Gabriel's Inferno 01 - Gabriel's Inferno (21 page)

In either case, Julia was not going to allow the seduction to proceed. Not for one damn minute.

Hands off the Precious, Gollum.

She turned on her heel and walked back outside, coming up behind Ethan and whispering in his ear. “I need your help. He’s with a girl who he shouldn’t go home with. She’s one of his students, so I need to separate them before you put him in a cab.”

Ethan shrugged. “I’m not sure what I can do about that. That’s his business.”

“What if one of the waiters spilled a drink on her and sent her to the ladies’ room? Then maybe I could talk Gabriel into coming outside.”

“Do you think you can convince him?”

Julia blinked as she took a moment to consider it. “I don’t know. If we separate them, I’ll have a better chance. I doubt he can form a coherent thought with her plastic boobs in his face.”

O gods of all graduate-students-trying-really-hard-to-do-a-good-thing-for-an-old-friend, help me pry that Emerson whore off his dick. Please.

He laughed. “A bit cloak and dagger, don’t you think? But all right, I’m sure the bartender can help us out. He has a sense of humor. If Emerson gives you any trouble, ask the bartender to call me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Ethan made a call on his cell phone, and within two minutes, he was signaling to Julia to go after Gabriel. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked back into the club. Gabriel was laughing. Something had struck him as funny, and he was howling, head thrown back, hands clutching his stomach.

Julia had to admit that he was even more handsome when he was smiling. He was wearing a pale-green dress shirt with the top two buttons open, revealing chest hair that was poking out like a few blades of grass over the snowy white of his T-shirt. Mercifully, he’d gotten out of the fifties and lost the bow tie; the silk tie he was wearing was striped black on black and hanging loosely around his neck. He was wearing a pair of black dress pants that fit him snugly and very shiny black shoes that were far too pointy.

In short, he was drunk, but he was perfect.

“Professor?”

He stopped laughing and turned to Julia, a wide smile spreading across his face. He seemed very happy to see her.
Too
happy.

“Miss Mitchell! To what do I owe this unexpected delight?” He took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips, holding it there for several seconds.

Julia couldn’t help but frown. He didn’t seem drunk, but he was being friendly, flirtatious even, so he must be drunk.

(Or he must have received a personality transplant from someone charming like, say, Daniel Craig.)

“Could you help me flag a cab? I need to get home.” Julia withdrew her hand, wincing at the lameness of her excuse.

“Anything for you, Miss Mitchell. And I do mean
anything
. May I buy you a drink first?” He smiled as he peeled off a few bills and handed them to the bartender.

“Um, no. I have one.” She held out her smoothie and waved it under his nose.

The bartender glared at her garish Styrofoam cup but settled Gabriel’s tab and then went about his business.

“Why are you drinking that? Does it pair well with couscous?” Gabriel chuckled.

Julia bit her lip.

He stopped chuckling immediately and frowned, somewhat roughly tugging at her lip with his thumb until he’d loosened it from her teeth. “Stop that. I don’t want you to bleed.” He pulled his thumb back and brought his face closer to hers—too close, actually. “I made a joke about couscous.”

Julia was still trying to catch her breath after the flash of heat that she experienced having his thumb in between her lips.

“It wasn’t funny, was it? It’s rude to make fun of someone’s poverty. And you are a sweet little girl.”

Julia clenched her teeth, wondering just how much of his condescending attitude she could take before she decided to leave him (and his dick) in Christa’s clutches.

“Professor, I…”

“I was just talking to someone. You know her—she’s a real vixen.” Gabriel’s drunken gaze lazily swept the room before coming to rest again on Julia. “She’s gone now. I’m glad. She’s a nasty bitch.”

Julia nodded. And smiled.

“She looked at you as if you were trash, but I fixed her. She bothers you again, and I drop her as a student. You’ll be fine, now.”

He brought his face close to hers again and licked his red and perfect lips slowly,
very
slowly. “You shouldn’t be in a place like this. It’s past your bedtime, isn’t it? You should be asleep in your little purple bed, curled up like a kitten. A pretty little kitten with big brown eyes. I’d like to pet you.”

Julia’s eyebrows shot up.
Where the hell does he get this stuff?

“Um, I really need to go home. Now. Would you come outside and help me hail a cab? Please, Professor?” Julia gestured vaguely toward the exit, trying to place some distance between the two of them.

He grabbed his trench coat immediately. “I’m sorry. I left you to find your way home unescorted on Thursday. I won’t do that again. Let’s get you home, little kitten.”

He held out his arm in a very proper and old-fashioned way, and she took it, wondering who exactly was leading whom. When they got outside, Ethan was standing next to a cab, holding the rear passenger door open.

“Miss Mitchell,” Gabriel breathed, placing his hand at the small of her back, gently moving her toward the open door of the taxi.

“On second thought, I can walk,” she protested, trying to move out of the way.

But Gabriel was insistent and so was Ethan, probably because he was trying to get both of them out of there before Gabriel decided he didn’t want to leave and decked him. So for the sake of time and to avoid Christa, the Gollum who could reappear at any moment and try to snatch back the Precious, Julia crawled into the cab and slid over to the far side.

Gabriel climbed in after her. She held her nose slightly so she wouldn’t get an inhalant high from all the Scotch he’d imbibed. Ethan handed a few bills to the driver and closed the door behind them, waving at Julia as the cab sped away.

“Manulife Building,” said Gabriel to the cabbie.

Julia was just about to correct The Professor and give the cabbie her address when Gabriel interrupted her. “You didn’t come into
The Vestibule
for a drink.” He was looking at her clothes, his eyes resting somewhat hungrily on the flesh at her knees, exposed underneath her ripped jeans.

