Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno #1)(90)

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.”