Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,158

sighing in pleasure as she rested her head on his chest, wrapping her arm around his waist.

“I’m sorry you’re lonely, Julianne.”

She appeared puzzled by his non sequitur.

“Earlier this week when we were talking on the phone, you mentioned that you feel isolated, that you don’t have any friends.”

She winced in remembrance.

“What if I were to buy you a kitten or a rabbit? Someone to keep you company at your apartment.”

“Gabriel, I appreciate the thought, but you can’t just throw money at my problems.”

“I know that. But I can spend money to try to make you smile.” He kissed her again.

“Kindness is worth more than all the money in the world.”

“You shall have that. And much, much more.”

“That’s all I want.”

“Stay for the weekend. Here. With me.”

She hesitated only for an instant. “Okay,” she whispered.

He seemed relieved. “How about a fish? They’re the new companion animal.”

She laughed. “I don’t think so. I can barely look after myself, let alone another poor creature.”

He lifted her chin so that they could see one another. “Then let me look after you,” he whispered, eyes intense and unblinking.

“You could have any woman you want, Gabriel.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I only want you.”

She rested her head against his chest and smiled.

“Being without you, Julianne, is like enduring an endless night without stars.”

Chapter 22

Two almost lovers were tangled around each other, their naked legs entwined in a large bed under an ice-blue silk duvet and white Frette sheets. The woman mumbled in her sleep, moving fitfully, while the man remained still, enjoying the pleasure of her company.

He could have lost her. Lying next to her, he was conscious of the fact that their evening could have ended very differently. She didn’t have to forgive him. She didn’t have to accept him. But she did. Perhaps he could dare to hope…

“Gabriel?”

He didn’t answer, for he thought she was still asleep. It was three o’clock in the morning, and the bedroom was shrouded in darkness, a darkness made visible by the lights of the city’s skyline diffused through the blinds.

She rolled over so that she could see his face. “Gabriel?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Yes. It’s all right, darling, go back to sleep.” He kissed her lightly and stroked her hair.

She propped herself up on one elbow. “I’m wide awake now.”

“So am I.”

“Can I—talk to you?”

He quickly mimicked her position. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

“Are you happier now than you were before?”

Gabriel looked at her for a moment and gently tapped her nose with his finger. “Why the deep question in the middle of the night?”

“You said you weren’t happy last year. I was wondering if you are happy now.”

“Happiness is something I know precious little about. You?”

Julia twisted the edge of the bed sheet in her hand. “I try to be happy. I try to focus on the little things and find pleasure in them. Your pie made me happy.”

“If I’d known the pie would make you happy, I would have given it to you sooner.”

“Why aren’t you happy now?”

“I bartered my birthright for a bowl of pottage.”

“You’re quoting scripture?” Julia was incredulous.

Gabriel bristled. “I’m not a pagan, Julianne. I was brought up Episcopalian. Richard and Grace were very devout. Didn’t you know that?”

She nodded. She’d forgotten.

His face took on a remarkably serious expression. “I still believe, even though I don’t live like it. I know that makes me a hypocrite.”

“All believers are hypocrites because none of us live up to our beliefs. I believe too, but I’m not very good. I only go to Mass when I’m sad, or at Christmas and Easter.” She reached her hand out to find his and clasped him tightly. “If you still believe, you must have hope. You must believe that happiness is possible for you too.”

He released her hand and rolled onto his back, gazing up at the ceiling. “I lost my soul, Julianne.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re looking at one of those precious few who have committed the sin unto death.”

“How?”

Gabriel sighed. “My name is the bitterest irony. I’m closer to a devil than an angel, and I’m beyond redemption because I’ve done unforgivable things.”

“You mean—with Professor Singer?”

He laughed bitterly. “Would that those were my only sins. But no, Julianne, I’ve done worse. Please just accept what I say.”

She inched closer. Her delicate features creased with worry, and her eyebrows knitted together. She took her time considering the words he had not said, while he trailed repentant fingers up and down her arm.

“I know that keeping secrets from you is