Gabriel's Inferno

Chapter 16

The graduate students sat in the now silent seminar room, stunned. Since the majority of the students weren’t Dante specialists, they quickly dismissed the altercation as an entertaining (albeit aberrant) internecine debate.

Academics could be passionate about their subject matter; everyone knew it. Some, like Julia and The Professor, were more passionate than others.

Today’s seminar was a train wreck, of course, but not entirely surprising. Not, thought Paul, as bizarre as some of the things that happened the previous semester in Professor Singer’s Medieval Torture Methods seminar…which turned out to be surprisingly hands-on…

As the students slowly realized that the steel-cage death match they’d just witnessed was over, and that there would be no second round (or pop-corn), they began filing out, with the exception of Christa, Paul, and Julia.

Christa fixed Julia with narrowed eyes and went after The Professor like a co-dependent duckling.

Paul closed his eyes and groaned. “Are you suicidal?”

Julia seemed to be shaking herself awake from a dream. “What?”

“Why did you provoke him like that? He’s looking for a reason to get rid of you!”

She was only now able to grasp the gravity of her predicament. It was as if she’d been another person, spewing venom and anger, without any thought about the audience. And now that she’d vented she felt deflated, like a lonely and empty balloon left after a child’s birthday party. She slowly began packing her things and tried to steel herself for what she knew would be a very, very unpleasant conversation in The Professor’s office.

“I don’t think you should go,” said Paul.

“I don’t want to go.”

“Then don’t. Send him an e-mail. Tell him you’re sick — and you’re sorry.”

Julia thought about that for a moment. It was very, very tempting.

But she knew that her only chance at saving her career would be to woman up and take her punishment, and try to piece her personal life together afterward. If that was even possible.

“If I don’t go to his office, he’ll be even angrier. He could kick me out.

And I need this class, or I won’t be able to graduate in May.”

“Then I’m going with you. Better yet, I’ll speak with him first.” Paul drew himself up to his full height and flexed his arms.

“No, you need to stay out of this. I’m going to go and apologize and let him yell at me. And when he has his pound of flesh, he’ll let me go.”

“The quality of mercy is not strained,” muttered Paul. “Not that he would know anything about that. What were you fighting about, anyway? Dante didn’t have a mistress called Paulina.”

Julia blinked rapidly. “I found an article about Pia de’ Tolomei. Paulina was one of her nicknames.”

“Pia de’ Tolomei wasn’t one of Dante’s mistresses. There were rumors of mistresses and illegitimate children, so you weren’t completely wrong.

But I’m sorry Julia, Emerson is right — no one believes that Pia was Dante’s mistress. No one.”

Julia chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “But he wouldn’t let me explain. And I just kind of…snapped.”

“You snapped, all right. If it were anyone else, I’d be cheering you on thinking that he got what was coming to him. The uptight prick. But in your case, I knew he’d overreact.” Paul shook his head. “Let me talk to him.”

“You’re writing your dissertation with him, you can’t have him angry with you. If it’s too much, I’ll leave. And I’ll file a harassment complaint.”

Paul gazed down at her with a very worried expression. “I don’t feel right about this. He’s furious.”

“What can he do? He’s the big bad Professor, I’m the little grad student.

He has all the power.”

“Power does funny things to people.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Paul stuck his head outside the door of the seminar room in order to check the hallway.

“Emerson is a twisted fuck. He was involved with Professor Singer and that means that he…” Paul stopped suddenly and shook his head.

“That means that he — what?”

“If he has been harassing you, or trying to get you to do things, let me know and I’ll help you. We can file a complaint.”

Julia gazed at him blankly. “There’s nothing sinister going on here. He’s just a crusty Professor who doesn’t like to be contradicted. I’m going to eat humble pie in his office, and hopefully, he won’t make me drop his class.”

“I hope you’re right. He’s always been professional with his students.

But with you, things are different.”

Paul walked Julia to The Professor’s office and without warning, knocked on the door.

Professor Emerson opened the door quickly, his eyes still an angry, sparking lapis. “What do you want?” he spat, shooting daggers at Julia.

“Just a minute of your time,” said Paul mildly.

“Not now. Tomorrow.”

“But Professor, I…”

“Tomorrow, Mr. Norris. Don’t push me.”

Paul gave Julia a very worried look and mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”

The Professor waited until Paul had disappeared around the corner before stepping aside to let Julia in. He closed the door behind her and walked over to the window.

Abandon hope all ye who enter here…

The Professor’s office was dark, illuminated only by his desk lamp. He’d drawn the blinds and was now leaning as far away from her as possible and rubbing his eyes with his inky fingers.

Julia moved her knapsack in front of her like a shield, clasping it with two hands. When he didn’t speak, she busied herself by glancing around the room. Her eyes alighted on a chair — the very uncomfortable Ikea chair that she sat on back in September during her first ill-fated meeting with The Professor. The chair had been smashed to bits and was lying in small, bent pieces that were scattered across the Persian carpet.

Julia’s eyes slowly moved from the pieces to The Professor and back again. He smashed a chair. He smashed a metal chair.

His eyes opened, and she saw a strange and dangerous calmness in their blue depths. Here was the dragon in his den. And she was unarmed.

