Into the Lion's Den (45 page)

“I didn't mean to interrupt you.”

“Please, don't worry. I know whose idea it was,” Jean Jacques answered very fast in French. “Do you come from Poitiers?”

“I was born in New York and lived in Buenos Aires.” Guntram answered in English.

“I spend many years in Poitiers when I was around your age. There's one chef there who's a genius. I learn many things there. He has a restaurant at St. Épine. He only works with natural products from the area and traditional cooking methods. If he decides to use pumpkins, you'll find about ten to twenty different kinds in the day's menu and you will not tire of it. Every time I go to France, I do my best to pass by his establishment. I adapted several of his recipes for you as you have a very strict diet. What did you do to your doctor?”

“Your dishes are fantastic, sir. It doesn't taste like hospital food at all.”

“Can I use that sentence for a title? If you survive me then, I would like to write another book, one for cardiac patients. It's awful what they get! It's no wonder that they run to the first restaurant they can find the minute they're released,” the cook chuckled much to his helpers' astonishment at seeing his usually grumpy boss chatting in a jovial tone.

“I'm glad to be helpful.”

“Going out?” Jean Jacques asked, making a small sign with his head to the casual sport attire the boy was wearing, a light pullover and shirt without tie or jacket, nothing like what he was wearing on normal days or when the Duke was around.

“I'm going to the cinema it seems. The Duke doesn't come home tonight.”

“No, he has a dinner for nine people, including his official flame; Stefania di Barberini and her girls. If I were you, I would run away as fast as I can. They won't miss you. It's a meeting for some traders,” he chortled showing his disgust.

“Stefania di Barberini? The name sounds familiar. Who is she?”

“The epitome of good taste, elegance, chic,
charme
and idiocy. She's a TV hostess in the RAI and comments on fashion. Eons ago, she was a relatively known model, but now she's retired and in need of fixed income, one that only a husband can provide.”

“Jean Jacques, please! Ms, Barberini has been a friend of the Duke for the past…”

“Ten years? Alexei Gregorevich lasting in a bed doesn't mean that you're going to get a fixed position.

She will bring some models along and even you can imagine her task for tonight. I only regret to waste some good truffles on them. Perhaps, I should open a caviare can from the supermarket and serve it along with some ready made toasts and Philadelphia cheese. They wouldn't notice the difference.”

“This is none of our business.”

“Already sweating Alexei? Relax boy. Your boss is not here, and believe me, he shares my evaluation too. I bet that he ordered you this morning to get Guntram away for the night as he should not mix with such people,”

he smirked. “Antonov, take out Guntram this afternoon as I have a sensitive business meeting with people from outside our circle. Return at ten,” he impersonated the Duke's voice and accent very accurately. “You have still so much to learn, boy,” the chef added evilly while glancing around to check what his two helpers and sous chef were doing. “Do you dare to call this a
vol au vent
?” he shouted to one of the boys, removing something from the oven.

“
Merde
!”

Guntram gulped the rest of his tea while the cook shouted in German mixed with French to a man already looking abashed. “Let's go, please,” he whispered to a very upset Alexei, after his game had been so easily discovered.

“Tomorrow at seven, Alexei.” The Russian heard the moment he closed the door. He only increased his pace toward the main entrance and barked the butler for their coats. Once he started the car, he felt his nerves cooling down just a bit.

“That was my boyfriend, Guntram,” he explained very softly to a bewildered boy.

“Are you gay?”

“Yes, what's so strange?”

“Nothing,” Guntram muttered.

“We met in 1996, when I arrived to Zurich. We had something going on for a few months, then, he came to work here and we stopped till three months ago. I had to ask permission to date him again. I'm working as hard as I can to get something more stable and better than a bodyguard's position, so we are more serious about things. He's used to going out a lot and I don't like it at all.”

“I understand, Mr. Antonov.”

“Call me Alexei. We live next door so to speak.”

“All right.”

“I'll take you to McDonalds after the film, if you want. Do you like “Monsters”?

