Into the Lion's Den (5 page)

“I can't accept. It's too much.”

“It's nothing compared to the crime it would be to waste such talent.”

“Sir, I can't accept it. I will be cheating you.”

“It's my decision and I will not complain about it. I pay more than two hundred fifty scholarships per year.

One more, won't kill my finances and for once I will be sure that my money is well invested. You can repay me with your pieces if that makes you happy. You have no idea how much pleasure your paintings give me. I can't stop to look at them. I keep them framed in my office and in my private jet so I can watch and enjoy them, Guntram.”

“It's too much,” Guntram whispered.

“Why? You can attend in the morning the classes at the UCL and take private lessons with a good teacher. I know most of the merchants there and they know me. I'm sure you will not fail, once you're known.”

“I can't deliver what you want from me. I don't want to do what you want of me.”

“Do you have the courage to tell me that you don't like to paint?”

“Not that, the other thing.”

“Well, you'd better enlighten me because it seems that you are more aware of my interests than myself.”

“I don't know how to say this, but I think you misunderstood me.”

“How so?”

“I don't like to do it with men.”

“This is based on your broad experience?”

“I have no experience at all! Well, not with men and I don't want to have it!”

“With women?” Constantin asked as he put another piece of meat into his mouth as Guntram blushed at the blunt question, fired as it would be the most normal thing in the world.

“This is none of your business, sir!”

“Zero or close to zero if I see correctly,” he shrugged making Guntram blush deeper, a gesture that Constantin didn't miss. “Zero,” he concluded as he took a sip of his wine.

“I can't see how all this can be related.”

“It's not related. I was offering a scholarship and you brought up your sexual preferences. Did I insinuate myself in any way?”

Guntram paled and felt like dying of shame. “No, never but I thought that…”

“That you can't paint well so I want to shag you in bed?”

“More or less.”

“Well, no. Not in the way you think.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I think you're a talented artist. That you happen to be a very cute boy and it's true that I like boys more than girls, is irrelevant. You're not my type. Even if you would decide to play on my field, you would be looking for a stable, committed and long term relationship and I can't provide that. With me you can have an adventure, and a very good one, but nothing else. I'm not the type that falls in love forever. I admit that I would take great pleasure in taking you to my bed and teaching you a few things, but in the morning you would be crying and willing to stay and I can't give you that. I can't stand it. We can be friends and I would like to be your mentor, but we could never be lovers.”

“I understand, sir,” Guntram whispered, not truly comprehending why he felt so utterly sad. 'Rejection is horrible, even if you were looking for it, Guntram.'

“My offer of this trip is purely business. I'm not going to run after you in Florence or declare my love by the Arno River. I have several companies to run and I will be busy most of the time. I was thinking to give you a guide or ask you if you wanted to bring a friend along,” Constantin finally chose his strategy; take the boy to his field and then isolate him till he would jump to his bed on his own accord. 'Yes, curiosity killed the cat,' he thought as he saw the disappointed look in Guntram's eyes 'He's crystal in his reactions, nothing fake or premeditated, generous and kind.

He's going to be incredible in bed.'

“I'm sorry if I offended you with my assumptions, Mr. Repin.”

“Don't worry, I'm glad the young ones still consider me game,” he said jovially

“You're too kind.”

“Do you want to come in December? Christmas is a very nice season there and I can take a few days off from my obligations,” he pressed the issue.

“I don't know. I have to work and I don't know if I could take holidays. Perhaps fifteen days but never a month,” Guntram answered feeling torn between his desire to go and his good sense telling him to refuse it.

“Take fifteen days, then. Only London and Paris to start. If you want to see more, then you can travel to Italy.”

“I would love to see Florence and Perugia, where most of Perugino is, but my boss will not let me and I can't afford to lose my job,” Guntram said undecided.

“We're buying several companies there. You speak English, Spanish and French. Zakharov—the one in charge of the Argentinean chapter—will find a position for you. It's an opportunity you can't miss,” 'And it's better that you're out of this pathetic country if Konrad does what he wants to do around December.'