“If you were anyone else I’d have you expelled.”

Julia shook as soon as she heard the tone of his voice. It was decep-tively calm and soft, like silk brushing across bare skin. But the undertone was steel and ice.

“That was the most disgusting display of infantile behavior I have ever witnessed. Your disrespectful attitude is absolutely unacceptable. On top of that, I can’t even begin to express the anger I have over what you said about Paulina. You are never to speak about her again. Do I make myself clear?”

Julia swallowed hard but was too upset to answer.

“I said do I make myself clear?” he growled.

“Yes.”

“My self-control is tenuous at best. You would do well not to push it.

And I expect you to fight your own battles and not manipulate Paul into rescuing you from your own stupidity. He has his own problems.”

Julia looked at the carpet, avoiding his eyes, which seemed to glow in the darkness.

“I think you wanted me to lose my temper. I think you wanted me to get angry and make a scene, so you’d be justified in running away. You wanted me to behave like every other abusive asshole that has knocked you around. Well, I’m not an abusive asshole, and I’m not going to do that.”

She glanced over at the twisted wreckage of the chair — (a nice, Swedish chair that had done nothing in its short life to hurt anyone) — and looked back at The Professor. But she didn’t argue.

His tongue darted out, and he licked his lips. “Is this a game to you?

Hmmmm? Playing us off each other like something out of Prokofiev? He’s Peter; I’m the Wolf. What does that make you — the duck?”

Julia shook her head.

“What happened in my seminar today will never happen again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Professor.”

She clutched at the doorknob behind her. It was locked. “I’ll apologize to the class.”

“And expose us to even more gossip? You will do no such thing. Why wouldn’t you talk to me? One phone call. One meeting. I could have spoken to you through a door, for God’s sake. And instead, you finally choose to talk to me in the middle of my fucking graduate seminar!”

“You put a bra in my mailbox…I thought — ”

“Use your head!” he snapped. “If I’d mailed it to you, there would have been a paper trail. That would have been far more incriminating. And I wasn’t about to leave your iPod on your porch in the middle of a rainstorm.”

Julia was confused by his apparent non sequitur but decided not to question him.

“I started this clusterfuck by changing my lecture, but you finished it, Julianne, and you finished it with the equivalent of a hydrogen bomb.

You are not going to drop my class. Clear? You are not going to drop out of the program. And we’re going to pretend this debacle never happened and hope that the other students are too wrapped up in their own lives to notice anything.”

Gabriel fixed her with an impassive look. “Come.” He pointed to a space on the carpet.

She took a few steps forward.

“Have you returned the bursary?”

“Not yet. The chair of Italian Studies has swine flu.”

“But you’ve made an appointment?”

“Yes.”

“So you made an appointment with him, but you didn’t have the courtesy to send me a two word text message when I was desperate to know how you were,” he growled.

Julia blinked.

“You’re going to cancel that appointment.”

“But I don’t want the money, and…”

“You will cancel the appointment, you will take the money, and you will keep your mouth shut. You’ve made the mess; I have to clean it up.”

He glared at her darkly. “Understood?”

Julia held her breath and nodded rather reluctantly.

“The e-mail you sent me was disgraceful, a real slap in the face after all the messages I left you. Did you even listen to my voice mails? Or did you just delete them?”

“I listened to them.”

“You listened to them, but you didn’t believe them. And you sure as hell didn’t answer them. You used the word harassment in your e-mail to me. What the fuck did you hope to accomplish by that?”

“Um — I don’t know.”

Gabriel closed the gap between them, standing only inches from her.

“It’s quite possible that your e-mail has been red-flagged by someone already.

Even if I erase that e-mail, and I did, someone could still find it. E-mails are forever, Julianne. You are never going to e-mail me again. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“You seem to be the only person capable of pushing all of my buttons, and I do mean all of them.”

Julia glanced over at the door, wishing she could fling it open and escape.

“Look at me,” he breathed.

When she met his eyes he continued. “I’m going to have to do some damage control. I just handled Christa, and now I’m going to have to deal with Paul, thanks to you. Christa is a menace, but Paul was a good research assistant.”

Was a good research assistant?

“Please don’t fire Paul. It’s my fault he came to you. I’ll make sure he doesn’t say anything,” she pleaded.

“Is he who you want?” Gabriel’s tone grew glacial.

Julia fidgeted with her book bag.

“Answer me.”

“I tried.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing when I see you in his arms in front of the mailboxes. It doesn’t look like nothing when he knocks on my door, like a knight, ready to fight me to protect you. Why can’t you tell me what you want, Julianne? Or do you only answer to Rabbit?” Gabriel’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Julia’s eyes widened in surprise, but she said nothing. She didn’t know what to say.

“Fine. I give up.” He waved his hand contemptuously at the door.

“Paul can have you.”

It took a moment for Julia’s brain to tell her feet to walk toward the door, but eventually it did. She walked with lowered head and hunched shoulders, looking remarkably like a butterfly that had had its wings torn off. But she’d kept her spot in his class, and she hadn’t been expelled. Small consolation for some of the other losses she had just suffered.

Gabriel stood motionless as she fumbled with the door. A whimper escaped her lips as she struggled with the lock. He stepped behind her and reached an arm around her waist to unlock the door, brushing against her left hip. When she didn’t flinch, he leaned closer, bringing his lips to her ear.

