Julia inhaled shakily. If she were expelled, she wouldn’t be completing her MA. And that would mean that Harvard…

Gabriel fixed his gaze on her. “Would Paul do this?”

“No. He wants to help me, not hurt me.”

“Angelfucker,” Gabriel muttered.

“What about Christa?”

He shifted against the leather of the sofa. “It’s possible.”

Julia’s eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“You already know she’s a troublemaker.”

“What’s going on with Christa, Gabriel? Tell me.”

He stood up and began pacing in front of the fireplace. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Julia grabbed the Dean’s letter and walked to the front hall.

“Wait, what are you doing?” He jogged after her.

“I warned you not to lie to me. I guess I should have been more specific and told you not to be evasive, either.” She retrieved her coat from the hall closet, pulling it on hastily.

“Don’t leave.”

She looked up at him, eyes blazing. “Then tell me about Christa.”

He pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Fine.”

Gabriel helped her take off her coat and escorted her back to the living room. She refused to sit down, choosing rather to stand in front of the fire, arms crossed.

“Is Christa blackmailing you? Is that why you approved her thesis proposal?”

“Not exactly.”

“Spit it out, Gabriel.”

He turned away from her, looking out the window at the Toronto skyline. “Christa Peterson has accused me of sexual harassment.”

Chapter 19

Julia stared at Gabriel, wide-eyed. “What?”

“Christa filed a complaint with the sexual harassment officer, who referred the file to Jeremy. That’s why I have to meet him this week.”

Shakily, Julia lowered herself to sit in the red velvet chair. “When did you find out?”

A muscle jumped in Gabriel’s angular jaw. “He called me a few days ago.”

“A few days ago?” She clenched her teeth. “How long were you going to wait before you told me?”

“I didn’t want to ruin our trip to Belize. I was going to tell you when we got back. I swear.”

Julia glared at him angrily. “I thought we weren’t keeping secrets from each other.”

“It wasn’t a secret—I just wanted you to have a few days to relax before I gave you the bad news.” With a sigh, he turned to face her.

“Why would Christa accuse you of harassment? She’s been harassing you!”

“I don’t know the specifics of the allegations. I should have filed a complaint with the harassment officer, myself, but I didn’t want to draw unwanted attention.”

“What are we going to do?”

Gabriel stared determinedly into the fire. “I’m going to call my lawyer, and we’re going to see that both of these accusations are dealt with. Swiftly.”

Julia stood up and clasped her hands around his waist, burying her face in his sweater.

* * *

“What is it now, Emerson? I’m in bed with a hot young law clerk from a competing firm.” John Green answered his cell phone amidst the sounds of squealing and high-pitched giggles.

“Zip up your pants, John. This is going to take a while.”

The lawyer cursed before covering his cell phone with one hand. “Don’t go anywhere, sugar.” He addressed his female pelvic affiliate before scuttling off in his red bikini briefs to the washroom.

“I’m already on top of your harassment complaint, Emerson. You don’t need to pester me. I was about to have the best sex of my life.”

“I need to speak to you about something else.” Gabriel briefly summarized the contents of the Dean’s letter to Julia.

“I can’t help your girlfriend.”

Gabriel began to sputter and protest, but John ignored him.

“Listen, if they’re dragging you in for sexual harassment and your twink—ahem—girlfriend in for some kind of academic infraction, I’ll bet my Porsche that the two complaints are connected. Have you told her not to mention you during her conversation with the Dean?”

Gabriel gritted his teeth. “No.”

“Well, you should. You don’t want to be drawn into anything through her. You have enough to worry about.”

The Professor breathed in and out chillingly slowly.

“I’m not in the habit of cutting loose my friends, least of all Julianne. Is that clear? Or do I need to find myself another lawyer?”

“Fine. But she needs her own attorney. If these two matters are connected, it’s likely to raise a conflict of interest for me. And I think the university might become suspicious if I represented both of you.”

“Fine!” spat Gabriel. “Who do you recommend?”

John thought for a moment. “I’d recommend Soraya Harandi. She works for one of the Bay Street firms, and she has represented faculty against the university in the past. We had a thing a couple of years ago and she hates my guts. But she’s good at what she does.”

He grunted into the phone, apparently reaching for his BlackBerry. “I’ll text you her contact information. Ask your girlfriend to call Soraya’s office and explain the situation to her secretary. I’m sure she’ll jump at the opportunity.”

“What’s the likelihood of either complaint resulting in—negative consequences?”

“I have no idea. It’s possible the university will conduct an investigation and dismiss both complaints. But don’t let her go in there without a lawyer, or this could turn around and bite both of you in the ass.”

