After he’d hung up the phone, he opened his laptop and pulled up the Google search engine. He typed the following search phrase: “Owen Davies.”
A few hours later, Julia was standing in the bathroom, applying makeup, while Gabriel stood at the sink next to her, shaving. As her fingers stroked over part of her throat, she found herself wincing. She could no longer see where Simon had bitten her. But every time she touched the spot, she felt his teeth.
A gentle hand caressed the back of her neck. “He won’t hurt you again.”
She met Gabriel’s eyes in the mirror. “I wish I could believe that. Somehow I suspect he and Natalie aren’t finished with me.”
“They wouldn’t dare.” He kissed her forehead.
“How can you be so sure?”
Something flickered across his features, but it was eclipsed by his smile.
“Trust me.”
“I heard from my dad today.” She traced the marble topped vanity with her finger.
“What did he say?”
“They want to get married Labor Day weekend. It will be a small wedding. Dad feels more comfortable with Diane at his place and Diane doesn’t want to move in with him without being married.”
“And the baby?”
“Nothing has changed. Diane seems to be doing well, and the baby is about as good as could be expected. They’re keeping an eye on both of them.” She shook her head. “Dad feels pretty helpless.”
“Of course he does. He wants to protect them and there’s nothing he can do.”
She nodded, looking down at the marble with a fascination unwarranted by its appearance. “I’m sorry about Maria.”
“So am I.” He leaned against the vanity, contemplating his bare feet. “But at least I tried to help her.”
“Maybe one of the families you contacted will change their mind. If they could just meet her, I’m sure they’d fall in love with her.”
He nodded, wriggling his toes.
“I won’t say that I understand, Gabriel, because I don’t. I wasn’t adopted and so I don’t share that special affinity you have with the children at the orphanage. But if you could just give me until my fourth year, I—”
“We’ll have plenty of time to talk about that. There’s no rush.” He smiled at her gently.
A feeling of relief mixed with dread washed over her.
Gabriel returned to his shaving, while she watched with rapt fascination.
“This reminds me of our first trip to Florence. We were getting ready together before going to the Uffizi.” She seemed wistful. “I was just your girlfriend, then.”
Gabriel stopped.
“You were never just my girlfriend, Julianne. You were my lover. And we’re still lovers.”
“How could I forget?” She gestured in the direction of the bedroom, pausing for a moment to remember their first time together. “I was so happy here.
“But tonight I’m going to accompany you to the Uffizi as your wife. We get to open the exhibition of your illustrations together.”
“They’re our illustrations. And I love you even more now than I did before. I didn’t think it was possible.”
“I love you more, too.” She peered down at her toes, admiring the way the red nail polish shimmered in the light. “I think your love has healed me, in many ways.”
Gabriel placed his razor on the counter.
“I don’t know why you persist in being sweet when I’m shaving.” He tried not to get shaving cream on her silk robe, but failed. “We’re going to have to have sex now.”
She laughed. “We can’t. We’re due at the Uffizi at seven. The guests of honor can’t be late.”
“It wouldn’t do for one of the guests of honor to be cross all evening because he’s hard and wanting. We had a fight. We made up. You owe me makeup sex.”
Julia reached out a hand to test his arousal.
“I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, Professor. But I really need to get ready. Look at my hair.”
He pulled back to see the dark strands, which were now streaked with shaving cream on one side.
“Fine,” he huffed. “But don’t be surprised if I spirit you off to a corridor and have my way with you.”
“I’m counting on it, Superman.” She nipped his ear with her teeth before escaping his arms. “And just for the record, I like my body when it’s with yours, as well.”
A short while later, Julia exited the washroom, walking over to where Gabriel was seated in the living area of their suite.
“What do you think?”
He stood up and removed his glasses, tossing aside the book he’d been reading.
He took her hand, spinning her in a circle. Her Valentino dress was very feminine, with a boat neckline, cap sleeves, a slim bodice, and a full skirt. The fabric was a rich red taffeta.
She pulled at the hemline, which sat above her knees. “I think I should have bought something black, instead.”
“No.” His eyes traveled from her exposed collarbones, across her br**sts and down to her long and shapely legs. “Red is perfect.”
He peered down at her black Prada peep-toe stilettos.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Mrs. Emerson. I don’t recall seeing those before.”
She arched an eyebrow at him.