Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno #1)(127)

She was wearing a purple dress that was so vibrant it seemed to diminish all the other colors in the picture.

How did he get a photo of the two of us dancing at Lobby?

Rachel, she thought.

Julia quickly placed the picture back and exited the bedroom, being sure to leave everything exactly as she found it.

Chapter 21

While Julia waited at his apartment, Gabriel played the chameleon, blending into his environment. He was charming and gracious to his colleagues, but all the while, his insides churned and his mind raced. He had to force himself to eat and to decline libation upon libation. Gabriel was convinced that he would be returning to an empty apartment. Julianne was going to run.

It wasn’t surprising — he knew it would happen eventually. He just hadn’t thought it would be this secret that would separate them. He was unworthy of her for many reasons, reasons he’d hid like a coward. It wasn’t a question of love, for Gabriel did not believe that she could ever love him.

He was unlovable. Nonetheless, he’d hoped to be able to court her long enough for their affection and friendship to bind them together, even in the face of some of his darkness. Now it was too late.

When he finally arrived home, he was surprised to find her asleep on the sofa, her face a picture of perfect peace. He tried valiantly to be still, to resist the urge to touch, but he couldn’t. He reached out and softly stroked her long, silken hair, murmuring sad Italian words.

He needed music. At that moment, he felt the need for melody and lyric to soothe his agony. But the only song he could think of that would match this moment was Gary Jules’ cover of Mad World. And Gabriel didn’t want to be listening to that song when Julianne left him.

Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open. She saw that Gabriel was no longer wearing his suit jacket and tie and had released the top three buttons of his shirt. He’d also removed his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves.

He smiled but his expression was cautious. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine. I just dozed off.” She yawned and sat up slowly.

“You can go back to sleep.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Did you eat something?”

She shook her head.

“Will you eat something now? I could make you an omelet.”

“My stomach is in knots.”

He was irritated but refused to argue, for he knew a much bigger argument was on the horizon. “I have a present for you.”

“Gabriel, a present is the last thing I need right now.”

“I disagree. But it can wait.” He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, never taking his eyes off of her. “You’re wearing a scarf and sitting by a roaring fire, yet you’re so pale. Are you cold?”

“No.” Julia reached up to remove her pashmina, but Gabriel’s long, slender fingers caught her hand.

“May I?”

She withdrew her hand and nodded warily.

Gabriel moved closer, and Julia shut her eyes as his scent washed over her. He gently unwound the scarf from her neck with both hands and placed it on the sofa between them. Then he reached out to trail the knuckles of one hand down the column of her throat.

“You are so lovely,” he murmured. “No wonder all eyes were on you this evening.”

She tensed at his words, and he pulled back, stifling a groan.

Her eyes found her feet, and she realized that she’d been so distracted she hadn’t bothered to remove her boots. But he hadn’t complained.

“I’m sorry for putting my boots on your couch. I’ll take them off.” She fingered one of the zippers, but Gabriel moved quickly to kneel on the carpet.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes widened in confusion.

“I’ve been admiring your boots. Very much.” He lightly grazed her high heels with his hands.

“Rachel helped me choose them. She has great taste, but the heels are always too high.”

He regarded her seductively. “Your heels could never be too high.

But let me free you.” At the sound of his voice, husky and adoring, Julia’s heart skipped a beat.

His hands hovered over her knees, where the tops of the zippers rested.

“May I?”

She acquiesced and held her breath.

Reverently, he unzipped her boot and gently ran his fingers down her calf to her ankle, freeing her. He repeated this procedure on the other leg, placing the boots next to the sofa. Then he lifted her right foot and began to massage it lightly with both hands. Julia moaned in spite of herself and bit her lip sharply in embarrassment.

“It’s all right to voice your pleasure, Julianne,” he encouraged. “It reassures me that I don’t repulse you completely.”

“You don’t repulse me. But I don’t like seeing you on your knees,” she whispered.

His pleased expression faded. “When a man kneels before a woman, it’s a gesture of chivalry. When a woman kneels before a man, it’s unseemly.”

Julia moaned once again involuntarily. “How did you learn to do this?”

He gave her a puzzled look.

“How did you learn to massage feet?” she clarified, flushing more deeply.

He sighed. “A friend.”

Probably a black-and-white photograph friend, thought Julia.