Natalie’s stomach rebelled. She heaved over the wastepaper basket, emptying herself of that morning’s breakfast. Shakily, she wiped her mouth and stumbled to the bathroom.
She drank a cup of water as her mind worked. She’d just lost everything. She’d heard the rumors, of course. But she also knew that Simon was only with Senator Hudson’s daughter for political reasons. Or so he’d said the last time he’d been in her bed, at the end of August.
She’d done what he told her to do. She’d worked for his father and kept her mouth shut. She’d emailed or called Simon on occasion, but his responses had become fewer and fewer until they ceased altogether, sometime in November.
He’d been playing her. He’d been playing her for years. Always panting after someone else while satisfying himself with her body.
And she’d done things for him. Things she hadn’t wanted to do, such as various sexual acts and pretending not to care while he f**ked other women.
She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as a terrible idea took hold.
She had nothing to lose, but everything to gain. He had everything to lose and God damn it, she’d see that he lost it.
She put the water glass aside and wiped her mouth, darting into the bedroom on surer feet. She crouched on the floor and pried aside one of the floorboards underneath her bed. She withdrew a flash drive and carefully put it in her jacket pocket. Then she replaced the floorboard.
Grabbing her coat and purse, she headed to the door. As she hailed a taxi, she didn’t notice the dark car parked across the street. So she didn’t realize that it pulled into traffic behind the cab, following at a safe distance.
Chapter Fifty-nine
Gabriel, are you getting my messages? This is the third time I’ve called and gotten your voice mail.
“I left you a message this morning about the train engine. There are letters scratched into the bottom of it and they say ‘O.S.’ I don’t know what that means, do you? And how did you know to look for them? I never noticed them before.
“I’m sorry you have to extend your trip but I understand. I hope that your meeting with your aunt goes well.
“I’m at the library working on my last seminar paper. You know we’re not allowed to talk on the phone here. Text me and I’ll step outside and call you back. I love you. And I miss you.”
Julia groaned as she ended the call. Gabriel’s messages had been melancholy and sad, and growing more so. Somehow, between all his errands and her attempts at completing and submitting her lecture for publication, they’d missed one another. She worried about him.
At least if she could complete her final seminar paper, she’d be finished for the semester. Then she and Gabriel could begin their Christmas holidays.
She began typing on her laptop in earnest.
“What do you think of Giuseppe Pacciani of Florence?” Lucia Barini, chair of the Department of Italian at Columbia University, gazed at Gabriel over her desk.
He snorted. “Not much. He’s published a few things in addition to his book, but nothing of consequence, in my opinion. Why do you ask?”
“We’re conducting a search to replace one of our retiring professors and he’s on our long list.”
Gabriel lifted his eyebrows. “Oh, really?”
“However, a graduate student has made serious allegations against him, dating all the way back to when she was his student in Florence. You know her—Christa Peterson.”
Gabriel grimaced. “Yes, I know her.”
“I heard the rumors about what happened in Toronto. I also heard that Christa started those rumors and that she’s one of the reasons why you and Julianne are no longer there.”
“Julianne was admitted to Harvard. We were getting married. I was eager to leave Toronto.” Gabriel’s affect was decidedly flat.
Lucia gave him a friendly smile. “Of course. I only realized what a problem Christa had been after Jeremy Martin persuaded me to take her. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been inclined to admit her. We receive a lot of applications and can afford to be choosy.”
Gabriel simply sat, immobile like a statue.
Lucia removed her glasses. “It’s come to my attention that Christa is a troublemaker and that she takes her troublemaking tendencies wherever she goes. She had trouble with Pacciani in Florence, she had trouble in Toronto, and apparently, she had trouble with Katherine Picton in Oxford this summer. Katherine telephoned to tell me to start teaching etiquette to our graduate students since it’s obvious they don’t know how to behave in public.” Lucia’s tone was absent any amusement. “I don’t like receiving calls like that from anyone, especially from her. This semester, my faculty informed me that no one wants to serve on Christa’s examination committee. They’re worried about being slandered for harassment.”