“I've seen many in the past years.”

“No, the film. It's from Disney, I think.”

“It's full of people. Can we not go to a café and stay in a corner?”

“Nope. We go to the cinema and watch the movie. I'll get you a chocolate bar or candies if you want.

Look, its dark, you shouldn't be afraid of people. Watch the film and forget about the rest.”

Guntram started to hyperventilate in the line but Alexei smiled at him and lightly squeezed his arm in a soothing attempt. Guntram gulped and centred his gaze on the children and parents making the line in front of him. 'I can do it, I can do it. It's just a silly film.'

All his guests were gone and three of the men had offered to deliver each one of the ladies to their hotels. He had heard from the main door's direction some partly repressed chuckles at around 11 p.m. in the middle of his lecture about Emerging Markets Perspectives and a strange urge to kill Antonov had engulfed his soul. The man was one hour late from his established arrival time; the boy had been running in the cold weather and now he was laughing like a child in the corridor. He would certainly have a word with the Russian in the morning.

“Will you show him to me, Konrad?”

“I beg you pardon?” 'Not now, Stefania, I'm not in the mood for fucking and much less here. She should know that by now. Never at home.'

“What you brought from Russia, dear. It's quite the talk.”

“Ah, you mean the small Kandinsky. It's not here, I'm afraid. At the bank, in a vault. I can order my people to show it to you tomorrow or the day after. It just does not fit with my decoration. I was considering buying two Tiepolo's drawings I saw in the latest catalogue, but perhaps it's too much to put them in my bedroom at Venice.”

“No, nothing so exquisite, Konrad,” she said with an acid but sweet voice. “I understand that he paints too, or at least tries to.”

“Ah, you mean Guntram. He should be in bed by now. You'll see him some other time, dear. He's very shy and hides at the first sight of people. Nothing to have around VIP's,” Konrad shrugged.

“Is it true that he was the lover of the owner of Repoil Inc. and the one of RusTrans?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“It's quite the talk. I think my friend, Sofia della Crocce heard your cousin, Gertrud von Kleist speaking about him during the Help the Children Annual Dinner in Paris.

“I don't ask such questions to people, dear. It's rather personal, don't you think?”

“If he's your pupil, you should know who lives under your roof. How old is he?”

“Almost twenty-two years old and he's my ward, not pupil. His father asked me to take care of him when he was a small child. He has a serious heart condition and I would appreciate that you don't contribute to the rumours.”

“Two billionaires before twenty-two? Should we sign him up for the Guinness Records Book?”

“Only one my dear; Repoil and RusTrans belong to the same man, among many others. The weather in St. Petersburg is too wet for him. For your information, he had a scholarship in his foundation and lived with him in London and St. Petersburg for two years. He's studying here with my own curator, Ostermann and that already proves that he has some talent. His grades were always very high and…”

“Apparently the wife caught them both in bed,” Stefania gloated causing Konrad's cold fury to increase at the rude interruption.

“As I said, I don't ask about such personal matters. For me is enough to know that he's honest, serious and hard working. None of us can cast the first stone regarding good sexual behaviour, don't you think Stefania?”

“Well, living off a rich man and later coming to the next, establishes a certain pattern, Konrad, don't you think?” She fired before she could choose her words better.

“My driver will take you home. Good night, Stefania,” the Duke barked and directed his steps in a straight line to the door and opened it for her.

“I was hoping that you would do it, dear,” she said in a vain attempt to fix what had been broken. Men were always so sensitive—especially this one—in their male pride. No one was supposed to challenge their views.

“Another time perhaps. I had more than two glasses tonight. I can't drive. Good night.”

“Good night, Konrad,” she answered, totally furious with him.

The Duke didn't wait for the car to go away to put his phone out of the drawer in the library and dial Ferdinand's number.

“Ferdinand, that you don't live with your wife does not excuse you from maintaining a certain order within your house!” he barked at the man before he could greet him.

