from him, I can help.”
“That’s very kind, but the police caught him. He can’t reach me here.”
Paul’s shoulders softened. “I’m your friend, Rabbit. I care about you. Let me help you before something worse happens.”
She withdrew her hand. “I’m not a rabbit, and I don’t need your help.”
“I didn’t mean anything by the nickname.” Paul offered her a repentant look. “Why didn’t Owen come to your rescue? I would have beaten the burglar to a pulp.”
She began to tell him that Owen had, in fact, rescued her but swiftly thought better of it.
“He must not be a very good boyfriend if he allows you to be manhandled like that.”
“I was home alone. No one could have known that someone would break in and attack me. I’m not a damsel in distress, Paul, despite what you might think.” Her eyes flashed.
Paul gazed at her sharply. “I never said you were a damsel in distress. But that thing on your neck is not something a burglar would do. It’s a fucking mark. And you have to admit that you’ve been knocked around by a couple of people, even in the short time I’ve known you. Christa, Professor Pain, Emerson…”
“This was different.”
“You deserve better than to be someone’s punching bag.” His voice was soft and it made Julia shiver. “I’d never treat you like that.”
She looked into his kind, brown eyes and stood mutely, hoping Gabriel would not appear.
Paul thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat and shifted his weight back and forth. “I’m heading over to Yonge Street to meet some friends for dinner. Would you like to join me?”
“I’ve been out most of the day. I’m going home.”
He nodded. “I’m running late, or I’d walk you. Do you need money for a cab?”
“No, I’ve got it. Thanks.” She fidgeted with her gloves, adjusting the fingers. “You’re a good friend.”
“I’ll see you around.” He gave her a pained smile and began walking away.
Julia turned to look through the glass doors of the building, but couldn’t see Gabriel.
“Julia?” Paul called to her.
“Yes?”
“Be careful, okay?”
She nodded and waved, watching as he turned and walked away.
* * *
At two o’clock in the morning, Julia startled. She was in Gabriel’s bed, and his room was dark. But she was alone.
After Paul disappeared, Gabriel returned to her side. If he’d seen her exchange with Paul, he gave no sign of it, although he was somewhat quiet during their celebratory dinner. Later, when she was ready for bed, he’d kissed her on the forehead and said he’d join her soon. Hours later, he still hadn’t come to bed.
She tiptoed down the hall. The apartment was swathed in darkness. Only the light from underneath Gabriel’s study door was visible. She stood in the hallway, listening. When she finally heard a few clicks of the computer keys, she turned the doorknob and walked in.
To say that Gabriel was surprised would have been an understatement. His eyes swung to hers, narrowed and uneasy, from behind his glasses.
“What are you doing?” He stood up immediately, placing a large Oxford dictionary on top of the papers that were scattered across his desk.
“I—nothing.” She hesitated, looking down at her bare legs. She wiggled her toes on top of the Persian carpet.
He was at her side in an instant. “Is something wrong?”
“You didn’t come to bed. I was worried.”
Gabriel removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll come to bed soon. I just have a few things to do that can’t wait.”
Julia reached up to kiss his cheek before turning to go.
“Wait. Let me tuck you in.” He took her hand in his and led her down the dark hallway to their room.
Gone was the large medieval bed, the dark furniture, and ice blue silk fabrics from his bedroom. Gabriel had hired an interior designer to recreate the master bedroom he’d shared with Julia in Umbria. Now the walls were cream-colored, and a large canopy bed hung with gauzy curtains sat in the center of the room. Julia had approved of the transformation and the inspiration behind it. The room was no longer his, but theirs.
“Sweet dreams.” He pressed an almost parental kiss to her forehead before closing the bedroom door behind him.
Julia lay awake for some time, wondering what he was hiding. She wrestled with the question of whether or not she should strive to find out or simply trust him. Without a satisfactory resolution, she fell into a troubled sleep.
Chapter 16
Paul couldn’t sleep. Had he been a melodramatic sort of person he