Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno #3)(53)

“Hmmm.” He stroked the stubble on his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “A shotgun wedding for Tom, who is probably the only person I know who actually owns a shotgun. I’d label the situation as ironic, except I know better.” He winked.

Julia adjusted her sunglasses. “Yes, literature professors have an annoying habit of actually using words correctly. It takes all the fun out of a good neologism.”

Gabriel laughed.

“And that remark there”—he paused to kiss her mouth—“is precisely why I love you, Mrs. Emerson.”

“I thought you loved me for my br**sts.”

“I am equally partial to all of your assets.” He slid his hand down to the edge of her bikini bottom, giving it a playful tug.

“You are entirely too charming for your own good, Professor.”

“So I’m told. When’s the baby due?”

“End of December.”

“Are you upset?” He removed her hat and her sunglasses, so he could see her eyes.

“No, I’m in shock. My dad is having a baby. We didn’t light a candle for him in Assisi.”

“That’s probably a good thing, or God would have sent him twins.”

“God help us.”

“I’m sure it was a shock for your father. How’s he taking it?”

“He sounded excited. I get the impression they were surprised, but I didn’t want to ask too many questions.”

“That’s probably wise. At least I know what to buy him for Christmas.”

“What?”

Gabriel’s mouth widened into a slow, satisfied smile.

“Condoms.”

Julia rolled her eyes.

“So when are they getting married?”

Julia gestured between them. “That depends on us. They want us to be there, so as soon as we can get back.”

Gabriel frowned. “I’m not cutting short our vacation for their wedding.”

“Easy, tiger. They’re asking us to fly to Selinsgrove for a weekend when we get back. They want us to give them some dates and then they’ll talk to Diane’s family.”

“You’re going to be a big sister.”

A startled look passed over her features.

“I’m going to have a sibling,” she breathed. “I always wanted a brother or sister.”

“Big sister Julia,” said Gabriel. “With all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities. I always hated being an only child. I was glad when Scott and Rachel became my siblings. Even though Scott was a pest for most of his life.”

“I don’t know how this happened.”

Once again, Gabriel suppressed a grin. “I’m disappointed to hear you say that, Mrs. Emerson. Obviously, our nocturnal activities haven’t been—ah—memorable enough.”

Julia frowned. “You know what I meant. My dad is old.”

“He isn’t that old. Diane is even younger.”

“She’s forty. She told me.”

“A spring chicken.”

Julia looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Did you just say spring chicken?”

“I did. Your dad found himself an attractive young fiancée and now he’s about to be a father. Again.”

“My dad is going to be a father,” Julia repeated, a faraway expression in her eyes.

“I think you’re in shock.” Gabriel stood up. “Maybe I should get you a drink.”

“Rachel wants to have a baby, Dad is having a baby, and we . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence.

Gabriel leaned over her. “Look at it this way. There will be lots of older kids for our children to play with during Christmas and summer vacations. Eventually.”

“Christmas and summer vacations. All those kids. Holy shit.”

“Exactly.” Gabriel smiled. “Holy shit.”

Chapter Twenty-three

That same day, Christa Peterson strode into the Department of Italian at Columbia University a few minutes early for her appointment with Professor Lucia Barini, the chair. Christa had successfully escaped Professor Pacciani and returned to New York, nursing her wounds (both internal and external) and vowing her revenge.

When she thought about what had happened to her at the Malmaison Hotel in Oxford, she did not use the word rape. But she had, in fact, been raped. He’d forced her to have sex and used violence to subdue and overpower her. For various reasons, Christa chose to think of what happened to her as a loss of control. He took power away from her and used it against her. She was going to do the same to him. Only she was going to make sure he suffered more.

He’d sent an email offering a halfhearted apology. She’d ignored it.

In fact, she’d decided to dedicate her considerable energy to ruining him. She wrote a long letter to his wife (in Italian), detailing their affair from the early days when she was Pacciani’s student in Florence. She enclosed photographic evidence (some of which was  p**n ographic), along with copies of salacious emails. If that wasn’t enough to make his life difficult, she intended to bide her time until she could do something really damaging.

Which was why when she heard a rumor that Professor Pacciani intended to apply for a job in her very department, Christa made an appointment to speak with Professor Barini.