“So all of this agony was for nothing?”

She could feel the heat of his body behind her. It radiated from his chest to her shoulder blades. The silk of his bow tie brushed against her hair, penetrating it, until it grazed across the surface of her neck, causing it to explode into goose-pimples.

“You exposed us to malicious gossip for nothing?”

“You were cruel.”

“So were you.”

“You hurt me.”

“And you hurt me. Is revenge everything you dreamed it might be?”

Gabriel continued whispering, his warm breath huffing across her cheek.

“You’ve transformed from a rabbit into a furious kitten. Well, you scratched me deeply today, my kitten. You drew blood with every word. Are you happy now? Now that you’ve humiliated me in front of my students by reciting all my secret sins? It was a true bonfire of the vanities, with you lighting the flame.”

He brought his lips even closer to her ear, and the air from his mouth caused her to shiver. “You’re a coward.”

“I am not a coward.”

“You’re the one who’s leaving.”

“You’re sending me to him.”

“Like hell I am! Do you do everything people tell you to do? Where’s my furious kitten now?”

“I’m just a student, Professor Emerson. You’re the one with all the power. You could — destroy me.”

“Bullshit. Is that what you think? That this is a power trip?” Gabriel pul ed her book bag from her tense and twisted fingers and cast it aside.

He spun her around and grasped her face, moving his hands to the curves of her cheeks. “You think I’d destroy you? After our history?”

“I’m not the one with the memory problem. You think I’m happy?

You think this is what I want? I’m miserable. To finally see you after all these years and to see you like this? I don’t even recognize you!”

“You never gave me a chance. How the hell would I know what you want, Julianne, when you won’t fucking talk to me? You tell me nothing!”

“Shouting at me won’t persuade me to talk to you!”

His mouth collided with hers, passionately but briefly, until he tore himself from her lips to whisper in her ear. “Talk to me.” His lower lip trailed temptingly along her earlobe.

She was silent as she felt the energy between them shift, like a serpent circling back on itself, swallowing itself whole, anger and passion feeding off one another.

“Tell me that you want me, or get out.”

When she didn’t answer, Gabriel slowly withdrew. She felt ill from the loss of contact and didn’t even think about the words as they tumbled impetuously from her lips. “I never wanted anyone else.”

He stared into her eyes before he initiated the kiss. Lips met tightly, warm breath against warm breath, mouths wet and slick. Gabriel’s right hand smoothed across Julia’s cheek and slowly past her ear, before moving to the nape of her neck. As his mouth engulfed hers, he began to rub his thumbs across the surface of her skin, coaxing her to relax. Their lips floated together, sliding and smoothing. After a moment or two, he tilted her head back slightly — a silent plea.

Open for me.

Julia wasn’t breathing. How could she when the sensation was so intense? The taste of peppermint, the scent of Aramis, the way his breath consumed her. When she didn’t respond to his plea, Gabriel’s tongue slowly emerged, hesitantly exploring her lower lip, before curving over it and coaxing it backward dexterously into his mouth. Julia inhaled sharply at the strange but intimate sensation.

He pulled her lip between his, tugging and teasing. It was all so new, yet strangely familiar. Lips, teeth, the gentle play of tongue. Passion remained, but anger gave way to a bracing electricity that burned and crackled around them, as Julia answered his invitation and opened to him.

Her jaw was tense. He could feel it. Gabriel slipped his left hand from her cheekbone to the curve of her jaw and began stroking, willing her to loosen. As she relaxed under his fingers, he grew bolder. The tip of his tongue rolled over her lower lip as he tugged on it with his mouth, and slowly his tongue touched hers. There were timid introductions as their tongues met first as friends, shy and soft, then as lovers, sensual and erotic, as the heat exploded in their mouths and the dance of the two became a tango of one.

It was better than Gabriel imagined — so much better than in his dreams or imagination. She was real. Beatrice was real. As he pressed his lips to hers and explored her mouth, he could say in those moments that she was his, body and soul. If only for those moments.

So sweet, thought Julia. So warm.

She tugged Gabriel closer, her tentative hands tangling in his hair, pulling him until she was sandwiched tightly between him and the door, her petite frame pressed up against his tall, muscular one. Gabriel moved his right hand to cup the back of her head, protecting it with his knuckles while he groaned loudly against her mouth.

He groaned because of me.

The groan was loud, feral, and erotic. Julia would remember that sound and the way it vibrated against her lips, echoing into her mouth, for the rest of her life. She felt the blood course through her, hot and thick, as her skin bloomed under his touch. She had never wanted anything more than to feel his arms around her and his lips against hers.

There was no Paul. No Christa. No university. Just them.

Gabriel’s lips enveloped her, owned her. A fire ignited inside as their bodies moved together, soft curves against unyielding steel. Julia inhaled frantically, but it wasn’t enough. Her head grew light.

Gabriel swore he could feel her heartbeat through his shirt they were so tightly bound together. His left hand trailed under the hem of her blouse to inch toward the bare skin of her lower back. He moaned again as his fingers spread across that valley, claiming it. He didn’t need to see it to know that it was beautiful and precious.

