Soraya nodded at the two men and escorted Julia out of the room.
Chapter 21
“That meeting was a confederacy of dunces,” announced Soraya, leaning against the banquette in the bar of the Windsor Arms Hotel.
Julia nodded, wondering if she was Ignatius Reilly, the protagonist of that book, or whether Gabriel was Ignatius and she was Myrna Minkoff.
The bartender delivered their martinis with a smile and a few dishes of tapas, “on the house.” He winked at Soraya, who was a regular, and returned to the bar.
She took a long sip of her drink and settled herself in her seat. “My advice is to file a harassment complaint against Christa Peterson, citing malicious intent, as soon as possible. There are provisions in the university’s academic policies that are supposed to protect students from fraudulent accusations.”
“I’m not sure I want to antagonize her.”
Soraya laughed darkly. “What more could she do to you? Boil your bunny?”
Julia cringed.
“Listen, a complaint against her would be a shot across the bow. We don’t have to follow through on it, but it would give her and the Dean something to think about. You told me that she accused Gabriel of sexual harassment. Don’t you want to strike back?”
“I want all of this to end. I don’t understand how she can file a complaint against me when my situation has nothing to do with her.”
“Based upon what we learned today, I think it’s pretty clear what she’s doing. She accused you of sleeping your way to the top, and she accused your boyfriend of trying to make the same arrangement with her. It’s clever, really, because she doesn’t need her complaints to be successful in order to take both of you out at the same time.”
Julia blanched. “What do you mean?”
“She’s forcing you into admitting that you had a relationship with your professor. Then the university can hit you and him with a fraternization charge. She’s either brilliant or she’s had some coaching.”
Julia traced a finger up and down the side of her martini glass, fighting the urge to be sick.
Soraya sipped her cocktail once more. “I need you to make a list of people the Dean might interview and anything they might say that would be damaging. The evidence he has is slight, but if you put it all together, it could be enough to convince a tribunal that Gabriel gifted you with favors because of your relationship.”
Julia began sawing on her lower lip with her teeth.
“Don’t worry, yet. Let’s focus on beating this complaint and worry about everything else later. The administration is very cautious when it comes to matters involving faculty members because of their union. The university will continue the investigation until they’re sure, and then they’ll pounce.
“In the meantime, let me file a complaint against this Christa Peterson character. From now on, you and Gabriel need to stay out of the public eye. David will be investigating both of you this week, and we should assume he’ll interview everyone who has come in contact with both of you.”
Julia shook her head, a wave of nausea crashing over her as she thought of other faculty and students from the department being asked to give testimony in front of the Dean.
“All right, Soraya. File the complaint. I don’t think it will accomplish anything other than to antagonize her, but you’re the lawyer.”
“Excellent.” Soraya smiled widely and downed the rest of her dirty martini.
* * *
Later that afternoon Julia was exiting the elevator on Gabriel’s floor. She passed his French Canadian neighbor as she walked down the long hallway, and they exchanged a brief but friendly nod. Then she let herself in with her key.
“Julianne? Is that you?”
“Yes. How was your meeting with the Chair?” She quickly removed her coat and boots and was ready to walk into the living room when Gabriel met her in the front hall.
“I want to hear about your meeting first.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “Are you all right? What happened?”
“They asked me a few questions and let me go.”
He let out an expletive and pulled her into his arms. “If anything ever happened to you…”
She returned his embrace, exhaling slowly against his dress shirt. “It was Christa Peterson.”
“What?” He pulled back so he could see her face.
“Christa accused me of exchanging sexual favors with you for academic benefits.”
“What?”
While Julia hurriedly described the nature of the complaint and David and Soraya’s exchanges, Gabriel’s expression grew darker and more dangerous. When she quoted David’s final words, he took a large step away from her.
He reared back and thrust his fist through the wall. Then, for good measure, he withdrew, dragging fragments of plaster and dust with him, before punching through the wall twice more in rapid succession.
Julia stood, open-mouthed, as Gabriel trembled before her, eyes closed and chest heaving. Part of her wanted to run, but she found herself rooted to the spot.
No matter how much she wanted to run at that moment, the sight of a few drops of blood dripping from his knuckles and onto the hardwood floor captured her attention.
“What have you done to yourself?” She looked up into his blazing eyes and pulled him toward the guest washroom. “Sit down.” Once he was situated, she examined his knuckles and found the skin had split in more than one place.
“You might need stitches,” she said. “I’m worried you’ve broken something.”
Gabriel opened and closed his hand several times, wordlessly demonstrating that his hand wasn’t broken.
“I think you should have an x-ray, just in case.”
His only response was to rub at his eyes with his uninjured hand and heave a deep, shuddering sigh.
She opened the medicine cabinet and removed a few first aid items. “I’ll try to clean this, but you should go to the hospital.”
“I’ll be fine.” His voice was tight.
Using tweezers, she removed the bits of plaster from his wounds and cleaned them with iodine. Gabriel barely flinched as she bathed his knuckles, and she noticed that he was shaking, possibly from residual anger.
“I’m sorry I upset you,” Julia whispered.
“I nearly brought a wall down, and you’re apologizing to me?”
“I should have told you when you were sitting down. Or after you’d had a drink.”
He shook his head. “Then I really would have knocked the wall down. I’m too angry to drink.”
Julia continued her first aid until the wound was completely clean. When she was finished, she ghosted her lips over his bandaged knuckles. “I’m so sorry.”
Gabriel caught her hand in his. “Stop it. I seem to remember another time in this washroom when I was the one playing doctor.”
“I was mortified. I wanted to make a good impression and then I smashed your crystal and sprayed your nice shirt with Chianti.”
“It was an accident. I had to work up the courage to put iodine on your cuts. I was afraid of hurting you. And that was before I…”
He closed his eyes and rubbed at them again. “What happened to you today is my fault. I should have protected you.”
“Gabriel,” Julia said, her voice a warning. She leaned over and took his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t. We knew the risks when we got involved. I don’t care what they do to me.” Her voice broke on the words, but she spoke them anyway. “I don’t care about Harvard or my PhD. I don’t want to lose you.”
A strange fire illuminated Gabriel’s eyes. “Not even Hell could keep me from you,” he whispered.
The lovers embraced desperately, drawing comfort from each other’s very skin.
“Are you going to tell me what happened with Professor Martin?”
Gabriel took Julia’s hand and led her into the master bathroom where he began drawing a bath. “You relax, I’ll talk.”
“I’m not in the mood for a bubble bath. I kind of feel like taking a crow bar to something.”
(Something appalling and poorly made. Like domestic beer.)
“That’s why you need a bubble bath. I have to preserve the walls of my apartment.”
Julia undressed and settled herself amongst the suds. He regarded her intensely—the way her long hair was pinned up haphazardly on top of her head, the gentle contours of her br**sts floating amidst the water like two white, pink tipped lilies, the way she bit at her lip until she realized he was staring at it.
“Do you remember the first time we bathed together?” she asked as she watched him settle his tall form on a low stool.
“I’m not likely to forget it.”
“You were worried I was hurting, and you carried me to the tub.” She smiled shyly. “That was one of the kindest things you’ve ever done for me.”
“Thank you.” He gave her a peck on a cheek. “But I can’t reminisce about happy things with you. I’m far too angry for that. I’d like to rip out David Aras’s tongue and strangle him with it.”
“What about Professor Martin?”
Gabriel paused, clearing his throat. “If Christa’s complaint had stood alone, he would have interviewed me, perhaps spoken to a few others around the department, and concluded that her charge was fabricated. Her complaint against you, however, complicates things.”