Gabriel's Rapture (Gabriel's Inferno #2)(41)

He picked up the ultrasound picture in his hand and grimaced. Julia whispered a request to look at it, and he gave it to her with a sigh.

“This picture can’t hurt you. Even if Rachel and Scott found out, they would be sympathetic.” She traced a finger across the curve of the baby’s little head. “You could keep this somewhere private, but she shouldn’t be kept in a box. She had a name. She deserves to be remembered.”

Gabriel placed his head in his hands. “You don’t think it’s morbid?”

“I don’t think there’s anything morbid about babies. Maia was your daughter. Paulina meant this picture to hurt you, but really, it’s a gift. You should have this picture. You’re her father.”

Gabriel was too choked up to respond. To distract himself, he placed the rest of Paulina’s gifts by the door. He was returning them to her as soon as possible.

Julia followed him. “I look forward to wearing your Christmas gift.” She pointed toward the black corset and shoes that were still sitting in their box under the tree.

“You do?”

“I’ll have to give myself a pep talk first, but I think it’s feminine and very pretty. I love the shoes. Thank you.”

Gabriel’s shoulders relaxed. He wanted to ask her to try his gifts on. He wanted to see her in those shoes—perhaps perched atop the bathroom counter with him between her legs—but he kept his desires to himself.

“Um, I need to explain something.” Julia took his hand, weaving their fingers together. “I can’t wear it tonight.”

“I’m sure that after the past two days wearing something like that would be the last thing you’d want to do.” Gabriel stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “Especially with me.”

“It will be a little while before I can wear it.”

“I understand.” He began to extricate his fingers.

“I tried to explain this to you last night but, uh, I didn’t quite finish.”

He stilled.

“Um, I’m having my period.”

Gabriel’s mouth dropped open slightly. Then he closed it. He pulled her into his arms, embracing her warmly.

“That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.” Julia’s voice was muffled by his chest. “Maybe you didn’t hear me?”

“So last night—it wasn’t because you didn’t want me?”

She pulled back in surprise. “I’m still upset about what happened with Paulina, but of course I want you. You always make me feel special when we make love. Right now, I’m not going to go there. Or actually, have you go there. Uh, you know what I mean.” She grew flustered.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Gabriel kissed her forehead. “I have other plans for you.”

He led her by the hand to the spacious washroom, pausing to press play on the stereo. The strains of Sting’s “Until” began to fill the room as they disappeared through the door.

* * *

Paulina sat up, wide-awake in a strange bed in Toronto, covered in a cold sweat. No amount of repetition made the dream vary in its events or its terror. No amount of vodka or pills could remove the ache in her chest or the tears from her eyes.

She reached for the bottle by the bed, knocking the hotel’s alarm clock off the nightstand. A few shots and a few small, blue pills and she would fall asleep again, letting the darkness take her.

She could not be comforted. Other women could have a second child to assuage the loss of their first. But she would never bear a child. And the father of her lost baby no longer wanted her.

He was the only man she’d ever loved, and she’d loved him from afar and then she’d loved him close by, but he’d never loved her. Not really. But he was too noble to cast her off like the used piece of goods she was.

As she sobbed into her pillow, her head spinning, she mourned a double loss aloud—

Maia.

Gabriel…

Chapter 13

Professor Giuseppe Pacciani wasn’t virtuous, but he was clever. He didn’t believe Christa Peterson when she declared that she was willing to meet him for a sexual rendezvous. In order to ensure that their liaison actually happened, he withheld the name of Professor Emerson’s Canadian fidanzata on condition that Christa meet him in Madrid in February.

Christa was unwilling to wait that long or to sleep with him again in order to ferret out the information, so she didn’t respond to his last email. She decided to regroup and find an alternative way of discovering the name of Professor Emerson’s fiancée.

It could be said that she was jealous and that this was her primary reason for wondering who had successfully captured the Professor’s attention when she had failed (inexplicably). It could be said that she’d begun to nurse a suspicion about a certain doe-eyed brunette, ever since Professor Emerson had almost come to blows with that student over a mistress called Paulina.

But perhaps the most accurate explanation was her new and rather prurient fascination with the rumors she’d heard about Professor Singer and her not-so-secret lifestyle. When Professor Emerson embraced her after his lecture at the University of Toronto, it set a good number of tongues wagging. Christa’s tongue was among them.

Perhaps Giuseppe was wrong. Perhaps the Professor did not have a fidanzata after all. Perhaps he had a Mistress.