“I don't know.”

“Say yes. It leaves me a very bad after taste that you have given me so much and don't let me do a very small thing for you.”

“It's not a small thing, it's one of my biggest dreams to see all that,” Guntram whispered almost convinced of the most ridiculous idea he had heard in his life.

“If you don't do crazy things when you're twenty, then you do them when you're sixty and then, it looks pathetic,” Constantin tempted him.

“I need some time to think about it.”

'Typical Libra, but he's mine, I see it in his eyes.' “Yes, of course, it's a big decision. It will change your life, I'm sure of that.”

“Guntram is 1:30 a.m. Go to bed now. I will not repeat it any longer,” a very amused Constantin shook the boy from his fourth drawing in pencil, finally achieving the concept he wanted.

“So late? I didn't realise. I go away now.”

“I sent my driver to bed at 12 a.m. before he would strike on me. You can stay in the guest room down the corridor.”

“ I don't want to bother you. I'll take the bus.”

“No, you stay here. It's not a bother at all. The room is ready for you and you can show your drawings to Oblomov in the morning.”

“I didn't mean this to happen. People say that I space out when I draw. It used to happen to me in the school.”

“Space out? I would say that you move to another galaxy. You spoke with me for twenty minutes and then, you focused on her eyes and the world ceased to exist,” Constantin laughed. “Go to bed.”

When they reached the guest room, Constantin opened easily the door and entered while Guntram stayed by the door frame, uncertain of his next move, staring with big eyes the modern looking room, with a big bed, a desk and chair and a comfortable chaise longue by the window, in brown and beige shades. The Russian turned around and passed by the door. “Good night, he whispered, sleep well,” and his hand softly caressed Guntram's face and he shyly smiled back unused to this demonstration of affection, but not truly wanting the hand to go away. Without realising what he was doing, both his hands took the larger one and returned the caress, his lips briefly touching it.

“Good night, Guntram,” Constantin smiled back with a soft light in his eyes.

“Good night, Constantin,” the boy blushed not truly believing what he had just done.

'Now, I have you where I want you, my angel. It's just a matter of time before you're truly mine.”

“Good morning boss!” Oblomov shouted at 11 a.m. when he found Constantin having breakfast alone in the terrace. “Dove flew away already?”

“Still sleeping, he was up till 2 AM”

Oblomov chuckled. “Haven't lost your touch, boss. He must be exhausted.”

“Drawing your wife. She looks much better than she ever did.”

“
Nada?
” He asked in disbelief. The boy sleeping under the same roof as his boss and his virtue was untouched? Impossible.

“I told you, he's a rare wine. At this point a tumble or two won't be enough for me. He's everything I dreamed of and more. I want him permanently in my bed and drawing next to me. He agreed to come to Europe in December.”

“Well, it's better than nothing. We are not falling for him, are we?”

“Perhaps it's time to settle down. I'm sick of changing lovers and of their permanent whining or childish behaviour. The ones that Mikhail prepares are simply boring with all their training. This one is perfect for me. He has a classical beauty and a symmetrical face, doesn't whore himself around, he's talented, a little too shy perhaps—but we can't have everything, can we?—discreet, quiet, well-educated, from an old family, totally innocent and kind. I couldn't ask for more.”

“He's a decent kid, Constantin,” Oblomov used his Christian name, something very rare and only reserved for the “solemn occasions”. “What will happen to him if you tire of him? This one looks like the type of having one or two relationships in all his life. Do you even know if he wants you?”

“He does but needs time to get used to the idea. He's afraid of sex, but willing to learn. I saw it in his eyes. I don't think I will get tired of this one. I've decided to send him to the new house in London.”

“That you would stop whoring around would be very good. Nothing like a stable lover. It gives you more focus and peace of mind but do you want to put him in that house? Olga Fedorovna will not be pleased and you know what they say… 'Hell hath no fury like a scorned woman,' boss.”

“She'll get over it. She has the house in Paris and another in Manhattan only for her use. The one in London is mine and I do what I please with it.”

