Sylvain Reynard - Gabriel’s Inferno

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that goes without saying.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he huffed.

“I would expect you not to sleep with anyone else, even while I’m still — deciding. As a demonstration of good faith.”

“Done.”

Julia laughed. “You say it as if it were easy! You’re willing to give up all of your female companions just like that in order to pursue the possibility of something with me? I don’t believe you.”

“I’m gaining more, much more than I am losing, believe me. And I intend to make you see that, over and over and over again.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Paulina…” she whispered.

Gabriel continued kissing her, moving down to where her neck curved into her shoulder. “Don’t worry about her.”

“I won’t share you with her.”

“You won’t have to.” He sounded impatient.

“Is Paulina your wife?”

He pulled back and fixed her with a stony look. “Of course not. What do you take me for?”

“Ex-wife?”

“Julianne, stop it. No, she is not my ex-wife. End of conversation.”

“I want to know about her.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“For reasons I’d rather not discuss. I told you I’m not sleeping with her, and I won’t. That should be enough for you.”

“What about m-a-i-a?”

His face grew harsh. “No.”

“I saw the tattoo on your chest, Gabriel. I saw the letters.”

He crossed his arms. “I can’t.”

“Then I can’t, either.” She reached down to pick up her knapsack and coat.

He stopped her. “Julianne, tell me who made you feel so insecure about yourself and your sexual abilities. Was it Simon?”

She cringed.

“Tell me.”

“Don’t say his name around me.”

“You said it. You said his name in your sleep. You sounded upset. Tell me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me sick,” she whispered, silently pleading with him to change the subject.

An insight, dark and disturbing, slowly took hold of Gabriel’s mind.

And once it took hold, he could not rid himself of it.

“Julianne, he didn’t…force you, did he?”

She hung her head. “No, Gabriel. I’m a virgin.”

He paused for a moment, exhaling slowly. “You would be a virgin even if he had forced you. You would be a virgin to me.”

His voice was so pained and so sincere, her heart almost snapped under the weight of it.

“That’s very noble of you. But I wasn’t raped.”

He closed his eyes for a second and sighed deeply. “We both have secrets we don’t want to tell. I won’t lie to you, but I can’t tell you everything.

Not today. And based on the look in your eyes, I know you’re keeping some very painful secrets from me. But I accept that. I’m not going to pressure you to talk about them.” He put his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him.

“So we’re going to keep secrets from each other?” She sounded puzzled.

“For now, yes.”

“There’s still the fact that I’m your student.”

He kissed her again to prevent her from saying anything further. “That’s another secret we’ll have to keep. But darling, I don’t want to have the rest of our conversation in this damned hallway. Please come back to the table and finish your breakfast. We can talk over coffee or we can just eat in silence. But please don’t leave. Please.”

Julia’s eyes darted toward the door. “I need to know how you feel about me, Gabriel,” she began uncertainly. “I need to know that this isn’t a game for you. Do you even like me at all? The real me?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “Of course I like you. And I would like to win your affection. Where we go from there is up to you.”

She reached uncertain fingers to stroke his hair. He closed his eyes and relaxed into her touch, inhaling and exhaling deeply. When she was finished, he opened his eyes, and Julia saw hunger in them.

He smiled, and the hunger was replaced by something else.

Hope. The sight of hope on Gabriel’s face made her tears come.

“This isn’t how I imagined it,” she wept, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Finding you again is so different from what I dreamed. And you aren’t who I thought you were.”

“I know.” He wrapped himself around her and softly kissed her forehead.

“I had a crush on you when I was seventeen, Gabriel. My first real crush. And it wasn’t even you. I’ve wasted my whole life on a delusion.”

“I’m sorry I disappointed you. I wish I was the knight rather than the dragon. But I’m not.” He pulled back to stare deeply into her eyes. “Everything is up to you. You can rescue me or banish me with a single word.”

Julia pressed her face against his chest and wondered if she ever had a choice.

Paul, hi. Sorry. Didn’t hear doorbell. Broken? Emerson scolded me but won’t have to drop class. (phew) Have to find new advisor. Working on it. Chat later & thanks,

Julia

Paul stared in confusion at the text message he’d just received from Julia.

A broken doorbell? That seemed convenient. He didn’t know whether she was giving him the brush off because she was embarrassed about her altercation with Emerson or for some other reason. In either case, he didn’t have time to track her down and find out; Emerson had e-mailed him with a list of books that he wanted checked out of the library and delivered to his office before one o’clock.

Paul sent Julia a short reply saying he was glad she was all right and walked quickly from his apartment to Robarts Library, shaking his head.

* * *

Julia sat facing backward on the leather sofa, resting her chin on her folded arms. The view through Gabriel’s floor-to-ceiling windows was remarkable. From her position she could see much of downtown and part of Lake Ontario. The trees of the city had changed color and were now dappled in gold and yellow and brilliant orange and red. They reminded Julia of some of the Canadian landscapes Paul had taken her to see at the Art Gallery of Ontario.

