Into the Lion's Den (58 page)

Her howl put him on guard and he was able to dodge the porcelain box hurled in his direction with incredibly good aim. The box crashed against the wall and Konrad knew that it was the time to leave the woman shouting atrocities at him. 'Good Lord, what manners! I doubt Guntram could be able of such a display even if he were furious with me.'

Konrad left the building to find his long-time bodyguard, Ricardo, leaning against the black car, smoking a cigarette. The man jumped to attention the minute he saw his boss leaving the building as he were chased by the devil ('or a cunning witch') and opened the door for him.

“And people wonder why I never married before,” Konrad snorted, before entering inside the car. “Tell Monika to call her manager and arrange the details. She's too upset to remember it.”

Ricardo closed the door with great satisfaction. Miss Barberini was officially out after lasting ten years, four months and three days. A world record.

Perhaps the rumours about that young French becoming the Duke's new lover were true. It wouldn't be the first time his employer had fun with a man. 'Hope this time it lasts, seems to be a good boy, nothing like the vipers he beds. Ratko says he's nice.' Ricardo thought as he sat in the passenger's side indicating with his head that they should drive back home.

Still upset for getting a powder box flung at his head and accused of being a pervert—why could no one believe that his love for Guntram was pure and selfless?—Konrad needed to calm down or someone would suffer his bad temper. Watching the boy sleep had always that strange therapeutic effect on him. He entered in his room on tiptoes, noticing that the window was open and his pencils were scattered over the cover. 'One of these days, he's going to stab himself with one of those things.' Konrad moved his head disapprovingly while he removed the items and left them over the bedside table.

'He's so beautiful that I can't take away my eyes from him. When did I fall in love? Was it when he smiled at me for the first time? No. When he let me touch his face and looked at me with his big eyes? Not that time. I was already mad about him. The times we were speaking together or walking in the forest? When he looked at everything in awe and showed me beauty even in a dirty pond? No, I loved him since the moment he sat next to Goran in the car, looking terrified but doing his best to conceal his fear and face me.'

Konrad crossed the room as silently as he could, closing the open window. 'It's cold for him. A draft could be dangerous.' He approached the bed and covered Guntram better, taking a good look at him, soundly asleep.

'Roger told me that his father used to call him his “little prince” and how right he was!'

'No, I can't be friends with Guntram. He has to be my consort.'

The glaring sun woke Konrad up. Cursing at the late hour, he sat on his bed and rang for that incompetent of a butler. 'I clearly told him at eight and its 11:54! Idiot!'

The butler knocked at the door very timidly, knowing beforehand that his employer was very upset. His short temper was legendary and yesterday he had broken up with the model he favoured so much. The heads would start to roll in any minute. He had kept his temper in check since he had arrived with the young French and behaved well toward his staff.

“I said at eight, Mario!” Konrad started his scold but a soft knocking stopped it. “Come in!”

“Good morning, Konrad,” Guntram greeted him, carrying a dish covered with a napkin in his right hand.

“Your bodyguard told me you returned very late and I asked Mario to let you sleep. There's no need to go today to the Vatican. We can do it some other day,” he said simply.

“In that case…” Konrad answered, settling for throwing a dirty glance at his butler, who ran away in haste to bring a cup of coffee for his master.

“Come Guntram, sit with me. I apologise for the inconvenience,” he said, moving to one side of the bed to leave some free room, but the boy sat in the couch at his right side. 'Not what I was expecting. For once, he's in my room, he's dressed and sitting on a darned couch.'

“Were you out?” Konrad asked, noticing that the boy was wearing simple beige trousers and a striped shirt with normal shoes.

“Yes, since 7 a.m. In the farm. My models from yesterday are today's lunch.” he replied, smiling while the butler placed a small silver tray with a cup of black coffee on top of Konrad's bedside table. “It will be pretty soon.

Maria Domenica promised to bake a chicken pie for me.”

“Did she really say “chicken pie”?” Konrad asked incredulous.

“
Pasticcino di pollo.
Is it chicken pie, right?”

“Yes, it is but she doesn't cook since 1995! My house keeper is retired!” Konrad was irked to say the minimum. The woman knew he loved it since he was a child, but since her retirement, she refused to cook for him, only taking care of the house management.

