Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno #1)(59)

But he only watched her somewhat warmly, which surprised her. “You are shy, it’s true,” he murmured. “But that’s certainly not a vice.” He cleared his throat. “I’m envious of your enthusiasm for Dante. I used to feel that way. But for me, it was a long time ago. Too long.” He smiled at her again and looked away.

Julia leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “Who is M. P.

Emerson?”

Startled blue eyes flew to hers, burning with laser-like intensity. “I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

His tone wasn’t harsh, but it was very, very cold, and Julia realized she’d touched upon a nerve so injured, so raw, it was still vibrating with pain. It took her a moment to collect herself, and before she had fully considered the prudence of her question, she spoke. “Are you trying to be my friend?

Is that what you were trying to communicate to me with the bursary?”

Gabriel frowned. “Did Rachel put you up to this?”

“No. Why?”

“She thinks we should be friends. But I’ll tell you what I told her — it’s impossible.”

Julia felt a lump grow in her throat, and she swallowed noisily. “Why?”

“We exist under the red flag of professionalism. Professors can’t be friends with their students. And even if we were just Julianne and Gabriel sharing a pizza, you shouldn’t want to be friends with me. I am a magnet for sin, and you are not.” He smiled sadly. “So you see, it’s hopeless. Abandon hope all ye who enter.”

“I don’t like to think of anything as hopeless,” she whispered to her silverware.

“Aristotle said that friendship is only possible between two virtuous people. Therefore, friendship between us is impossible.”

“No one is truly virtuous.”

“You are.” Gabriel’s blue eyes burned into hers with something akin to passion and admiration.

“Rachel said you were on the vip list at Lobby.” Julia changed the subject again swiftly, still not considering her words.

“That’s true.”

“She made a mystery of it. Why?”

Gabriel scowled. “Why do you think?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

He fixed her with his gaze and dropped his voice. “I go there regularly, hence the vip status. Although I haven’t been there much of late.”

“Why do you go? You don’t like to dance. Is it just to drink?” Julia looked around at the simple but comfortable interior of the Caffé. “Here is as good a place to drink as any. I think it’s much nicer here. It’s gemüt-lich —  cozy.” And there doesn’t appear to be a single Emerson whore in sight.

“No, Miss Mitchell, in general I do not go to The Vestibule  to drink.”

“Then why do you go?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He frowned. Then he shook his head. “Perhaps not to someone like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Someone like me?”

“It means that you don’t know what you’re asking me,” he spat, staring angrily. “Otherwise you wouldn’t make me say it! You want to know why I go there? I’ll tell you why I go there. I go there to find women to f**k, Miss Mitchell.” He was pissed now and glaring at her. “Happy now?” he growled.

Julia drew a deep breath and held it. When she could hold it no more she shook her head and exhaled. “No,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands. “Why would that make me happy? It makes me sick to my stomach, actually. Really, really sick. You have no idea.”

Gabriel sighed deeply and placed both hands at the back of his neck.

He wasn’t cross with her; he was cross with himself. And he felt ashamed.

Part of him wanted to repel her intentionally — to stand naked in front of her, hiding nothing — so that she would see him for what he really was, a dark, sinister creature exposed by her virtue. Then she would walk away.

Perhaps his subconscious was already trying to do that with these ridiculous, unprofessional outbursts. For he should never in a thousand years have said what he just said to a graduate student, especially a female graduate student, even if it was the truth. She was undoing him slowly, bit by bit, and he did not understand how.

Gabriel’s blue eyes found hers. And across his pale and handsome face, Julia read remorse.

“Forgive me. I know I’ve disgusted you.” He spoke very quietly. “But believe me when I tell you that that is a very good reaction for you to have.

You should be repulsed by me. Every time I’m near you, I corrupt  you.”

“I don’t feel corrupted.”

He gazed at her sadly. “Only because you don’t know what it means.

And by the time you realize it, it will be too late. Adam and Eve didn’t realize what they’d lost until they were thrown out of Paradise.”

“I know something about that,” Julia mumbled. “And I didn’t learn it by reading Milton.”

Just then Christopher brought their pizza, effectively ending their awkward exchange. Gabriel played the part of the host, serving Julia her salad and pizza first and taking great care to make sure that she received more shaved parmesan and croutons than he did. And it wasn’t because he didn’t like those items; he liked them both a great deal.