Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno #1)(122)
Paul chose seats on one of the far corners of the table; for once again, he was conscious of the class system and knew that his place was not one of honor. While he discussed the menu with the waiter en Español, Julia silently mused about Gabriel’s jealousy and stealthily turned on her cell phone so that she could text him. But there was a text already waiting for her: Don’t come to dinner. Give Paul an excuse.
Wait for me at my place; the concierge will admit you.
I’ll explain later. Please do as I ask. — G
Julia staring at the screen blankly until Paul nudged her.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Um, it’s probably out of season for sangria, but I’d love some if they have it.”
“Our sangria is excellent,” said the waiter before leaving to place their drink orders with the bartender.
Julia gave Paul an apologetic look. “I have a text from Owen. I’m sorry to be rude.”
“No worries,” said Paul, busying himself with the menu while she quickly prepared a reply:
My phone was off. It’s too late, I’m already here.
You have nothing to be jealous of — I’m going home with you.
You’ll have me in your bed until morning. — J
She deposited her phone in her messenger bag, praying silently that Gabriel would not be too cross. Oh gods of all over-protective and jealous (fill in appropriate description of Gabriel and our relationship here), please don’t let him make a scene. Not in front of his colleagues.
Unfortunately for Julia and whoever was texting her, the messenger bag muffled the sound of an incoming message, which arrived shortly thereafter.
Within twenty minutes, the rest of the guests filtered in. Professor Leaming and some of the other professors were seated beside Paul. On the far end, Gabriel was sandwiched in between Professors Martin and Singer.
At the sight of Gabriel and his seatmates, Julia began sipping her sangria a little too eagerly, hoping she’d be able to get a refill to alleviate the tension that crackled in the air. The sangria was delicious and packed with lots of citrus fruit, which pleased her greatly.
“Are you cold?” Paul gestured to the purple pashmina that was wound around her neck in a very chic manner.
“Not really.” She slowly removed the scarf and placed it on top of her bag.
Paul politely averted his eyes as the delicate pale flesh of Julia’s neck and décolletage became visible. She was beautiful, and her body, although small, was blessed with generous br**sts that provided her with very handsome, proportional cle**age.
As soon as she removed her pashmina, a pair of jealous blue eyes darted across the table, hungrily taking in her newly exposed skin before making a hasty retreat.
“Paul, what’s up with Professor Singer?” Julia kept her voice low behind her wine glass.
He saw Singer sitting far too close to Emerson, and he watched as Emerson subtly moved his chair away from her. She moved her chair closer in response. But Julia missed the exchange.
“She and Emerson had an affair. Looks like they’re back at it.” Paul snickered. “I guess we discovered the reason for his good mood this week.”
Julia’s eyes widened, and she felt ill.
“So she was his — girlfriend?”
Paul moved his chair closer so that Professor Leaming couldn’t overhear their conversation. Of course, the fact that a flamenco dancer had appeared and was now dancing to the loud strains of a classical guitar made his task much easier.
“Just a minute.” He passed a tapas plate to Julia. “Try these. It’s chorizo and Manchego cheese, and crostini with Cabrales, a Spanish blue cheese.”
She helped herself, nibbling on the appetizers while she waited anxiously for an answer.
“Singer doesn’t have boyfriends. She’s into pain. And control. You know…” His voice trailed off suggestively.
Julia blinked in disbelief.
“Did you ever see Pulp Fiction?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t like Quentin Tarantino. He’s too dark.”
“Then let’s just say that she likes to get medieval…in her personal life…on people’s asses. And she isn’t shy about letting people know it. She researches that stuff and posts her publications online.”
Julia swallowed a piece of chorizo quickly. “So that means that he — ”
“Is a sick f**ker like she is. But he’s a hell of a researcher, as you saw this afternoon. I try not to think about what goes on in his personal life. I think that lovers should be gentle with one another. Not that love enters into what they’re doing.”
Paul surveyed the room cautiously before whispering in Julia’s ear. “I think if you care enough about someone to have sex with them, then you should care enough to respect them and not treat them as an object. You should be responsible and careful and never, ever hurt them. Even if they’re f**ked up enough to beg you to.”
Julia shivered and took a very large sip of her second sangria.
He leaned back in his chair. “I can’t relate to someone wanting pain at all, let alone during sex. Sex is supposed to be about pleasure and affection.
Do you think Dante would have tied Beatrice up and worked her over with a whip?”
Julia hesitated, then shook her head.