“What has Marie Amélie done now, Konrad?” his friend said tiredly, convinced that his youngest daughter had been into some mischief.

“Not her! Your wife! She was telling everybody that Guntram was living with Repin! I clearly said that no comments on that at all! And my own cousin starts to spread lies about him! It can come only from you Ferdinand!”

“I said nothing! I'll ask her from where she got the story.”

“I knew you were against us in this, but this is very low. What do you win by ruining this boy's reputation?”

“I ruined nothing! And he was in Repin's bed all by himself!”

“I'm very disappointed with you. Guntram has done nothing against you and you stab him in the back?

Where's your honour?”

“I said nothing! Women gossip and you know it. I will stop it.”

“It's too late. Even Stefania di Barberini knows about it. Your wife can be very glad to have ruined his chances to be respectable again!”

“He's not a bloody maid and we are not in the XIX century. Should we ask Armin how many adventures he had already? Or my own boys? The lad had a lover, so what? It's not as if he were a street whore! Really Konrad, think before you cry to me!”

“His reputation should be unquestionable and you know the reasons!”

“No, I don't know them. Care to explain, Konrad?” Ferdinand asked as all his internal alarms sprang to life.

“A clean name is mandatory to be in our Order.”

“No, no, no, my friend. Don't give me that. We’ve known each other since we were nine years old. The

“highest reputation” story is only required for a certain position within the Council and we both know which one it is.”

“Your wife has directly disregarded an order from her Griffin,” Konrad barked, furious to be trapped.

“I will speak with Gertrud and she will apologise to you. It's the other thing that worries me. What exactly are you planning to do with Guntram?”

“Nothing, he's my ward and part of my family.”

“Shit! Don't go there! He's the snake's nephew! Do you think that Löwenstein will let you have him?

After you exiled his niece just because she was married to Roger? You ruined her medical career and now she's in a God forgotten African country vaccinating everything that moves. And you're considering now to get the boy in your bedroom? As Consort? Shit!”

“I can trade with him. Her full pardon for his support.”

“I will not let you. It's an obsession what you have! There are hundreds of light brown hair and blue eyed boys in this world. Fuck them all if you have to. But stay away from Guntram!”

“He's nothing like Roger and I'm getting tired of your permanent nagging about getting a Consort and children. I'll be forty-six in November. It's time to settle down.”

“Fuck! Fuck! Settle down? With the living image of the man who nearly killed you and robbed everything you had? Besides, how do you plan to have children? He's a man in case your brain was too busy drooling to realise it!”

“Modern Science has advanced dramatically. There's a good legal framework in the United States. I could also get a wife if the council prefers the traditional, but less efficient way.”

“No, no, no. Löwenstein will not allow it. I will not allow it! Albert will not allow it!”

“I can get the votes from Goran, Michael, and the others don't care at all. They will do anything to get their bank accounts fatter.”

“I can't believe it! You're serious about it! What do you think will happen when you go and merrily announce that you want a boy for consort? Do you have any idea of all the shit Repin had to cope with just because he was gay? Since when do you like boys again?”

“You know I always preferred men to women. I simply don't understand the later. They're a permanent source of trouble.”

“Yes, Roger was a candid dove,” Ferdinand snickered.

“This one is. There's the antecedent of my predecessor Klaus Friederich von Lintorff in the XVIII century. He named the Prinz Otto von Olomuc his consort and married a woman too. Otto is buried in the same vault as he. Let's do not forget how many of our knights had many long lasting relationships in wartime and that our founder, Theodobald von Lintorff had an affair of twenty-six years with a young bishop from Italy, illegitimate child from Pope Innocent… and finally, least but not last, my own father with—”

“We don't know about that, so, leave it!”

“Please, it's very clear for me and the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I don't know what I would do without him, Ferdinand. The best counsellor I've ever had, even if he never got the title.”

“If they never made it public, you must respect their reasons.”

“He has even moulded your character, Ferdinand. Do you see my point now?”