Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy) by Sylvain Reynard

glancing at Gabriel’s back. “But your ‘research’ can’t help you write a lecture. Unless you’re planning to tell us about all the professors you slept with in order to get into Harvard.”
    Gabriel swore and released Julia’s hand. He turned around, casting furious eyes in Christa’s direction.
    “That’s enough. You don’t speak to my wife. Do you understand?”
    “Temper, temper, Gabriel.” Christa’s dark eyes shone with perverse amusement.
    “It’s
Professor
Emerson,” he snapped.
    Julia blocked his path with her body.
    “Let’s go.” She placed a light hand on his chest, just under his bow tie.
    “Get out of my way.” He looked like a dragon preparing to breathe fire.
    “
For me
,” she begged, her expression pleading.
    Before Gabriel could open his mouth, an authoritative voice sounded at his elbow.
    “What is the meaning of this?”
    Katherine Picton stood to his right, her white hair short and impeccably styled, her gray-blue eyes flashing behind her glasses. She eyed Professor Pacciani with distaste before turning her attention to Christa.
    “Who are you?”
    Christa’s posture shifted from defensive to ingratiating. She extended her hand.
    “I’m Christa Peterson, from Columbia. We met at the University of Toronto.”
    Katherine ignored the proffered hand. “I’m familiar with the faculty at Columbia. You aren’t one of them.”
    Christa reddened, withdrawing her hand. “I’m a graduate student.”
    “Then don’t present yourself as anything else,” Katherine snapped. “You aren’t
from
Columbia. You
attend
Columbia. I repeat, why are you here?”
    When Christa didn’t respond, Professor Picton stepped closer, raising her voice.
    “Are you hard of hearing? I asked you a question. What are you doing at my conference, insulting my guests?”
    Christa almost faltered, feeling the energy in the room shift under Professor Picton’s antipathy. Even Professor Pacciani took a step back.
    “I’m here to attend your lecture, like everyone else.”
    Katherine straightened to her full five feet and looked up at the much taller and half-century younger graduate student.
    “Your name isn’t on the guest list. I certainly didn’t invite you.”
    “Professor Picton, excuse me. The young lady is a friend.” Professor Pacciani smoothly interceded. He bowed and moved to kiss Professor Picton’s hand, but she waved at him dismissively.
    “As a companion of yours, Giuseppe, her attendance might be excusable. But barely.” She glared at him. “You need to teach her some manners.”
    Katherine turned to address Christa directly.
    “I know the havoc you wreaked in Toronto. Your lies almost destroyed my department. You’ll follow the rules of decorum here, or I’ll have you removed. Do you understand?”
    Without waiting for a response, Katherine began scolding Pacciani in fluid Italian, pointing out in no uncertain terms that if his friend made her guests’ visit unpleasant in any way, she would hold him personally responsible.
    She added that she had a perfect and unforgiving memory.
    (It should be mentioned that she was correct.)
    “Capisce?”
She glared at him through her glasses.
    “
Certo
, Professor.” He bowed, his face drawn and angry.
    “I’m the injured party,” Christa protested. “When I was in Toronto, Gabriel—”
    “Codswallop,” Katherine spat. “I’m old, not senile. I recognize a woman scorned when I see one. And so should everyone else.” At this, Katherine directed her scathing expression to the men who had surrounded Christa, eager to give ear to her gossip.
    “What’s more, inviting yourself to an invitation-only event is unprofessional in the extreme. This isn’t a fraternity party.”
    Professor Picton looked around the room once more, pausing as if to challenge anyone to contradict her. Under her withering stare, the prurient onlookers began shuffling their feet and backing away.
    Seemingly satisfied, she turned her attention back to Miss