Until…Julia began to gasp, her breathing labored and uneven. Gabriel did not want to stop. He wanted to continue, to carry her to his desk and lay her back so they could finish what they started. He wanted to explore every inch of her and gaze deeply into her dark eyes as her body gave up its secrets. But prudence took hold, and he slowed his movements even as his body ached at the mere thought of separation.

He held her tightly, still protecting her head, and pressed three chaste kisses against her open mouth. He brushed his lips, angel-soft, all the way down her neck to where it met her shoulder. One more kiss under the ear, with a flick of his tongue, more of a promise than a farewell, and Gabriel stopped.

He slid his hands down her arms and brought them to rest on her hips. He traced intricate patterns with his thumbs, willing her to open her eyes. He swore he could hear their heartbeats, echoing a frantic but almost synchronous rhythm in the silence of his office. She did this to him. She bewitched him, blood and flesh. He gazed down at her in wonder and brushed his lips once more against her parted mouth. She did not respond.

Gabriel peered at her closely, slightly panicked.

“Julia? Darling? Are you all right?”

His heart halted as she collapsed in his arms.

She hadn’t fainted. Not really. She’d just been overcome by sensation and sense and lack of proper food. But she knew that he was holding her tightly in his arms. And she knew that he was whispering kindly in her ear.

Gabriel stroked her face with his fingertips. When this elicited no response, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Beatrice?”

Julia’s eyes popped open. “Why are you calling me that?”

“Because that’s your name,” he murmured, stroking her hair now. “Are you all right?”

She breathed in and out quite deeply. “I think so.”

He kissed her forehead again.

Julia suddenly remembered Gabriel’s fury and his strangely glowing blue eyes. “This is wrong. You’re my professor. I’m in so much trouble.”

She tried to wrest herself from his arms, but he would not let her go. She leaned against the door.

“What have I done?” She lifted a trembling hand to her forehead.

Gabriel frowned darkly and released her. “You disappoint me, Julianne. I’m not one to kiss and tell. I’m going to protect you, I promise.” He picked up her knapsack and put it over his shoulder, grabbing his briefcase in one hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist, drawing her to him. “Come with me.”

“Paul is waiting.”

“Fuck Paul.”

Julia’s eyelids fluttered.

“You’re nothing more than a pet to him.”

“I’m not a pet — I’m his friend. He’s my only friend in Toronto.”

“I’d like to be your friend,” Gabriel said, gazing down at her. “And I’m going to keep my little friend very close to make sure she doesn’t run away again.”

“This is — complicated. And dangerous.” Julia willed herself to forget the feeling of his lips on hers and to focus on their insurmountable problems.

But it was impossible, especially since the memory of the sounds he made while kissing her still echoed in her ears.

Groan.

“You didn’t seem to think that it was complicated and dangerous when you pranced around my apartment in my underwear. You didn’t think it was complicated when you left a breakfast tray in my refrigerator with something that could only be described as a love letter. Why is everything more complicated now that I’ve kissed you?”

“Because we’ve been — outed.”

Gabriel’s expression hardened. “No, we haven’t. Apart from the e-mail, the only public evidence is an argument, which is open to interpretation.

The burden of proof is on our antagonists. We’ll deny everything.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

“What’s our alternative? Besides, at the time of the seminar there was no relationship.”

He bent over to pick up a key ring from the floor. “Are these yours?”

She held out her hand. “Yes.”

“P as in Princeton? Or P as in Paul?” Gabriel mocked, as he dangled the keys in front of her.

Julia grabbed the keys out of his hand with a grimace and shoved them into the knapsack he was holding.

He smiled at her reaction. “Wait here while I check to see if Paul has his gun out, waiting to shoot the wolf to save the duck.”

He quickly peered into the empty hallway. “Hurry up. We’ll take the stairs.” He pulled Julia swiftly through the door and locked it behind them.

“Are you okay to walk? We can take the short cut through Victoria College and walk up Charles Street. Or I could call a cab,” he whispered, as he opened the door to the stairwell for her.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Home.”

She relaxed minutely.

“Home… with me,” he clarified, bringing his face closer to hers.

“I thought I pushed all of your buttons.”

Gabriel pulled his face back and straightened up to his full height.

“You do. All of them. But it’s six o’clock, and you’re fainting from hunger. There’s no way in hell I’m taking you somewhere public after what happened. And I can’t cook you a proper dinner at your place.”

“But you’re still angry. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I’m sure you’re angry with me too. But hopefully, we’ll get over it.

Right now, every time I look at you all I can think about is kissing you.”

Gabriel released her and began to lead her down the stairs.

“Paul could take me home.”

“I told you — fuck Paul. You’re my Beatrice. You belong with me. ”

“Gabriel, I’m not anyone’s Beatrice. The delusions have to stop.”

He placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “Neither of us has a monopoly on delusions. Our only hope is to take time to discover who we really are and decide if that’s a reality we both can live with.

“I’ve had enough vexation with you to last a lifetime, and I’m putting an end to it tonight. We’re going to sit down and have the conversation I wanted to have with you ten days ago. I’m not letting you out of my sight until that’s happened. End of discussion.”

