Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno #1)(89)

“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 — f*ck 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.