“Thanks, John.” Gabriel’s voice was laced with sarcasm.

“In the meantime, I’d like you to make a list of everything—and I mean everything—that is relevant to the harassment complaint. Any kind of evidence she might present, such as emails, texts, messages, and photographs. Send everything to me, and I’ll start looking at it. And send me everything on your girlfriend too.

“I don’t like having to say, ‘I told you so,’ Gabriel. But I did. The university has a zero-tolerance policy with respect to fraternization, which means they can expel your girlfriend and fire you. Let’s hope the two complaints are not connected and that someone reported her for failing to return her library books.”

“It’s always a pleasure to speak with you,” said Gabriel icily.

“If you didn’t think with your dick, you wouldn’t be speaking with me. I just hope your girlfriend was worth it, because if the shit hits the fan, she’s going to turn out to be an extremely costly lay.”

Before John could say good-bye, Gabriel hurled the handset against the wall, watching it smash into several large pieces and falling to the hardwood floor below. Then he took several deep breaths so he could convince Julia they should simply enjoy their vacation.

* * *

That same afternoon, Dean David Aras sat in his office on St. George Street and looked at his telephone with surprise. Usually, his administrative assistant was much better at screening his calls. But Professor Katherine Picton was nothing if not persistent, and she usually received whatever she wanted. In this case, that was a conversation with the Dean of Graduate Studies at the University of Toronto.

He lifted the handset and pressed the button. “Hello, Professor Picton. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“There’s no pleasure at all, David. I demand to know why I received a letter from your office requiring me to be interviewed at one of your Stalinist proceedings.”

David pressed his lips together in order to avoid biting back. She was famous, she was old, and she was a woman. He wasn’t about to curse her out.

(Except in Lithuanian. Perhaps.)

“I need to ask you a few questions. It will take ten minutes, tops, and you’ll be on your way,” he replied smoothly.

“Nonsense. It takes me ten minutes to walk down the front steps of my house in the winter. It will take forever to walk over to your office. I demand to know what I am being summoned to and why, or I’m not coming. We can’t all spend our afternoons having assistants screen our calls and make us coffee so we can dream up ways of making other people’s lives miserable.”

The Dean cleared his throat.

“A complaint has been made against the graduate student you’re supervising.”

“Miss Mitchell? What sort of complaint?”

In a very understated way, he explained the nature of the complaint that he’d received.

“That’s outrageous! Have you even met her?”

“No.”

“This is a ridiculous complaint made against an innocent and hardworking female student. And need I remind you, David, that this is not the first time that a successful female graduate student has been slagged in a university proceeding.”

“I am quite aware of that. But there are related matters that I am not at liberty to discuss with you. I wish to interview you about your dealings with Miss Mitchell. That’s all.”

“I am not going to lend any credence whatsoever to a witch hunt that is targeting my graduate student.”

David frowned at her through the phone. “Without your testimony, it’s quite possible a grave injustice might occur. You might be exactly what we need to clear Miss Mitchell’s name.”

“Codswallop! It’s your responsibility to see that justice is served. I’m surprised that you have taken the complaint seriously. Quite surprised. And wipe that frown off your face, David. I can hear you sulking and I don’t appreciate it.”

The Dean suppressed a Lithuanian curse. “Professor Picton, are you refusing to answer my questions?”

“Are you hard of hearing? Or has your quest for administrative power made you intellectually lazy? I’ve said that I refuse to cooperate. I don’t work for the university anymore. I am retired. Furthermore, I will be bringing this matter up over dinner tonight at the President’s house. I’m sure he and his guests will be most interested in how the administration of his own university is operating.

“And by the way, the dinner party is being given in honor of Mary Asprey, the famous novelist. As an alumna, I know she takes an avid interest in the affairs of her alma mater, particularly the more patriarchal machinations. I wonder what she’ll make of this?”

And with that, Professor Picton hung up.

* * *

When Gabriel and Julia finally arrived at the Turtle Inn resort in Belize, it was late in the evening and the stars were already out. Julia explored their accommodations—a private hut on a secluded beach—while Gabriel ordered room service.

The walls of their hut were white, with the exception of a row of tall, teak panels that accordioned to open out onto the covered porch. The ceilings were a mixture of bamboo and thatch, and a large bed was centered in the room, shrouded in mosquito netting. Julia was particularly taken with the open air shower and bathtub that were located on a side veranda.

While Gabriel wrestled with the kitchen staff over the telephone, Julia quickly slipped out of her clothes and took a shower. The space was not completely closed, affording the bather a view of the ocean. But since it was dark out and they were on a private beach, there was no possibility of being surprised by anyone, apart from one’s lover.