With one look at the resolve on his face, Julia realized there was no point in arguing. As he led her through a side door and behind the building, she pulled out her cell phone and guiltily sent Paul a text. She told him she was okay, that she was too embarrassed to talk about it, and was already on her way home.

Paul had been hovering by the elevators, staying out of sight as he waited for Julia to come out. He’d walked by The Professor’s door once or twice but hadn’t heard anything. He didn’t want to antagonize Emerson by waiting outside his door.

As soon as he received her text, he immediately ran back to the office. He knocked on Emerson’s door, but no one answered. Paul ran to the stairwell and flew down the stairs hoping that he could catch her.

Gabriel followed Julia into his apartment. “Did you eat lunch?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Julianne! What about breakfast?”

“I had coffee…”

He swore under his breath. “You need to take better care of yourself.

No wonder you’re so pale. Come.”

He led her to the red velvet wing-back chair in the living room and made her sit down, gently lifting her feet and placing them on top of the ottoman.

“I don’t need to sit down over here. I could sit in the kitchen, with you.”

Gabriel glared at her mildly as he turned on the gas fireplace. He let his hand pass over her head, brushing back her hair.

“Kittens should be curled up in a chair by the fire on a day like today.

You’re safer here than on one of the bar stools. I’m going to make dinner, but I need to step out and pick up a few things. Wil you be al right by yourself?”

“Of course, Gabriel. I’m not an invalid.”

“If you feel scorched, flip the switch and the inferno will go out.”

He leaned over and pressed a kiss on top of her hair before walking to the front door. “Promise me you won’t leave before I come back,” he called.

“I promise.” Julia wondered if he was really that worried about losing her.

She thought back to what had happened in the lecture and the events in his office. She wondered if it was lack of food that made her light-headed, or Gabriel’s kiss. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he’d affected her this way…

Julia closed her eyes just for a moment as the dull roar of the fire hummed in her ears, and she fell fast asleep.

The sound of a woman’s voice, passionate and soulful, floated through the air. Julia recognized the song before she opened her eyes. Gabriel was playing Edith Piaf, Non, je ne regrette rien. It was an extraordinary choice.

Julia opened her eyes to find Gabriel smiling down on her, looking very much like a troubled angel — an angel with dark hair, a mouth made for sin, and piercing blue eyes. He’d changed into a black button down shirt and a pair of black trousers, his shirtsleeves pushed up to expose muscled forearms.

“Julianne?” He smiled and offered her his hand.

She took it, and he led her into the dining room. Gabriel had set his formal dining table with a white linen tablecloth and lit the candles in an ornate silver candelabra. She saw two place settings of china, crystal, and silver, and a bottle of what appeared to be champagne.

Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin vintage 2002, she read on the label.

“Are you pleased?” He stood behind her and rubbed her arms with his hands.

“It’s beautiful,” she managed, eyeing the expensive champagne with suspicion.

“Then allow me.” He pulled her chair out and handed her a white linen napkin. “I’ve tried a second time with the flowers. Please don’t destroy them like you did the last ones.”

Gabriel smiled wryly as he gestured to a tall, modern glass vase that held an arrangement of purple hyacinths.

“If you’re good, I’ll let you read the card,” he whispered, as he poured her a glass of champagne. Without waiting to watch her taste it, he disappeared into the kitchen.

With a quick look over her shoulder to be sure she wasn’t being watched, Julia removed the card that was nestled among the flowers. In it she read:

My Dear Julianne,

If you wish to know how I feel about you, just ask me.

Yours,

Gabriel

Smug bastard, Julia thought before she hastily replaced the card.

As she sat there, annoyed, a number of different things caught her attention. Gabriel had chosen Edith Piaf for mood music; she was now singing La Vie en Rose. The tablecloth, the place settings, the champagne, the flowers…he hadn’t gone to such trouble for Rachel.

All the arguing and passion in his office had lit their bodies on fire.

And the way he’d kissed her…Julia had never been kissed like that before, even by him. She shivered in remembrance, solely from pleasure. It was a new feeling, but not an unwelcome one.

Foreplay.

She knew that he’d struggled to stop kissing her, as if he were at war with himself. The tension between them had been palpable, almost concrete.

She knew that he was a very sexual man who was never in want of female companionship, by his own admission. Now that he had tasted her while sober, he wanted her. It was overwhelming to be desired by such a tempting, sensual creature. She felt like Psyche being desired by Cupid. And she could not deny the attraction she felt for him, or the way she fluttered with longing when he kissed her.

But Julia did not share, which made all other romantic or sexual considerations moot. She decided to wait until after the salad course to tell him that.

When Gabriel sat next to her at the head of the table, he picked up his water glass and toasted their evening. As they clinked their glasses together, Julia realized he wasn’t drinking champagne.

“No Veuve Clicquot?” she asked, sipping away incredulously.

He smiled at her and shook his head. “Non, seulement de l’eau ce soir.

Mon ange.”

Julia rolled her eyes at Gabriel’s French, but it wasn’t because his pronunciation was faulty.

“You will probably find this difficult to believe, but I don’t drink all the time. Nevertheless, I don’t expect you to finish this bottle by yourself.

We’ll save it for Mimosas for breakfast.”

Julia’s eyebrows shot up. Breakfast? You’re awfully sure of yourself, Casanova.