“She told me yesterday night she was going to make one for me. And she has given me this too. It's like small apple cakes. They're really good and thought that I could save one for you.” Guntram answered removing the napkin to show two perfectly golden small apple pastries, covered with honey.

“I'm asking her to bake them since 1994. I adored them when I was a child, but she retired and stopped making them. She keeps the recipe under seven locks!” Konrad said with a mixture of resentment, jealousy and admiration. “Since when do you know Maria?”

“From yesterday night. I didn't want to eat alone and had dinner with your butler and her, in the kitchen.

He's also a very kind man. She has relatives in Argentina and we were speaking long about it.”

“And you got the cakes…”

“Plus the recipe. She says that Jean Jacques should bake them for me. Do you want to try it?” Guntram came closer to the bed offering the dish to Konrad.

“Exactly as I remember them,” he said after the first bite. “How did you manage it? She refuses to do it for me!”

“Did you try with “please”?”

'Coming to think no, but it's her job,' Konrad thought, but said nothing, too busy finishing the pastry.

“You can have the other too, Konrad. Perhaps I could convince her to make more,” Guntram chortled very amused.

“Do it and I'll name you my heir,” Konrad said seriously and Guntram laughed, shaking his head negatively. “Come, sit here. I'm always trespassing in your bedroom.” Konrad tried for a second time and the boy sat on the other side of his bed.

“How was your evening?” he asked casually.

'He's jealous!' Konrad realised joyfully but his happiness was a short lived one: “Is it as luxurious as
Oggi
says? Were there celebrities? Jennifer Anniston was coming to the opening this week!” when the youth asked him at full speed.

“Who?” Konrad grunted, crossed that Guntram was more interested in the place than what he had been doing.

“You can not know her. The girl from “Friends”! Rachel!” Guntram snorted.

“Does she work in a bank?”

“No! She's an actress. Very famous!”

“If she was there, I missed her. I was with Stefania.” Konrad put some emphasis on the last word of the sentence.

“Yes, I know. She's a very beautiful woman. I remember her now. Was she not the one from this cosmetics campaign; the one with the Greek goddess or was it Helena of Troy?”

“Helena,” Konrad grunted, displeased at the turn the conversation was taking.

“Very beautiful indeed,” Guntram said lost in his thoughts. “If I were you, I would be very happy that a woman like her calls at my door,” he finished, his gaze fixed in a brocade's detail.

Konrad couldn't help it. He had enough. He bent his body over the unsuspecting boy and firmly gripped his chin and kissed him full on the lips, capturing his soft lips to devour them, enjoying the gasp and surprise from Guntram.

Guntram was petrified when he felt the man kissing him with so much ardour, like Constantin had never done before. It was like being kissed by a volcano and without realising it he put his arms around the powerful neck and shoulders offering himself to Konrad, letting him taste him fully.

Konrad immediately put his arms around the boy's waist pulling him with a light jerk on top of his body, revelling on how the boy kissed him back without restraints or calculations, naturally responding to his caresses, surrendering every wall to him and letting him take all what he wanted. His hands roamed through his back, briefly resting on his bottom and the need to feel Guntram under him was overpowering. With infinite care he turned so the child would be under him, without interrupting his kisses, savouring the mixture of tenderness, youthful eagerness and surrender he was receiving.

Guntram slightly spread his legs to let the man positioning himself better, feeling an unknown electricity running through his spine. “God, he's a hundred times better than Constantin,” his mind acknowledged and the consequent “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” came as a natural result with lightening speed.

He pushed away the surprised man on top of him. Konrad grunted in disbelief that what was one of the best kisses he had enjoyed in years had been cut off so abruptly. He saw Guntram jumping out of the bed, standing by the door looking at him with horror, shock and embarrassment. The boy opened the door and ran away to his private living room and to corridor.

“Damn! I almost had him!” Konrad cursed.

'Time to get dressed and catch my frightened kitten. This jump cannot be good for him. There's no way that I will let him escape now.'

