Lazily, his eyes alighted on the note that was propped up against the orange juice. He scanned the writing slowly, not quite understanding why Miss Mitchell would choose to address him in such a manner. He read the note again and again, his focus finally coming to rest on these words: Apparuit iam beatitudo vestra.
Now your blessedness appears.
Your Beatrice
He thrust the note aside in irritation. If it didn’t confirm their tryst, it was evidence of a crush. No wonder it had been so easy to charm her out of her virginity. Students were intrigued by figures of authority and developed inappropriate attachments to them. In Julianne’s case, she viewed him through the characters of her research, i.e., she was Beatrice to his Dante.
A simple but forbidden crush. A crush he’d indulged in a selfish, drunken haze. Now he’d lost his appetite. What will Rachel say when she finds out?
Cursing his own lack of self-control, he walked past the closed guestroom door on the way to his bedroom. Flashes of the previous evening danced before his eyes. He remembered kissing Julianne in his hallway and the feel of her skin beneath his hands. He remembered earnestly desiring her, the sweetness of her lips, her warm breath in his face, the way she trembled under his touch. Even though he couldn’t remember the act itself, or the pleasure of her nakedness, he remembered looking up into her face while he was lying in bed. He felt her hand against his cheek as she pleaded with him to walk toward the light. She had the face of an angel. A beautiful, brown-eyed angel.
She came to my rescue, and see how I treated her. I took her virginity, and I don’t even remember it. She deserved better. Much, much better.
He emitted the groan of a tortured soul as he pulled on a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt and hunted around for his glasses. Just as he was about to exit the bedroom, he stopped, his gaze inexplicably drawn to the oil painting on the front wall.
Beatrice.
He moved so that he was but inches from her lovely face, her white figure familiar and comforting. His brown-eyed angel. A glimpse of the impossible drifted before his eyes, but like a wisp of smoke it vanished. He was hungover and not thinking clearly.
Julia quietly unlocked the door and peered into the hall. It was empty.
She tiptoed toward the kitchen, shoved her feet into her sneakers, grabbed her things, and ran to the front door. Gabriel was waiting for her.
Scheisse.
“You can’t leave until I get some answers.”
Julia swallowed thickly. “Let me go. Or I’ll call the cops.”
“You call the cops, I’ll tell them you broke in here.”
“You tell them that, I’ll tell them that you kept me here against my will and that you hurt me.” She was speaking without thinking again, which wasn’t smart. And now she was threatening him with a falsehood. Anything they did together had been consensual and chaste and sweet — and absolutely, absolutely ruined. But Gabriel didn’t know that.
“Please, Julianne. Tell me I didn’t — ” His eyes grew large and round, and his face contorted in pain. “Please tell me I wasn’t…rough with you.”
Gabriel turned almost green in his revulsion and raised a shaking hand to his glasses. “How badly did I hurt you?”
Julia debated how long she should leave him on the proverbial hook but decided hastily to un-bait him. She closed her eyes and groaned. “You didn’t hurt me. Not physically, at least. You just wanted someone to put you to bed and keep you company. You begged me to stay, actually, but just as a friend. You were more of a gentleman to me last night than you were this morning, which is saying something. I think I like you better when you’re drunk.”
“Never think that, Julianne.” He shook his head at her and sighed.
“And I’m still drunk. I’m simply relieved that I wasn’t your first.”
She inhaled sharply, and Gabriel watched as a pained expression marred her lovely features.
“But your clothes…” He stared down at her chest, at her ni**les that were poking prettily from underneath his black t-shirt. He tried not to ogle her, but failed.
“Is this some kind of joke?” she snapped. “Do you honestly not remember?”
“I have gaps in my memory — when I drink sometimes I can’t tell…”
He began mumbling incoherently.
Julia reached the end of her patience. “You threw up on me. That’s why I was in your clothes. And for no other reason, believe me.”
