Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,485

to focus on the cigarette he held between his fingers. He couldn’t allow his mind to wander down that road. Not tonight.

He gazed at the skyline of Florence, at the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio, waiting until he was sure Julia was asleep.

He visited the bathroom, brushing his teeth and dropping his clothes to the floor. He showered quickly, knowing that she’d smell the smoke on his skin.

Naked and with damp hair, he slid between the sheets. He didn’t touch her. A quick glimpse of the bed in the lamplight revealed that she was wearing a nightgown and curled on her side, facing away from him.

Message received, sweetheart.

As he settled into bed he thought, perhaps, that he heard a murmur of distress emanating from her direction.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

When she didn’t respond, he switched off the light and turned his back to her.

It only took a moment for Julia to shift so she was spooning him from behind.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“We promised we wouldn’t go to bed angry anymore.”

“I’m not angry, Gabriel, I’m hurt.”

He reached back to grasp her wrist and pulled her arm so that it draped over his waist. “You’re right about Maria. I just wanted to do something.

“I don’t think you’re a bitch. I’d never think of you that way. You’re my beloved.”

“Then I need you to be kind to me. I have to tell you, Gabriel, this past little while has been really difficult. I don’t want our marriage to be like this.”

His body tightened.

“I’ll find a way to make it up to you. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to make it up to me. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Tell me now.” Her tone was harsh.

“Please, Julianne,” he whispered. “I’m asking you, please, to give me a little more time.”

“So you can come to some momentous decision without me?”

“I wouldn’t do anything without talking to you first. But haven’t you ever been worried about something and tried to figure out how to deal with it? You can’t exactly make those decisions for me.” He shook his head. “I’m asking you, Julianne, to have a little compassion.”

She searched his eyes and found nothing insincere in them.

“I can give you a little more time. But I want you to call Dr. Townsend.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted.

“I won’t accept your refusal. Either tell me what’s troubling you, or tell him. But for both our sakes, Gabriel, tell someone.”

With a deep exhalation, he nodded.

Gabriel was awake before sunrise and quit the suite before Julianne awoke. Though it pained him to leave the warmth of her embrace, he was on a mission. The sooner he gathered the information he needed, the closer he would be to a solution.

(Or so he hoped.)

That afternoon, he had an important meeting scheduled with his old friend, Dottore Vitali, the director of the Uffizi Gallery. Now Gabriel was more determined than ever to show his wife how much he loved her. And to do so publicly.

As he exited the hotel, he reflected on the fact that he preferred Florence in the morning—the quiet of the streets before the city shook off its slumber.

He stopped at the café at the Gucci Museum in Piazza della Signoria and bought an espresso and a sweet roll. He enjoyed his breakfast outside, along with his newspaper, La Nazione, biding his time until he could call for Elena at the orphanage.

At ten o’clock, he rang the doorbell. Elena was surprised to see him and even more surprised when he revealed the reason for his visit.

She thanked him for his concern for Maria and suggested that if he wanted to help, he could assist in covering the costs for the therapist she was seeing in an effort to help her recover her speech.

When Gabriel raised the subject of adoption, Elena quickly explained that adopting a child in Italy could be difficult. Only married couples were permitted to adopt, and they must have been married for at least three years. Even if he and Julianne had decided to adopt Maria, the Italian government wouldn’t let them.

Gabriel left the orphanage duly chastened, but not without making a substantial donation to cover Maria’s expenses. He made it clear that Elena was to contact him if any needs arose.

Lost in thought, he wandered to a café at Santa Croce. Instead of watching the beautiful women walk by, he made a few phone calls, prevailing upon Florence’s finer families to consider supporting the orphanage through foster care or adoption.

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