“Pasta?” Julia suggested, getting to her feet.
“An excellent suggestion. You can relax by the fire, darling. Leave the cooking to us.”
“Oh no.” Julia grinned. “This I want to see.”
She followed Gabriel and Clare into the kitchen as the strains of Pavarotti performing Puccini’s “Nessun dorma” emanated from the stereo system.
* * *
After attending Mass with his family the following morning, Gabriel closeted himself in his home office in order to make a phone call.
“Cassirer.” The lightly accented voice answered Gabriel’s call.
“Nicholas, it’s Gabriel Emerson calling from America. How are you?”
“Gabriel, good to hear from you. I’m well, thank you.”
“And your parents? How are they?”
Nicholas paused. “They are managing. They spend most of their time abroad.”
“I’m so sorry.” Gabriel’s voice was sympathetic.
“How is your family?”
“Julianne is well. Our daughter was born in September. We named her Clare.”
“Congratulations. That’s excellent news. I’ll pass it on to my parents.”
“Please do.” Gabriel cleared this throat. “I’m afraid my family is why I’m calling you.”
Gabriel quickly explained the background of his interactions with Simon Talbot and his latest move to Zurich. “I need the name of someone trustworthy I can hire for surveillance.”
“Surveillance?” Nicholas repeated casually—all too casually.
“Just someone to keep tabs. I’m hoping he’ll lose interest in us with this recent move. But I want to be sure.”
“Let me make a few calls.”
“Thank you. Money isn’t a concern and I’d be happy to reimburse you for the introduction.”
“That isn’t necessary. Do you need someone in America, as well?”
“I’m covered, but thank you. If there’s anything I can do in return, please let me know.”
“Not at all. This is for your family, with my compliments. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you.” Gabriel disconnected the call and placed his phone on his desk.
On paper, Nicholas Cassirer was a wealthy Swiss businessman who was an avid art collector and a generous philanthropist. Gabriel had no reason to suspect the man of having ties to the underworld, apart from his ubiquitous black suits.
But Gabriel was not naïve. The Cassirers had sustained a robbery a number of years ago and the items had never been recovered. Nicholas had taken the theft very, very personally and his family had hired professional security that rivaled that of most heads of state.
Gabriel felt his neck. There was a chance he’d just incurred a debt he would later be called on to pay. But given the potential danger to his family, he was more than willing to pay the price, no matter how steep.
Chapter Forty-Three
December 12, 2012
Julia was awake.
She’d rolled over to face Gabriel a few minutes ago and he’d stretched out an arm and covered her waist. He was sound asleep, judging by his breathing. Funny how he reached for her instinctually, as if their souls were so in tune with one another, he could sense her presence even while sleeping.
She touched Gabriel’s face—the face of the man she loved. She traced his aristocratic cheekbones and the slight dimple of his chin. Her fingers caught on the stubble.
She kissed his cheek and brushed her mouth across his. He murmured a response, but didn’t move.
A wave of love and want washed over her. She wanted to drown in it.
She caressed his chest and floated her hand over his original tattoo and the new piece that was still healing. It was an image from one of Botticelli’s illustrations of Paradiso; Dante swoons at the base of Jacob’s ladder and Beatrice embraces him.
The tattoo artist who had marked Gabriel’s right pectoral with the image had been the same artist who gave him the dragon and heart. Woven into Botticelli’s image were the names Julianne and Clare, in an elegant minuscule script.
Julia’s hand hovered over the image. It had been a surprise. Gabriel had been inked two days after his shopping spree with Clare.
I need to have you immortalized on my skin. And under my skin. And over my heart, he’d whispered, when he bared the image to her eyes.
She reached over and kissed his chest, just over his heart.
Gabriel shifted, but didn’t awaken.
His body was a feast for her senses. So she explored him, her fingers dancing over his strong pectorals, his shoulders, his muscled arms.
She touched his ribs and dipped into his navel. Then she traced the ridges of his abdominal muscles. She reached the band of his underwear and stopped.
A sharp inhalation drew her attention.
Gabriel’s eyes were open, their stark blueness standing out against the dark hair that swept his brow.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Never apologize for touching me,” he rasped. “If my soul is yours, my body is also.”
He adjusted the pillow behind his head so he could see her better.
She sat back, carefully moving her ankle. “I need you.”
“Then take what you need.” Gabriel’s eager, curious look was encouraging.
Julia returned her hand to his body, caressing and touching him, before cupping him through his underwear. He made a strangled noise.
She removed the underwear, tugging it determinedly down his legs before dropping it to the floor. Then she knelt next to him and placed his hand at the hem of her nightgown. Hastily, he tore off her nightgown and panties.
Without words, she straddled his waist, adjusting her position so no weight was placed on her ankle. She brought his large hands to her breasts and leaned into his touch.
Gabriel passed his thumbs over her nipples.
She reacted by arching against him, curving her spine.
He thumbed her nipples and replaced them with his mouth, fastening his lips over a rosy bud. He licked her.
Julia reveled in his ministrations until her want could not be contained. She moved back and wrapped her hand around him.
He gasped against her breast and she stroked up and down, her pace slow but sure.
Gabriel was already aroused. She touched him to please him, as his lips found her other breast.