A look of relief and pained acknowledgement passed across his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “And I apologize for insulting you. I didn’t mean what I said earlier, truly I didn’t. I was shocked to find you here and the way you were dressed, I thought that we…” He made a vague hand gesture.
“Bullshit.”
Gabriel glared, forcing himself to keep his temper. “If anyone connected with the university found out that you stayed here, I could be in a lot of trouble. We both could.”
“I won’t tell anyone, Gabriel. I’m not stupid, despite what you think of me.”
He frowned. “I know you aren’t stupid. But if Paul or Christa found out, then I…”
“Is that all you care about? Covering your own ass? Well, don’t worry, I covered it for you. I pried Christa off your dick last night before you had a chance to consummate your professor-student relationship. You should be thanking me!”
Gabriel’s face hardened, and he pressed his lips together. “Thank you, Miss Mitchell. But if someone sees you leaving here…”
Julia threw her hands up in frustration. He really was incredibly dense.
“If anyone sees me, I’ll say I was on my knees for your next door neighbor, making money to buy couscous. I’m sure it’s believable.”
In a flash Gabriel’s hand was on her chin again, more forcefully this time. “Stop it. I warned you about saying things like that.”
Julia froze, but only for a second, before jerking out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed. She tried to move past him, praying he wasn’t going to retaliate by hitting her, but he put his hand on the doorknob and braced himself against the door.
“Damn it! Just stop. ” He raised his hand, hoping to still her.
Instinctively, she ducked and reeled backward. Gabriel saw her movement for what it was and instantly felt ill.
“Julianne, please.” He lowered his voice to the softest whisper and pleaded with his eyes. “I’m not going to hit you. I just want to talk to you.”
He placed a hand to his head and grimaced. “I’ve done terrible things when I wasn’t in my right mind. I was afraid I’d treated you badly last night.
I lashed out, but I’m only angry with myself.
“I think very highly of you. Very highly. How could I not? You are…
beautiful and innocent and sweet. I don’t like seeing you crawling on floors as if you were an animal or a f**king slave. Leave the bloody glass where it is — I don’t care. Do you remember the self-deprecating words you said to me when I took you home after The Vestibule? Those words have haunted me. So have mercy on me and stop denigrating yourself. I can’t take it.”
He cleared his throat, twice. “I don’t remember everything that happened with Miss Peterson, but I apologize. I was a fool, and you came to my rescue. Thank you. ”
He slowly adjusted his glasses. “What happened last night cannot happen again. I apologize for kissing you. I’m sure that was a disgusting experience, some slobbering drunk putting his mouth all over you. Forgive me.”
The air left Julia’s body in a loud gasp. Gabriel’s apology hurt. For from the sound of it, he didn’t remember the kiss the way she did. And that upset her, greatly.
“Oh, that,” she said coolly. “I’d forgotten all about it. It was nothing.”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows. For some reason, his expression darkened and he frowned. “Nothing? It was a good deal more than nothing.” He stared for a moment or two, wondering if he should bring up the note she left on his tray.
“You’re upset. I’m still drunk. Let’s end this before it escalates any further.” His voice was clipped and suddenly cold. “Good-bye, Miss Mitchell.”
He unlocked the door and held it open.
“Gabriel?” She paused once she entered the hallway, turning to look up at him.
“Yes?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“Proceed.” He sounded grim.
“Paulina cal ed last night, while you were — unavailable. And I answered the phone.”
He removed his glasses and began rubbing his eyes. “Shit. What did she say?”
“She called me a slut and told me to roll you over and hand you the phone. I said you were indisposed.”
“Did she say why she was calling?”
“No.”
“Did you tell her who you are? Your name?”
Julia shook her head.
“Thank God,” he muttered.
She frowned. She’d expected him to apologize for Paulina. But he didn’t. In fact, he seemed entirely unfazed by her behavior, as if he were more concerned about Julia upsetting her than the other way round.