tilted his head a little…a signature seductive move. But it didn’t have the effect he desired, for Julia would not lift her head. He reached out to smooth his fingers gently across her wrist, as if he was trying to apologize to her skin. (Not that her skin would have accepted his apology.)

Julia clutched at her neck instinctively, suddenly feeling as if she was experiencing physical whiplash from his emotional caprice. Gabriel gazed at the hand that fluttered against her milk-white throat, and once again he saw her blue veins quiver with every heartbeat.

Like a hummingbird, he thought. So tiny. So fragile. Be careful…

She swallowed noisily and eagerly searched out an exit.

“Please,” he repeated, his eyes shining in the darkness.

“I can’t dance.”

“You were just dancing.”

“Not slow dancing. I’ll step on your toes and injure you with these heels. Or I’ll trip and end up on the floor, and you’ll be humiliated. You’re already angry with me…” Her lower lip began to tremble more noticeably.

He took a step closer, and she pressed herself more tightly against the wall, almost as if she was trying to disappear through it in order to escape him. He took her hand and regally lifted it to his lips. Then with a smile firmly on his face, he inched forward, leaning down and bringing his mouth to her ear. Julia’s skin vibrated with his nearness and the feel of his breath across her skin.

“Julianne, how could I stay angry with someone so sweet? I promise I won’t become cross or humiliated. You’ll be able to dance with me.” His whisper was bracing and soft, sexual and seductive, Scotch and peppermint.

“Come.”

He took her hand in his, and the same familiar spark coursed across her skin. As he waited for her to respond, he felt her still beneath his touch, and he wondered at the strange reaction she was having to him. It seemed as if his charm was actually working, even though she’d been shaking a moment before.

“Please, Professor,” she breathed, fixating on his shirt front, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“I thought we were supposed to be Gabriel and Julianne tonight.”

“You don’t really want to dance with me. It’s just the Scotch talking.”

His eyebrows shot up, and he had to bite back a harsh retort. She was pushing his buttons, almost as if she knew exactly which buttons to push and when.

“One slow dance. That’s all I ask.”

“Why would you want to dance with a virgin?” she whispered, suddenly fascinated by the bows on her shoes.

His spine stiffened. “Not just any virgin, but you, Julianne. I thought you might want to dance with someone who wasn’t about to molest you on the dance floor and take liberties with you in front of a club full of sexually-aggressive men.”

She appeared skeptical but said nothing.

“I’m trying to keep the wolves at bay,” he said, his voice low.

A lion in charge of wolves, she thought. How convenient.

He hadn’t made a joke; he was looking at her seriously, his intense blue eyes boring into hers.

“One dance with me and they’ll know enough to leave you alone. That should be an improvement over the current state of affairs.” He smiled faintly.

“If I’m very lucky, no one will bother you for the rest of the evening, and I won’t have to guard my charge so closely.”

She bristled at his characterization but relented, realizing that at this stage of his life he was used to getting his way — always.

It wasn’t always that way, though, was it Gabriel?

“What shall we dance to?” He persuaded her to reenter the lounge, placing a hand on her lower back. “I’ll request whatever you want. How about Nine Inch Nails? Maybe a little Closer?”

He grinned in order to indicate that he was kidding. But Julia wasn’t looking at his face, she was watching the floor so she didn’t trip and embarrass herself and The Professor. Nevertheless, as soon as the name of that song left his lips, she froze.

He nearly ran into the back of her she stopped so suddenly. Through the tips of his fingers he felt the marked coolness of her body and immediately and fiercely regretted ever suggesting that song. He moved to regard her face, and what he saw troubled him deeply.

“Julianne, look at me.”

Her breathing paused.

“Please,” he added.

Obediently, she raised her wide brown eyes to his and looked up at him through her long eyelashes. He saw fear and radical unease on her face, and something inside of him twisted.

“It was a joke. And in poor taste. Forgive me. I would never request that song for a dance with you. It would be the worst form of blasphemy, to expose someone like you to words like that.”

Julia’s eyelashes fluttered in her confusion.

“I know I’ve been a bit of a — stronzo tonight. But I’ll choose something nice. I promise.”

Unwilling to release her for fear she might bolt, Gabriel brought her to the dj’s booth and slipped him a bill, whispering his request. The dj nodded and smiled, saluting Julia before he searched for the requested song.

Gabriel walked her to the dance floor and pulled her in close — but not too close. He noticed that her hands, which were so much smaller than his, had begun to sweat. It didn’t occur to him that perhaps she was having this reaction because of the song he mentioned. No, his only thought was that she was completely averse to him, and he’d made matters worse by being insulting and overbearing with her when all he really wanted to do was save her from the wolves that had descended to sniff at her skirts.

Why the hell do I care? She isn’t a child. She isn’t even a friend.