She’d volunteered to help Gabriel clean up after breakfast, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He’d kissed her forehead and asked her to relax, as if relaxing was even an option. Gazing at the Toronto skyline enabled her to Sylvain Reynard

focus on something beautiful while she replayed her conversation with him over and over in her head, trying to match it with their previous encounters.

How had she been so blind? And why had the Clarks hidden Gabriel’s addiction from her? They’d always treated her as if she was a member of the family. But not even Rachel had ever breathed a word about it, unless one considered what she said recently about his darkness. Did the Clarks always speak in extended metaphors like metaphysical poets? Julia would have needed a literary criticism class in order to interpret their allusions.

Gabriel leaned up against the fireplace, staring at her. She appeared remarkably at home perched on his sofa, looking out his window like a cat.

But her tense shoulders telegraphed worry. He sat next to her, purposefully leaving a healthy gap between them. When she made no move to inch closer to him or even to look at him, he extended his hand.

“Please.” He smiled.

Julia took his hand reluctantly and found herself pulled to his side. He wrapped both arms around her and kissed her hair. “That’s better.”

She sighed and closed her eyes.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Gabriel felt her body relax. After all they’d discussed, he was surprised that she could relax with him. “When was the last time someone held you like this?” He began stroking her hair absentmindedly, when in reality he was anything but.

“Last night.”

He chuckled. “I seem to remember that. But before?”

“I don’t remember.” Julia’s tone was defensive, so he elected not to press her.

She’s probably starved for physical affection. Alcoholic mothers don’t have the wherewithal to look after their children. And that Simon character probably didn’t hold her — unless he was trying to take her clothes off.

The mere idea made him furious — that someone would treat her with so little care. He knew that something about their physical connection calmed her, as it did him. And that led him to believe that she had little experience with positive physical contact.

“Is this all right? Holding you like this?” he whispered against her hair.

“Yes.”

“Good.” And for effect, he traced the hairline around her face, brushing a wisp of hair back from her cheek. “So beautiful,” he whispered. “So lovely.”

They sat like that for some time until Julia decided to ask a question that she’d been wondering about. “The photo that you had over the bed, where the man is kissing the woman’s shoulder…where did you find it?”

Gabriel pressed his lips together. “I didn’t.”

“Then where — ”

“Does it matter?”

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. I saw it in the closet when I was looking for a sweater. It’s very beautiful.” She tried to move away from him, but he held her fast.

“Do you really think it’s beautiful?” His voice grew soft, and he lifted her chin so he could gaze into her eyes.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“And the others?”

“Not so much.”

Gabriel appeared smug. “I made them.”

“You made them?” She pulled back in surprise.

“Yes.”

“But they’re…”

“Erotic?”

“Yes.” He smiled wryly. “Is it difficult to believe that I could take a beautiful and erotic photograph, Miss Mitchell?”

“I didn’t know you were a photographer. And those aren’t regular photographs.”

“I’m not much of one, really. But they turned out nicely, I think. I have others.”

Julia’s jaw dropped. Others? “And the women?”

He shifted next to her.

“The women are, or rather were, friends of mine.”

“Models?”

“No.”

Julia crinkled her face in confusion until the answer finally dawned on her. And with eyebrows raised, she gave Gabriel a very surprised look.

He sighed and began rubbing his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure it was in poor taste to display them. And it was certainly in poor taste to subject you to them when they’re personal in that way. That’s why I felt it necessary to remove them before I brought you into my bedroom. But the photos were taken with their consent. In a few cases they begged, actually. You’ll notice that I’m in more than one of them too, so I was far from simply a prurient observer.”

She forgot her question about which photograph was of Paulina and drew back in complete and utter astonishment. “That’s you?”

“Yes.”

“The one I was asking you about, that’s you?”

His eyebrows knit together. “Don’t act so surprised. I thought you found me attractive.”

“But you’re naked in that photo.” Feeling very flustered, Julia began waving a hand furiously in front of her face, fanning her heated skin.

Gabriel laughed heartily and drew her closer. “I am naked in all those photos.” His voice oozed sex as he crooned in her ear. “That photo was my favorite too, even though in the end I didn’t like the woman very much.”

He smiled a slow, smoldering grin and kissed the top of her head. “I’d like to take your picture.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re beautiful, Julianne. A photo of you — of your smile or your profile or your elegant neck — would be far lovelier than any of the art I own, including Holiday’s painting.”

She shook her head.

“I’ll ask you again someday. Now, how about a reservation tonight at Scaramouche? It’s one of my favorite restaurants.”

“I don’t think dinner out is a good idea.” Julia was still trying to catch her breath.

“Why not?”

“Didn’t you say we shouldn’t be seen in public?”

Gabriel frowned. “But I know the owner. I can reserve the chef’s table where we’d be away from prying eyes. Unless you’d rather go to Harbour Sixty to see Antonio. He has been pestering me to bring you back.”

“Really?”

“Really. He told me all about the meal you shared with him and his family at the Italian-Canadian Club.”

“Antonio was very kind to me.”

Gabriel nodded and moved as if to kiss her, but she placed a hand on his chest.

“I can’t go to dinner with you tonight. I have a meeting with Katherine Picton tomorrow and I’m not ready for it.”