“Boss, women look the other way if you have an adventure. They simply don't care, but the moment the adventure becomes something serious, hell gets loose. She considers that mansion as her own. She's already planning to move there for a month or two per year, like all her girlfriends do.”

“She'll get over in the next Paris Fashion Week.”

“Boss, hear me out. The boy will be happy in a nice flat in Chelsea or Kensington. He's not flamboyant or anything like that. You can visit him there all what you want.”

“No, that's my decision. I'm getting tired of her constant demands. Due to our arrangement, I have given her ample space.”

“Too much in my opinion. Do you know that von Kleist told me she has opened an account with one of his fellow members on the Island of Man? He tells there is three hundred fifty million pounds in there, half of what she got from you for the sale of Petroland. That's not good boss. She's after something if she starts to put her money into the enemy's territory.”

“I trust Lintorff to honour our pact if necessary. The minute she tries something against me, I'll go for the divorce express option. Her services are no longer needed as she should have realised seven years ago. Besides, he's not a paid boy toy who can be put in a flat and visit whenever you want some fun. He comes from two noble families, he's not an alley cat.”

“Two noble families that happen to be members of the Order and one of them provided several consorts for the Lintorffs.”

“Yes, it's a well known fact: If you want a blonde, cute, unable to make trouble, prince or princess, go to the Guttenberg Sachsen. Their highest contribution to European history was their wineries in Franken area and nothing else. Married to everybody, never getting into anybody's power schemes. In a way, that's already a considerable feat.

Do you know that Peter the Great had one mistress from that family? My grandfather used to tell me the story. If you want a good looking wife, go to them, they're not as crazy or powerful as the Wittelsbach, but they will not create too many troubles; their brains prevent them to do it. Clever man, I should have listened to him, and perhaps I will now.”

“He looks like a sensible lad. Down to Earth but Olga is not. She's looking for an excuse to declare war on you.”

“Let her do it.”

“She won't go after your throat but after the boy's. Be careful boss.”

“I will. Are you, by any chance starting to like him?”

“Not in the way you think, boss. I like him because he's not prissy or looking for trouble. A real working boy and paints really well. Those sketches are something else,” Oblomov chuckled.

“Lenin would die again if he were to hear you. The working class represented by the grandchild of the Vicomte de Marignac?”

“The irony of life. Should he not be up? Doesn't he have to go to work?”

“Yes, but I let him be. He's not going to last long in that place, but you're right. He should be up and working,” Constantin chuckled visibly amused and relaxed.

The sunlight bathed Guntram's face and the brown bangs of his hair looked almost dark blond with some red strikes shinning. He looked very young and totally oblivious to everything. 'When was the last time that anyone felt safe as too sleep near me? He looks like a small child and completely trusts me. He has to be mine by reason or force.'

Constantin thought as he was mesmerized looking at the chest slowly rising and falling. He approached the bed and sat on one side, softly shaking Guntram awake.

“Wake up, it's time for breakfast,” he said kindly, devouring the boy with his eyes just for a second before he opened his eyes and returned to his normal blank face.

Guntram seemed to be a little disoriented about the place but he shyly smiled when he saw Constantin. “Good morning. Sorry, I overslept. What time is it?”

“Good morning. Around 11 a.m., I would say.”

“So late? I'm dead. The manager will kill me and later resurrect me to make me finish the shift! I'm sorry but I have to go to work,” he said, jumping out of the bed and nearly tripping with the too long pyjama trousers.

“Some people still dream about not studying for a school test but it seems you dream about your boss,”

Constantin chuckled.

“You would also dream about him if he were your boss,” he said in a hurry before disappearing into the bathroom. The Russian stood up and left the room to meet Oblomov, who was sitting at the dinning table and having a coffee while he checked his computer.

“Is he up?”

“On the brink of a heart attack because he's late for work.”

“Are those people still existing boss?” The giant chortled.

“It seems,” Constantin replied, sitting in front of him and starting to look into his own laptop.