He felt her shiver, and again he regretted being harsh with her. She was a delicate little thing and clearly quite sensitive. He shouldn’t have mentioned the fact that he’d observed that she was a virgin. That was a boorish thing to do. Grace would have been appalled at his lack of gentility, and rightly so.

Perhaps he could make it up to the beautiful Julianne by dancing with her nicely and showing that he could act like a gentleman, after all. Gabriel placed his hand at the small of her back and flexed it. Immediately, he felt her breathing quicken.

“Relax,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the skin of her cheek accidentally.

He brought their bodies close together, making sure that she could feel his chest against hers. Strong and hard met gentle and soft, as they brushed against one another through their clothing. Gabriel was now on his best behavior.

Julia didn’t recognize the song he’d requested. The vocalist was singing in Spanish, and the words were unfamiliar, although she recognized the phrase besame mucho and knew that it translated as kiss me a lot. The arrangement itself was slow Latin jazz, and they swayed to it gently, Gabriel moving her across the dance floor like an expert. The fact that he’d chosen such an overtly romantic song made her blush.

I kissed you a lot, Gabriel, for one glorious evening. But you don’t remember.

I wonder if you’d remember me if I kissed you…

She felt his pinky graze the top of her barely there panties through her dress, and she wondered if he knew what lay beneath his finger. The thought that perhaps he did made her skin explode in heat. She hid her eyes by keeping them determinedly fixed on the buttons of his shirt.

“It would be better if you looked me in the eye. It will be easier for you to follow my lead.”

She found him smiling down at her, a wide and genuine smile that she hadn’t seen in years. Her heart fluttered, and she beamed back at him, dropping her guard (but not her special panties) for only an instant.

Gabriel’s smile slipped. “Your face is familiar. Are you sure Rachel never introduced us during one of my visits home?”

Julia’s eyes brightened with what looked like hope. “She didn’t introduce us, no, but we…”

“I could have sworn I’d met you before.” He wrinkled his forehead in confusion.

“Gabriel?” she prompted, trying to reveal the truth with her eyes.

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “No, I guess we haven’t. But you remind me of Beatrice, from Holiday’s painting. Isn’t it funny that you own it?”

If Gabriel had known what to look for, or if he’d been better at reading her, he would have seen that she appeared slightly ill and any hope on her face disappeared.

She bit her lip absently. “A — friend told me about that painting.

That’s why I bought it.”

“Your friend has good taste.”

Something about her answer displeased him, but he dismissed his displeasure as derivative of the fact that she was so tense in his arms. He sighed and brought their foreheads together, his warm breath on her face.

He smelled of Laphroaig and something distinctively Gabrielian and potentially dangerous.

“Julianne, I promise I won’t bite. You don’t have to be anxious.”

She stiffened, even though she knew he was trying to put her at ease.

But he’d upset her countless times, and she was fatigued by it. She was not some marionette on a string that he could toy with for his own mercurial amusement, just because some blond-haired banker sent her a truffle. It seemed that this dance was simply an opportunity for him to declare his superiority.

“I don’t think this is very professional,” she began, her eyes suddenly afire.

His smile slid off his face, and his eyes flashed to hers. “No, it isn’t, Miss Mitchell. I’m not being professional with you, at all. I suppose it’s no excuse for me to claim that I wanted to dance with the prettiest girl in the club?”

Her lovely red mouth opened slightly, then he watched her press her lips together.

“I don’t believe you.”

“What, that you’re easily the most beautiful woman here? With all due respect to my sister? Or that I, cold-hearted bastard that I am, would want to dance with you to something sweet?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” she snapped.

“I’m not, Julianne. ”

He flexed his arm across her lower spine, and she gasped because it did something to her on the inside. He knew it, of course, and had expected a reaction. What he did not know was that he’d touched her there before, that he’d been the first man to ever touch her there. And her skin had never quite recovered from his absence.

He watched her subsequent irritation with no little amusement. “When you aren’t frowning at me, and your eyes are large and soft, you look very pretty. You’re attractive at all times, but in those moments, you look like an angel. It’s almost as if you are…you look like…”

A sudden flash of recognition passed over his face, and Julia stopped dancing.

She squeezed his hand and looked up into his eyes, willing him to remember. “What, Gabriel? Do I look like someone?”

The expression on his face vanished as quickly as it appeared, and he shook his head, smiling at her indulgently. “Just a passing fancy. Don’t worry, Miss Mitchell, the dance is almost over. Then you’ll be free of me.”

“I only wish I could be,” she mumbled.

“What’s that?” He brought his forehead close to hers again.

Without thinking about how intimate the action would be, he released her hand and slowly pushed a lock of her hair aside, the backs of his fingers trailing across the skin at her neck much longer than necessary.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered.

