Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,493

had? On a scale of one to transcendent?”

“Earth-shattering and tie forgetting.”

Smugly, she reapplied her lipstick. “Don’t you forget it.”

Chapter Thirty-six

I love exhibition openings,” Julia murmured, as they rejoined the other guests. “They’re the best.”

“You never cease to amaze me.” Gabriel’s hand hovered at her lower back.

“I could say the same. I think you can see an outline of my body on the window upstairs.”

He chuckled, his hand sliding down to pat her bottom.

Someone cleared his throat behind them.

Julia and Gabriel turned to find Dottore Vitali standing a few feet away.

“Forgive me for interrupting, but would you be willing to speak to a potential donor?” He eyed the Professor hopefully.

Gabriel looked at Julia. “Vitali asked me earlier if I would try to persuade someone to part with a few paintings. But I can delay.”

“No, you go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Persuade the person to donate. I’m just going to wander around for a while.”

Gabriel kissed her cheek. Then he and his old friend joined a group of well-dressed men and women who were standing near the entrance to the exhibition.

Julia retraced her steps through the gallery, leisurely admiring the collection. She was standing in front of one of the more colorful illustrations of Dante and Virgil in Hell when an oily voice addressed her in English.

“Good evening.”

She whirled around and found herself face to face with Professor Pacciani.

Her eyes darted around the room, relieved to discover that they were not alone. Several couples were nearby, also admiring the art.

He held up his hands. “I have no wish to disturb your evening. All I require is a moment.”

Julia’s eyes flickered to his. “In a moment, my husband will return.”

“In a moment, my wife will return. I had better speak quickly.” He grinned, exposing his teeth. “I regret what happened in Oxford. If you will recall, I was not the one behaving badly.”

He stepped closer.

Julia took a step back.

“I remember. But I must be going.” She tried to walk around him, but he sidestepped her.

“Another moment, please. Professor Picton was unhappy with my friend’s behavior. So was I.”

Julia observed him incredulously.

“I told Christa to stay away from you. But as you know, she didn’t listen.”

“Thank you, Professor. If you’ll excuse me.”

He stood in front of her again, far too close.

Julia had no choice but to step back.

“Perhaps you could mention this to Professor Picton. I am applying for a job with Columbia University in New York. A former student of Katherine’s is the chair of that department. I wouldn’t want any—bad feelings to interfere.”

“I don’t think Katherine would interfere in another department’s search process.”

“I would consider it a favor. I’ve already done you a favor.”

Julia’s eyes flew to his. “And what would that be?”

“I prevented my friend from sleeping with your husband.”

Julia felt the world grind to a halt.

“What?” Her question was far too loud, and so the other attendees turned to stare in their direction.

Julia’s cheeks flamed.

“I’m sure you wish to express your gratitude.” He leaned closer.

“Are you kidding?”

“Your husband was going to meet Christa at her hotel. I persuaded her to turn her attention elsewhere. Favor done.”

“How dare you,” Julia hissed. She leaned forward at the waist and Pacciani took a surprised step back. “How dare you come to this place of beauty and say these ugly things to me.”

Pacciani’s face clouded in confusion, as if he were witnessing the impossible transformation of a kitten into a lion. He lifted his hands in surrender.

“I mean no harm.”

“Oh, yes you do.” Her voice grew louder. “You and your friend, or whatever she is to you, mean nothing but harm. I don’t care what she told you or what her plans were. You didn’t prevent my husband from doing anything. Do you hear me?”

Pacciani scowled, as he became conscious of the fact that all eyes were on them. Julia’s exclamation could be clearly heard by the other guests.

Then his angry expression morphed into a condescending smile.

“All men require a little—how do you say? Recreation. It is too much to expect one woman to be enough.” He shrugged his shoulders as if he were reciting a commonly known fact.

“Women are not items on a buffet. And my husband doesn’t share your misogyny.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I won’t be telling Professor Picton anything, other than that you accosted me with lies. Now go away and leave me alone.”

When he made no movement to comply with her instructions, she pointed an angry finger toward the door.

“Get out.” Her steely voice filled the room.

(It was, perhaps, not the