Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,173

was ever able to work up the courage to speak the words.

Her iPhone was a gift—of sorts. On Sunday morning, when Gabriel sheepishly held out the broken pieces of her old phone, she’d laughed, for which he’d been grateful. When he explained that he was so angry that Simon had upset her that he’d smashed her phone, she smiled. She graciously accepted his more sophisticated replacement as well as his patient tutelage in learning how to operate the damn thing.

He’d uploaded the photos Rachel took at Lobby, which pleased her greatly. And he helped her enter all her contacts and numbers, although he’d arched an eyebrow when she explained that he needed to enter the name “Dante Alighieri” in conjunction with his own number. He’d also stubbornly insisted on choosing his own ring tone.

Julia’s primary birthday gift was a series of digital copies of Gabriel’s Botticelli prints. He had them mounted in a special book with her name engraved in gold letters on the cover. Even though they were only copies, the collection was priceless. And he had handwritten a dedication on the flyleaf in his elegant script:

To my Darling Julianne,

Happy Birthday.

May each year be better than the last

and may you always have happiness.

With enduring affection,

Gabriel

She fingered his inscription, tracing the curls of the capital G. The illustrations were, without doubt, the finest gift she had ever received.

In addition, Gabriel had given her a small photo album of black-and-white pictures. In some of them, her identity was recognizable. In the rest, the subject was only a glimpse of a face, or a lock of hair against a long, white neck or a laughing girl with her eyes closed. She felt beautiful when Gabriel kissed her and when he touched her. But viewing these photographs made her feel as if Gabriel saw her beauty. He saw and captured it, recording it forever.

Some of the pictures were sexy, some were innocent, and some were sweet. None of them were embarrassing or the kind of photo that would humiliate her if they were sent to her father or posted on the internet. Her favorite was one in which she stood in profile while a hand with long white fingers held up her hair, a man’s face in shadow pressing his lips to the nape of her neck. She could have blown that photo up to poster size and tacked it to the wall over her bed, the Holiday painting be damned.

Take that, simple Simon.

***

“Why are you calling? Is something wrong? Did you do something to Julia? I swear to God, Gabriel, if you—”

Gabriel held his iPhone away from his ear as his sister expertly berated him. “I didn’t do anything to Julia,” he interrupted. “Her ex-boyfriend called her on Saturday, and she went to pieces. I’d like some answers.”

“Holy shit. Is she okay?”

“She was very upset. But she won’t tell me much.”

“Of course not. Why would she talk about it with her professor?”

Gabriel bristled. “We were discussing Thanksgiving and making plans for the trip when that motherfucker interrupted us.”

“A bit angry there, Gabriel. Why do you care?”

“Because that bastard, whoever he is, sweet talked her father into divulging her unlisted cell phone number so that he could harass her.”

“Shit,” said Rachel.

“Quite,” said Gabriel. “So before I bring her back to Selinsgrove, where he might possibly pay her a visit, I’d like to know who I’m dealing with.”

His sister was silent.

“Rachel? I’m waiting.”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to tell you. This is Julia’s past. You need to ask her.”

“I told you, she won’t talk about it.”

“Can you blame her? If you know that he’s a motherfucker, then you know why she doesn’t want to talk about him. She won’t even say his name out loud—she’s that skittish.” Rachel paused for a minute and took a deep breath. “Simon’s father is Senator John Talbot.”

Gabriel blinked in recognition. “And?”

“Julia met Simon when they were freshmen. He swept her off her feet in the beginning, but I got the impression that he could be difficult. She went to Florence her junior year, and when she came back, they broke up. I didn’t see her again until I came to visit you. Aaron hated Simon, so I didn’t spend a lot of time around them.”

Gabriel fumed. “You didn’t answer my question. What kind of difficulties are we talking about? Assault? Infidelity? Emotional abuse?”

“Honestly, I don’t know everything. I pieced together a few things from a conversation I had with Natalie, Julia’s old roommate. Simon was an