“I feel like Cinderella. Rachel bought my dress and my shoes.” Julia changed the subject quickly.

He withdrew his hand. “Do you really feel like Cinderella?”

She nodded.

“It takes so little to make you happy,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Your dress is lovely. Rachel must have known your favorite color.”

“How did you know that purple is my favorite color?”

“Your apartment is covered in it.”

She grimaced in memory of his one and only visit to her hobbit hole.

He wanted to make her look at him — only at him. “Your shoes are exquisite.” His eyes traveled from where the top of her head lined up with his chin and down to her feet.

She shrugged. “I’m worried I’ll fall.”

“I won’t let you.”

“Rachel is very generous.”

“She is. As was Grace.”

Julia nodded.

“But not me.” His remark came out almost as a question, and his eyes sought hers.

“I never said that. In fact, I think that you can be very generous, when you want to.”

“When I want to?”

“Yes. I was hungry, and you fed me.” Twice, thought Julia.

“You were hungry?” Gabriel’s voice was rough, horrified, and he stopped dancing immediately. “You’re going hungry?” His eyes hardened into two icy blue jewels, and his voice cooled to the temperature of water gliding over a glacier.

“Not starving, Professor, just a little hungry — for steak. And apples.”

She glanced up at him shyly, hoping to soothe his sudden show of temper.

Gabriel was far too upset to notice the remark about apples. His very stomach was lodged in his throat as he contemplated the reality of graduate student poverty — a reality he was al too familiar with — and the poor and hungry Miss Mitchell. No wonder she was so pale and so thin.

“Tell me the truth. Do you have enough money to live on or not? I will go to the chair of my department on Monday and have him increase your fellowship if you tell me you need it. I’ll give you my American Express card tonight, for God’s sake. I won’t have you hungry. I won’t.”

Julia was momentarily silent, for his reaction astonished her.

“I’m fine, Professor. I have enough money if I’m careful. My apartment makes cooking a problem, but I promise you, I’m not starving.”

Gabriel slowly began dancing again, leading her gently across the floor.

He looked down at her lovely shoes. “Will you be selling those to buy groceries? Or to pay your rent?”

“Of course not! They came from Grace, sort of. I would never, ever, part with them. No matter what.”

“Will you promise that if ever you are desperate for money, you’ll come to me? For Grace’s sake?”

Julia averted her eyes, choosing to remain silent.

He sighed and lowered his voice. “I know I don’t deserve your trust, but I’m asking for it only in this one respect. Will you promise?”

She took a deep breath and held it. “Is it very important to you?”

“In the extreme. Yes.”

She exhaled noisily. “Then yes, I promise.”

“Thank you.” He exhaled in relief.

“Rachel and Grace were always good to me, especially after my mother died.”

“When did your mother die?”

“My senior year of high school. I was already living with my dad in Selinsgrove by then. She was in St. Louis.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” She moved her mouth as if she was going to say something further, but stopped.

“It’s all right,” he whispered. “You can say it.” He gazed into her eyes encouragingly, and for a moment Julia forgot what she’d wanted to say. But she recovered herself.

“Um, I was just going to say that if you ever need someone to talk to — about Grace, I mean. I know Rachel is going back to Philadelphia.

But I’ll be here, um, obviously. Not that it would be very professional, but I’ll be around. Um. Yeah, that’s it.”

She avoided his eyes, and he felt her whole body tense as if she was steeling herself for something awful to happen.

What have I done to this poor girl? She’s terrified I’ll lash out at her or something.

Gabriel knew that he deserved her wariness, and so he resolved to lavish her with kindness…at least until the song ended and they inhabited their professional roles once again. Then he would be distant, but gentle.

“Julianne, look at me. You know, I don’t have any prohibitions against people looking me in the eye.”

She glanced up at him hesitantly.

“That’s a very kind offer. Thank you. I don’t like to talk about certain things, but I’ll keep you in mind.” He smiled at her again, and this time the smile remained. “You have both charity and kindness, two of the most important of the heavenly virtues. In fact, I’m sure you have all seven.”

Especially chastity, they each thought to themselves, independently.

And he thinks chastity is something to ridicule, thought Julia.

“I haven’t really danced like this before,” she said wistfully.

“Then I’m glad I’m your first.” He squeezed her hand warmly.

Julia froze.

“Julianne? What’s wrong?”

Her eyes glazed over, and her skin grew very cold. Gabriel watched as the virulent blush that had spread across her cheeks not two minutes earlier faded completely, and her skin became a translucent white, like rice paper.

She wouldn’t look at him, and when he flexed his hand against her lower back, it was as if she couldn’t even feel it.