“I searched my collection for a vintage from 2003 but had to make due with 2002.”

It took a moment for Julia to realize the significance of the year, and when the realization hit her she blushed and looked down at her hands.

Gabriel watched her over his salad but said nothing. He’d hoped for a more vocal reaction, but he surmised rather quickly that she was overwhelmed by the tumult of the day.

She’s nervous; she’s quivering, and her face is flushed.

Gabriel reached over to stroke the skin at her wrist from time to time, just to reassure her. Whenever their eyes met he would stop whatever he was doing and smile at her encouragingly, hoping that she’d engage him in conversation. But she would only duck her head and look down at her plate — until the strains of a certain song filled their ears.

Besame, besame mucho…

Gabriel watched Julia carefully. When she reacted to the music, as well as turning a deeper shade of rose, he winked.

“Do you remember this song?”

“Yes.”

“How is your Spanish?” He gazed at her expectantly.

“Non-existent.”

“That’s a pity. The words are very beautiful.” He smiled at her somewhat sadly, and she looked away.

When Gabriel wasn’t singing, he was watching her, the movement of her eyes, the fidgeting of her hands, the blush of her skin. And when the song was over he smiled, stood up, and pressed a long kiss to the top of her head.

He cleared their dishes, topped up her champagne flute, and served their entrées, spaghetti con limone with capers and tiger shrimp. It was a rare treat and one of Julia’s favorites, so it surprised her that he made it.

Maybe Rachel had…

She shook her head. This was between her and Gabriel. Period. Except for the specter of Paulina, who was haunting them both…

“You aren’t the same man you were in the orchard,” Julia announced flatly, the champagne making her bold.

Gabriel rested his fork on his plate, his eyebrows knitting together.

“You’re right — I’m much better.”

Julia laughed bitterly. “Impossible! He was kind to me and very, very gentle. He would never have been as cold and indifferent as you have been.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His eyes flashed to hers.

“I’ve never lied to you. Why would I start now?”

A flush of anger started in her cheeks and spread across her face. “I won’t let your darkness consume me.”

Gabriel was puzzled by her sudden hostility and was sorely tempted to call her out on it. Surprisingly, however, he cocked his head to one side.

She watched as he wet his finger in Perrier and began running it around the rim of his water glass, smoothly and sensuously. Soon the crystal goblet was singing in their ears.

Suddenly, Gabriel stopped. “You think darkness can consume light?

That’s an interesting theory. Let’s see if it works.” He waved his hand at the candelabra. “There. I just threw some of my darkness at those candles. See how successful it was?”

He smirked and returned to his meal.

“You know what I’m talking about! Don’t be so damned condescending.”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened. “I have no wish to consume you, but I won’t lie and say that I’m not attracted to your luminosity. If I am the darkness, then you are the stars. In fact, I’m quite taken by la luce della tua umilitate.”

“I won’t let you fuck me.”

Now he sat back in his chair with a look of shock and disgust on his face. He silently resolved that she’d drunk her last glass of champagne.

“I’m sorry, did I ask you to?” His voice was smooth and unruffled, which made Julia even more upset.

Liar. Liar. Beautiful blue eyes on fire.

He grinned at her impertinently, watching her face over the rim of his glass. He wiped his lips with his napkin and brought his face inches from hers. “If I were to ask you to do anything, Miss Mitchell, it wouldn’t be that.” He smiled, sat back in his seat, and almost cheerfully finished his dinner without another word.

Julia seethed. She knew he was staring at her; she could feel his eyes on her face, her mouth, her shoulders, which were shaking. Nothing escaped those piercing blue eyes. She felt as if he could read her soul, and still he did not look away.

“Julianne,” he said at last. He moved his hand underneath the table to catch her wrist and pull it out of her lap, brushing the top of her thigh as he did so.

His voice was gentle and smooth, and Julia felt the warmth of his touch travel all the way to her toes.

“Look at me.”

She tried to withdraw her hand, but he held her fast.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

Julia slowly raised her eyes to his. They were softer and less ominous than his tone, but remarkably intense.

“I would never, ever, fuck you. Clear? One doesn’t fuck an angel.”

“Then what does someone like you do with an angel?” Her voice trembled slightly.

“Someone like me would cherish her. Try to get to know her and puzzle her out. Start by being…friends, perhaps.”

She squirmed under his grasp. “Friends with benefits?”

“Julianne…” Gabriel’s voice held a warning in it. He released her hand and stared at her momentarily. “Is it too much to believe that I want to know you? That I want to take my time?”

“Yes.”

He bit back a curse. “This is new for me, Julianne. Your prejudice is warranted to some degree, but don’t deliberately try my patience.”

“We both know that professors are never friends with their students.”

“We could be,” he whispered, gently pushing her hair back behind her shoulder and allowing his fingertips to graze the exposed curve of her neck. “If that’s what you want.”

She didn’t know how to react to this stunning utterance, so she angled away from him.

“I don’t seduce virgins, Julia. Your virtue is safe with me.” And with that, he cleared the dinner dishes and disappeared into the kitchen.

Julia finished her champagne in two quick swallows.

