Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno #1)(97)

“That was, um, considerate of you. Thank you.”

His hand stilled against her cheek as his blue eyes pierced into hers, scorching her. “I am a good lover, Julianne, in all senses of the word.”

When he withdrew, she tried, almost in vain, to catch her breath. “Tel me why you disliked me so much.”

“I didn’t dislike you. I was distracted and short-tempered during the first seminar. You seemed familiar to me. I asked you a question so you’d show me your face. When you ignored me, I lost my temper. I’m not used to being ignored.”

She chewed her lip slightly.

“I realize that isn’t an excuse — I’m just offering an explanation. Simply looking at you elicited very strong feelings. I didn’t know where they were coming from, and I resented them. My resentment quickly spiraled into something vicious. But my rudeness to you was absolutely inexcus-able.” Gabriel reached over to free her lip from her teeth. “I was punished for it afterward. Scott telephoned to tell me Grace had died, and that she died whispering my name because I wasn’t there. He told me her deathbed distress was my fault…”

Julia took his hand in hers and without thinking, kissed it. “I’m so sorry.”

Now he brought his lips to hers and pressed them together tightly.

They remained still for a few moments until he began shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“I’m hungry,” she murmured, interpreting his signal.

“Shall I feed you?”

Julia nodded, growing a good deal too warm as she recalled how he had fed her the night before.

“Latté or espresso?” He turned to the espresso machine.

“Latté, please.”

She stood for a moment, watching him, before taking a closer look at the irises he’d purchased.

“Could you put those in water, please? There’s a crystal vase on top of the sideboard in the dining room. You can move the hyacinths from last night or leave them where they are.”

She walked over to the buffet, admiring its ebony beauty once again, and fetched the empty vase. “I heard your music last night. It was beautiful.”

“I find classical music soothing. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“You didn’t. Why did you choose irises?”

“Fleur-de-lis,”  he said simply, placing her latté, which he had poured into a bowl in the Parisian style, in front of her. “And I know your favorite color is purple.”

“They’re my favorite flower,” she remarked shyly, more to herself than to him.

“Mine too, probably because they symbolize Florence. But for you, I think the association has a deeper meaning.” He winked at her impertinently and began preparing breakfast.

Julia huffed slightly. She knew what he was referring to: the iris was a symbol of Mary in the Middle Ages and so it became associated with virginity. In giving her irises, Gabriel was saluting her purity. Which was a strange thing for a would-be lover to do, she had to admit.

Maybe he was serious about being friends, after all.

Taking the flowers and her coffee with her, she went to the dining room. She sat down and sipped her drink, trying to plan what to say to him.

He joined her shortly, bringing her breakfast and seating himself in the chair next to her at the head of the table.

“Buon appetito.”

Julia quickly concluded that she was eating better at Gabriel’s than she had ever eaten, outside of Italy. In front of her sat a plate of fresh fruit, pain au chocolat, and sliced baguette and cheese, most notably Brie, Mimolette, and Gorgonzola. He’d even decorated their plates with parsley and orange sections.

He held up his champagne flute and waited until she did the same.

“These are Bellinis, not Mimosas. I thought you’d prefer it.”

They clinked their glasses together, and Julia took a sip. It tastes like a sparkling peach, she thought. It was so much better than orange juice.

Although she wondered why he’d decided to drink again.

“You’re very good at this,” she said.

“Good at what?”

“Seductive food play. I’m sure your overnight guests don’t want to leave.”

Gabriel placed his fork down somewhat roughly on his plate and wiped his lips with his linen napkin. “I am not in the habit of entertaining overnight guests. And certainly never like this.” He glared at her. “I thought it would be obvious that you  are different — that I’m treating you differently.”

He shook his head. “Perhaps not.”

“You said we’d talk,” she injected, changing the subject.

“Yes.” He gazed at her for a moment. “I have some questions I would like to ask, and I have some things to say.”

“I didn’t agree to an inquisition.”

“This is hardly an inquisition. A few questions, primarily because when I first met you I was not entirely lucid. So forgive me if I wish to have a clearer idea of what actually happened.” Gabriel’s tone was slightly sarcastic.

She speared a strawberry with her fork and bolted it. Fine. Let him ask questions. I have a few to ask as well, and they won’t be pretty.

“Before we begin, I think we should agree to some ground rules. I’d like to speak to you about the past before we discuss the present or the future. Is that all right?”