When Julia came out of her trance or shock or whatever it was, he tried to get her to talk to him, but she was too shaken to do so. He had no idea what had happened, so he waved to Rachel and asked her to take Julia to the ladies’ room. Then he went to the bar and ordered a double, downing it quickly before they returned.

Gabriel made an executive decision and decided it was time for them to go home. Miss Mitchell was clearly unwell, and The Vestibule was no place for her, even under normal circumstances. He knew that at a certain point in the evening the men would become drunk and grabby and the women would become drunk and horny. He didn’t want his baby sister and the beautiful and virginal Miss Mitchell exposed to either type of behavior. So he settled his tab and asked Ethan to provide them with two taxis, with the full intention of paying the taxi driver for Miss Mitchell’s cab and instructing him to wait outside her residence to see that she entered safely.

Alas for poor Gabriel, Rachel had a plan of her own.

“Good night, Julia! I’ll meet you back at your place, Gabriel. Thanks for seeing her home personally!” Rachel hurled herself into one of the cabs, slamming the door behind her, and handed the cabbie a twenty so that he would peel out before Gabriel could take a single step.

He was now pissed in a very different sense, since it was obvious what his sister was trying to do. Nevertheless, she was less likely to run into some ne’er-do-well in the lobby of the Manulife Building with security on duty than Miss Mitchell was on Madison Avenue. So he couldn’t fault her judgment.

Gabriel helped Julia into the cab and climbed in after her. When they stopped in front of her building, he waved her money aside and instructed the cabbie to wait for him. He escorted Julia to the front door of her building and stood in the soft porch light while she tried to find her keys.

She dropped them, of course, because she was still shaky after what happened at the club. Gabriel picked them up, trying keys in the lock until he successfully opened the door. He returned her key ring and brushed a finger across the back of her hand. Then he stood staring down at her with a funny look on his face.

Julia inhaled sharply and began to talk to his black pointed-toe shoes (which were a tad too fashionable even for Gabriel), because she could not say what needed to be said and look into his beautiful but cold eyes.

“Professor Emerson, I want to thank you for opening doors for me and for asking me to dance. I’m sure it was demeaning to have to behave that way to a student. I know that you’re only tolerating me because Rachel is here, and that when she’s gone everything will go back to normal. And I promise I won’t say anything — to anyone. I’m really good at keeping secrets.

“I’m going to request another thesis director. I know you don’t think I’m very bright, and you only changed your mind because you felt sorry for me because of my apartment. It’s clear from what you said tonight that you think I’m beneath you, and that it pains you to have to talk to a stupid little virgin. Good-bye.”

With a heavy heart, Julia turned to walk into the building.

Gabriel moved to block her path.

“Are you quite finished?” His voice grew very harsh.

She met his gaze, wide-eyed and trembling.

“You’ve delivered your speech; I believe courtesy demands that I be given an opportunity to respond to your remarks. So if you please…” He moved out of the doorway and stood, staring down at her with an expression of nearly concealed fury.

“I open doors for you because that is how a lady is supposed to be treated, and you are, after all, a lady, Miss Mitchell. I haven’t always behaved like a gentleman, but Grace tried her best.

“As for Rachel, she’s a sweet girl, but sentimental. She’d have me reciting sonnets under your window like a teenage boy. So let’s leave my sister out of this, shall we?

“As for you, if Grace adopted you like she adopted me, that tells me she saw something very special in you. She had a way of healing people through her love. Unfortunately, in your case, as in mine, she probably arrived a little too late.”

Julia raised her eyebrows at this last statement, wondering silently what it meant, but she did not have the courage to ask him.

“I asked you to dance because I wanted your company. Your mind is good, and your personality is charming. If you want another director, that’s your prerogative. But frankly, I’m disappointed. I never thought of you as a quitter.

“If you think I do things for you out of pity, then you don’t know me very well. I am a selfish and self-absorbed bastard who barely notices the concerns of other human beings. Damn your little speech, damn your low self-esteem, and damn the program.” He huffed in frustration, trying hard not to raise his voice. “Your virginity is not something to be ashamed of, and it’s certainly none of my business. I just wanted to make you smile and…”

Gabriel’s voice trailed off as his hand found Julia’s chin. He lifted her face gently, and their eyes met.

He found himself moving toward her, his face approaching hers, their lips inches apart. So close that she could feel his warm breath on her face.

Scotch and peppermint…

They both inhaled deeply, drinking in one another’s scent. She closed her eyes, and her tongue darted out quickly to wet her lower lip. She waited.

“Facilis descensus Averni,” he whispered, his ominous and preternatural words striking her very soul. “‘The descent to Hell is easy.’”

Gabriel stood up very straight, released her chin, and strode to the taxi, slamming the car door behind him.

Julia opened her eyes to see the cab pull away. She leaned against the door for support, her legs turning to jelly.