He’s a liar. If I hadn’t said no, he’d have flashed his signature smile and had me naked and spread-eagled before my panties even hit the floor. And he’d probably demand that we reproduce one of the poses from his black-and-white photographs. Then Paulina would call right in the middle of it.

Gabriel returned and hastily removed her glass and the bottle of champagne. A few minutes later, he brought her an espresso served with a small twist of lemon rind. Julia was surprised. It was difficult to imagine him zesting his own lemons, but nevertheless, there it was — perfect and fresh lemon rind.

“Thank you, Gabriel. Espresso Roma is my favorite.”

He looked at her smugly. “I thought it was time we switched you to something non-alcoholic before you threw up on me.”

Julia scowled. She felt fine. She felt slightly less inhibited but still in command of her faculties. She thought. “What did you write in the card?

The one you left on my porch?”

Gabriel stiffened. “So you didn’t read it?”

“I was upset.”

He shrugged. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you didn’t.” He turned on his heel and disappeared.

Julia sipped her espresso slowly, trying to guess what he’d written. It must have been something sufficiently intimate for him to be so out of sorts.

She wondered if the pieces of the card were still in the flowerbed in front of her building and if she would be able to piece them together.

A few minutes later, Gabriel returned with a single piece of chocolate cake and one fork. “Dessert?” He moved his chair so that he was sitting closer to her — too close, actually.

“Julianne,” his voice sang in her ear, “I know you’re partial to chocolate.

I bought this to please you.”

He held the fork under her nose, just so she could pick up the scent.

She licked her lips involuntarily. It smelled divine. She reached out to take the fork from him, but he snatched it out from underneath her hand. “No.

You need to let me feed you.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one. Trust me. Please.”

Julia turned her face and shook her head, resisting the urge to watch as he brought the fork up to his own mouth and darted his tongue out to catch some of the frosting.

“Mmmmmm. You know, the act of feeding someone is the ultimate act of care and affection…sharing yourself with someone else through food.” He held another mouthful of cake under her nose. “Think about it.

We are fed in the Eucharist, by our mothers when we are infants, by our parents as children, by friends at dinner parties, by a lover when we feast on one another’s bodies…and on occasion, on one another’s souls. Don’t you want me to feed you? You don’t want to feast on my body, but at least feast on my cake.”

Gabriel chuckled. When Julia didn’t answer, he turned his full attention to his dessert. She scowled. If he thought this disgusting display of food porn was going to get her attention and maybe make her a little hot and bothered until she was putty in his hands…

…he was right.

The sight of Gabriel eating chocolate cake was perhaps the most erotic thing she’d ever witnessed. He savored every morsel, licking his lips and laving his tongue suggestively across the fork after every bite. He closed his eyes and groaned from time to time, making feral, throaty noises that were achingly familiar. He moved slowly and sinuously toward the plate, the tendons in his arms clearly visible, extending forward and moving backward, his eyes burning into hers with every gentle and obvious rhythm.

Before he’d even come to the last bite, Julia felt the room begin to grow stiflingly warm. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing labored, and she felt little beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead. And lower down…

What is he doing to me? It feels just like….

“Last chance, Julia.” He made the fork dance before her eyes.

She tried to resist. She tried to turn away, but somehow when she opened her mouth to refuse, he slid the fork past her lips and into her mouth.

“Mmmmmm,” he hummed, smiling widely and showing all of his white, perfect teeth. “That’s my good little kitten.”

Julia blushed more deeply and ran her fingers across her lips, gathering up the last of the crumbs. He was right, the cake was delicious.

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it? See how nice it is to be cared for?” he whispered. “See how nice it is to be cared for…by me?”

She was beginning to wonder if she even had a chance at resisting seduction. All thoughts of what he said about her virtue miraculously flew out of her head.

Gabriel reached out and grasped her wrist, drawing her fingers to his mouth. “You left some chocolate behind,” he purred, looking up at her through his eyelashes. “May I?”

Julia inhaled sharply. She didn’t quite know what he was going to do, so she said nothing.

He grinned wickedly at her silent acquiescence before drawing her fingers into his mouth, one by one, sucking them slowly and swirling his tongue unhurriedly around the tips.

Julia bit her lip to suppress a moan as her skin exploded into flames.

Holy fuck, Gabriel. When he finished, she closed her eyes and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Gabriel regarded her silently for what seemed like an age. “You’re exhausted,” he announced suddenly, blowing the candles out. “Time for bed.”

She opened her eyes as he bent over her. “What about our conversation?”

“We’ve done enough talking for today. Our conversation is going to be a long one, and we should approach it when both of our heads are clear.”

“Please, Gabriel. Don’t do this.” Her voice grew low and desperate.

“One night. Spend the night with me, and if you want to leave tomorrow, I won’t stop you.”

He picked her up carefully and pulled her tightly to his chest.

Julia said nothing, the last of her self-control ebbing out of her. She was spent. He’d worn her down and her resistance was decimated. Perhaps it was the champagne. Perhaps it was the drama of the day and their explosive encounter in his office. No matter the explanation, she couldn’t resist him anymore. Her heart was already beating a fevered pace, her insides melting at the heat that floated across her body. And further down, near her womb, came the not so subtle fluttering of desire.

He will consume me, body and soul.