'I'm a mess. What the hell was I thinking? Clearly I was not thinking! All this is the result of not having sex for a year! I was kissing that man! He killed my family! I have to get laid by someone and soon!'

'Sure, brother. With the seventy year old Austrian butler, the Russian bodyguard with a nice guy for a boyfriend, the very well married maids, or the seventy-five year old Art teacher with more thorns than a hedgehog?

So, the winner is… the German! Who, by the way, kisses like hell! Imagine what he can do with the rest!'

'Shut up! I'm not going to fuck him! Even if he were the last man in Earth! Besides the doctor forbid it.'

'Your doctor has patients like the Löwenstein Dinosaur! Can you imagine one of them in bed with the German? That man really knows how to kiss! Unlike Constantin! A full ride must be incredible and you like him since you saw him in London!'

'Never! I just thought he was handsome, with classical features!'

'Nothing like a handsome guy to get it good, brother!'

'He's a murderer!'

'Won't be your first! Let me remind you… Constantin?'

'I left him!'

'You left him because you had enough of him! Fool him but don't fool yourself! You were only putting a nice face when you were in bed with him. You liked that he was drooling over you… Like a pro, Guntram.'

'Shut up!'

'No, I'm your conscience and I do love my job! Think over it brother; the German is good looking and some real good sex will be good for you!'

'Shut up!'

A soft knock on his door cut abruptly his internal monologue and he feared that it was HIM. He was petrified, still dazed for the kiss he had received, 'and returned, brother, quite hotly', sitting in his bed. A second knock forced his good breeding to take over his frayed nerves and he stood up to answer it.

“The Duke would like to know if you're having lunch with him or not, sir,” Mario, the butler asked very politely.

'Of course I don't want to but do I have an option? He will charge in after lunch!' “Please tell his Grace that I'll rejoin him in five minutes. I still have to take my pills.”

“Certainly, sir. You don't look well. Should I ask a tea for you?”

“No, no, it's all right. It's just a headache.”

“Very well, sir.” The man left the room and Guntram felt once more lost in the room. He went to his bathroom to take his pills and wash his face with cold water. He took a tie from his closet and a jacket too with the secret hope that those symbols would establish that he was not in the mood to play with Konrad. 'He's clever, he should understand the hint.'

They had lunch in complete silence although Konrad tried to initiate a conversation on art but Guntram barely answered with some barely articulated monosyllables, bordering on grunts. 'Is he not hot? Friederich told me he hates ties; only wears when he has no other option. The first thing he does in the morning is to get rid of it the minute I'm out. We're in the middle of the summer! The last thing I need is to run to the E.R. because he had a collapse. He's already looking very flushed.'

“Guntram, do you feel all right?”

“Yes, Sire. Thank you.”

'That's it! Sire and tie. Back to square one. I'll speak with him before he hides under his bed and not in mine where he should be. Roger was driving me mad with his demands and evasive, but his mood swings are more impressive. Half an hour ago he was kissing me, and really enjoying it and now, he looks like a frightened mouse again.'

“Would you like to go this afternoon to the Vatican? The treasury is open till late.”

“Please accept my excuses, but I have a headache. Some other time, perhaps.”

'Please accept my excuses? No, this will not work with me, young rascal.' “It must be the heat in this house, Guntram. Too much excitement for you in the morning and noon,” Konrad said and noticed how the boy blushed at his words. “The best would be to remain in a quiet and safe place for you, like St. Peter's. I'll take you for a ride.” He enjoyed the last words as the boy gulped at the double meaning phrase.

Guntram could only nod his acceptance.

Konrad sat on the pew a few metres away from where Guntram was standing, first looking enraptured to Michelangelo's Pietà and now sketching it at an incredible speed. 'No wonder Friederich complains that he hides papers and pencils in his pockets. He had the full set! With sharpener included! Wait till he sees the pencil shavings you carry in your pocket! If this helps him to calm down and be more reasonable, then I will tell him to let the boy alone. Since we arrived at 2:00 he has only spoken three words to me.'

He noticed a priest well over his seventies, not tall, approaching Guntram and standing next to him as he inspected the way the boy was working. 'Jesuit and cardinal. Well, time to go back to your duties, your Eminence,'