“Bad luck. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Hardly,” he breathed, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I would say you have extremely
good
luck. And now that I’ve seen you, so have I.”

She sighed. It was too late to ask the cabbie to turn around now; they were driving in the opposite direction. She was going to have to see to it that The Professor made it inside safely before she could walk home. She shook her head and took a long sip from her smoothie.

“Were you spying on me?” His eyes shifted to hers suspiciously. “For Rachel?”

“Of course not. I was on my way home from the library when I saw you through the window.”

“You saw me and decided to come and talk to me?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes,” Julia lied.

“Why?”

“I only know two people in Toronto, Professor. You’re one of them.”

“That’s a shame. I suppose Paul is the other one.”

Julia eyed him cautiously but said nothing.

“Angelfucker.”

She frowned. “Why do you keep calling him that?”

“Because that’s what he is, Miss Mitchell. Or rather, what he
hopes
he will become. Over my dead body. You tell him that—tell him he fucks with the angel at his peril.”

Julia arched an eyebrow at his eccentric and obviously medieval profanity and its attendant explanation. She’d seen him drunk before, of course, and knew that his drunkenness vacillated between moments of absolute clarity and complete lunacy.

How exactly does one fuck with an angel? Angels are immaterial, spiritual creatures. They don’t have genitalia. Gabriel, you are one sick Dante specialist.

They arrived shortly at his apartment building, and the two of them exited the cab. It wasn’t that far for Julia to walk home—only about four city blocks. And she didn’t have any cash to spare for a cab, anyway. So she smiled at Gabriel, bade him a good night, and patted herself on the back for doing Rachel a favor. Then she and her smoothie began the long solitary walk home.

“I’ve lost my keys,” he called after her, patting the pockets of his trousers and leaning precariously against a faux potted palm. “But I’ve found my glasses!” He held the black Prada frames aloft.

Julia closed her eyes and drew breath. She wanted to leave him there. She wanted to pass along the responsibility for his well being to some other Good Samaritan, preferably, a passing homeless person. But when she looked over at Gabriel’s confused face and saw him beginning to tilt to one side as if he was going to fall over and take the poor potted palm with him (a potted palm that had never harmed anyone), she knew that he needed her help. He was Grace’s little boy once, and she couldn’t just abandon him. And she knew deep within her heart that kindness, no matter how small, was never wasted.

He can’t even find his keys, for the love of Dante.
She deposited her half-empty smoothie in a garbage can with a sigh.

“Let’s go.” She placed an arm around his waist, flinching slightly as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze that was almost too friendly.

They listed into the lobby like a galleon, waving at the concierge, who recognized Gabriel and buzzed them into the building. Once they made it to the elevator, the Scotch seemed to hit Gabriel even harder. He stood with his eyes closed, his head lolling backward, and he groaned from time to time. Julia took the opportunity to search his pockets for his keys, which she found quickly and easily once she wrested his prized Burberry trench coat away from him.

“You picked me up, you naughty little kitty. I thought you didn’t go home with men you met in bars.”

Even while drunk, Professor Emerson was still an ass.

“I’m not
picking you up
, Professor.
I’m dropping you off
. And if you keep that up, I’m going to drop
you,”
Julia muttered in a fit of irritation.

It took several attempts for her to find the key to his apartment, and when she did, she helped him in and pulled the key out of the lock. Her goal was to leave him there, assuming he’d be fine on his own, but he started mumbling about feeling sick. She envisioned him choking on his own vomit and dying on a bathroom floor alone and friendless like a faded rock star, so she decided to stay long enough to get him to the bedroom and to see that he didn’t throw up (and die). She put his keys and his coat on the hall table. And she quickly took off her own coat and placed it on top of her briefcase.

Gabriel was leaning up against the wall with his eyes closed, which meant that he wasn’t going to notice that she was still wearing his sweater, like a teenage girl with a crush.

“Come on, Professor.” Julia pulled his arm around her shoulder and grabbed his waist again, trying to ease him down the hall.

“Where are you taking me?” He opened his eyes and looked around.

“To bed.”

Gabriel began to laugh. He planted his feet and leaned up against the wall, gazing down at her.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, Miss Mitchell,” he breathed, his voice suddenly husky. “You’re taking me to bed, but you haven’t even kissed me yet. Don’t you think we should
start
with kissing and maybe some canoodling on the couch for a couple of evenings?
Then
work up to bed? I haven’t even had a chance to pet you, you naughty little kitty. And you are a virgin, aren’t you?”

Julia bristled, especially at the last remark. “You’ve never canoodled a day in your life. And I’m not taking you to
bed
, you idiot, I’m taking you to your
bedroom
so you can sleep it off. Now come on. And cut the chitchat.”

“Kiss me, Julianne. Kiss me good night.” Gabriel’s eyes grew wide as he fixated on her. He dropped his voice to a satin whisper. “Then I’ll go to bed like a good little boy. And maybe, if you’re a very good kitten, I’ll let you join me.”

Julia caught her breath. He didn’t look drunk now. He looked remarkably lucid, and his eyes were caressing her, touching her, spending longer than was appropriate on the expanse of her chest. He began licking his lips.

Here comes the seductive smile…in five, four, three, two, one…swoon.
(It was a good thing that in her current mood she was swoon-proof.)

Julia let go of him instantly and backed up, averting her eyes, for in truth, looking into the radiance of
that
smile was like staring into the sun. He pushed off the wall and took a step toward her. Now she was trapped. Her back was against the other wall, and he was still coming closer.