In her dreams, it was always Gabriel to whom she gave her virginity.

But not like this. Not with such hopelessness in the pit of her stomach and whatever illegible emotion that flashed in his eyes.

He carried her down the hall to his bedroom and tenderly placed her in the center of his large, medieval bed. He lit a few candles and placed them around the room, on the night stands, the dresser, and the credenza underneath the painting of Dante and Beatrice. Then he turned out all the lights and disappeared into the bathroom.

Julia took this opportunity to examine his black-and-white photographs. But they were gone. The walls were bare, with the exception of the Holiday reproduction and six hooks and bits of wire that testified to the previous presence of the now absent pictures.

Why did he remove them? And when?

Julia was glad they were gone. She was afraid of how they might look in the flickering candlelight, their images glowing raw and Satanic in the semi-darkness, depicting her soon to be sealed fate. Naked, nameless, faceless, soulless. She only hoped the most aggressive one, the sixth photo, would not be what he had in mind for her first time.

Is that what he would want? Is that what he would demand? Tearing her clothes off, shoving her onto her stomach, pushing into her from behind…not even looking into her eyes as he took her virginity, no kisses, no love-making, nothing but aggression and domination. Julia only knew of his sexual predilections from the photographs, and the fact that he’d described what he did to women as fucking.

Her breathing began to speed as panic washed over her. She heard an old voice in her head taunting her about fucking like animals.

Gabriel returned wearing a hunter green t-shirt and a pair of Black Watch tartan pajama bottoms. He deposited a glass of water on the nightstand next to one of the candles, pulled the covers back, and lifted Julia so that he could place her under the sheets.

She flinched, but he pretended not to notice and reclined on his side by her legs, drawing them close to his chest. He undid her sneakers and pulled off her socks,tenderly caressing the soles of her feet and her toes, making her moan in spite of herself.

“Relax, Julianne. Don’t fight it. This is supposed to be nice.” He murmured from time to time, more to himself than to her, and at one point Julia thought she heard him say la sua immagine. But she couldn’t be sure.

His voice was low, like a whisper or a prayer.

She silently wondered if he was referring to her or to Beatrice, and which debauched gods he was addressing. Just as silently, she begged them to aid in her escape, instead.

Please don’t let him consume me.

“I seem to recall that you liked my Magdalen College boxer shorts.

They’re in the top drawer, if you’d care to borrow them. They don’t fit me anymore.”

Julia sniffled. “Your pictures…the ones you used to have on the wall.

Is that what you want?”

Gabriel’s hands stilled against her feet. “What are you talking about?”

Her eyes darted nervously to where the sixth photograph had hung and back to Gabriel. His face morphed rapidly from surprise into horror.

“Of course not! What do you take me for?” His voice was a tragic, offended whisper. “You’re here, you’re tired. I don’t want to run the risk of losing you again before we talk.” He smiled minutely. “I want to make you a breakfast tray with parsley and orange sections, not take your virginity.

And certainly not like that.” He seemed disgusted. “I’m not a barbarian.”

When she didn’t respond, he slipped her feet under the covers. He tucked her in as if she were a child and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, smoothing her hair back from her face.

“Let’s try to forgive one another, shall we? We’ve both been hurt, and we’ve both wasted so many years. Let’s not waste any more time jumping to conclusions.”

He stood up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It’s quite possible you won’t want me tomorrow, anyway,” he muttered. Then he stood to attention and gave her a small smile. “Call me if you need anything.”

While Julia tossed and turned alone, she heard Gabriel playing the stereo, softly but fluidly. She didn’t recognize the music, but with the sounds of arpeggios imitating waterfalls she eventually fell into a light sleep.

Later that night, Gabriel was lying on his back in the guest bed, his arm crooked over his face. He was hovering in between wakefulness and dreaming when he felt a slight shift at his left. A warm body moved toward him, gently tugging at the covers.

The body crawled in beside him and molded itself to his side. He felt long, soft curls whisper across his now naked chest. He heard a small, contented sigh as an arm slid across the ridges of his abdominal muscles, eventually resting on top of them. Gabriel pressed a gentle kiss to the forehead that was placed above his tattoo and slid his arm around the shoulders and down to the lower back, hesitantly moving his fingers under the t-shirt until they came in contact with soft, smooth skin. And dimples just above the waistband of a pair of boxers that were far too large.

The warm body sighed again and pressed soft lips to the stubble at his neck. “I tried to stay away…” Julia’s voice was hesitant, “…but I couldn’t.”

“I tried not to lick chocolate off your fingers. But I couldn’t.” Gabriel’s voice was playful but there was a note of underlying sadness.

She hummed unconsciously at his remark. “Why did you remove the photographs in your bedroom?”

He squirmed in her arms. “Because I was ashamed.”

“You weren’t before.”

“That was before I decided to bring an angel to my bed.”

Lazy but curious hands caressed naked skin, exploring gently but chastely. Sighs commingled in the dark as two souls breathed as one. Two heartbeats synchronized when they recognized one another. And two troubled, conflicted minds finally came to rest.

Just as Gabriel was drifting off, he thought he heard her talking in her sleep; not words, just utterances that grew progressively more panicked, culminating in her breathless release of a name he’d not heard before.

“Simon.”