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Authors: Karin Fromwald

Love under contract (31 page)

BOOK: Love under contract
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“And at 11:00 o’clock, he has a meeting,” she called after her as she was about to open the door to Gregor’s office. She walked in and decided immediately that it had to be the office with the best view in the building. One could see all of New York through windows that extended from ceiling to floor. Gregor stood in front of the windows, and spoke on the telephone, with the loudspeaker on.

 

He turned around as he heard the door open and saw Zara. “John, I’ll call you back after the meeting.” He hung up and in surprise, asked, “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

Zara waved the vacation request form in front of his nose. “This! How come I’m going on vacation, if you please? I’m working on a contract!” Gregor grinned. “Because I want you to. We’re going to Israel.” “No,
we
are not going; you’re going, I’m not. . .,” Zara said, and tried not to raise her voice. “Yes, you are.” He was laughing, and Zara became really furious. “Why do you think you’re entitled to determine when I want to take a vacation? We had agreed that I would be just an employee here. And, as such, I have my rights!” She hit him in the chest with her flat hand. He grabbed her hand and said, “Hey, I want to finally introduce you to my parents, okay? Now calm down!” “You can go alone!”

Just at that moment an older man walked in – with Peggy behind him. “I’m sorry, Doctor Levy.” Gregor looked at her. “Ah, Daniel . . .come in . . .” The white-haired visitor, who was a partner in the firm, smiled at Zara, and said, “Am I interrupting?” Gregor realized that he was still holding Zara’s hand and quickly let it go. “No, she was just leaving.” He smiled at his wife, while she grimaced. “As always . . .” She turned around and headed to the door. “We’ll discuss it later,” he called after her. “Don’t go to any trouble!”

“I did interrupt, didn’t I?” Daniel asked. Gregor shook his head. “No, no problem . . .” “Your girlfriend – isn’t she the French attorney . . .” he tried to think of her name; she had such a strange French name. “Zara Valois and she is my wife,” Gregor said, and then sat down and gestured to the chair across from him. “Please sit down.” Daniel made himself comfortable. “I didn’t know that you were married.” “It’s a little secret because Zara works here.” “Ah, so . . .”

 

Zara was at her desk again and was furiously doodling on a piece of paper. “So, are you going on vacation?” Jenny asked her, curious. Zara looked up. “Certainly not; it’s an error.” This man is going to make her lose her mind; if only she didn’t feel so strangely drawn to him.

It had to be an hour later that Gregor appeared on her floor. As he approached, Jenny already saw him through the glass door, which was the only divider between offices. He was wearing a dark suit without a tie. He had never been here before in all the time she had worked at the firm, but his visit probably had nothing to do with her. “I think you have a visitor.” The entire firm whispered about their relationship, no, all of New York. Was it true that she had left him once? Right after he had bought her an engagement ring? Jenny wouldn’t have left him – but Zara, now, she was different.

Zara sighed – he couldn’t cause much more of a sensation; it was a bad idea to work with him here. She looked in his direction, saw his broad shoulders, his handsome face, and his smile. He always beamed at her, already in the morning when she woke up next to him. Sex with him was good, very good actually, he was so obliging, charming; he idolized her, it was the ideal marriage, no, the almost ideal marriage. Strange, how it turned out. She lowered her gaze, and looked briefly at the contract that lay before her.

 

He walked into the office, smiled at Jenny and motioned with his head in Zara’s direction. “Come with me for a moment . . .” Zara acted as if she hadn’t heard him. He came over, took her by the arm, and steered her out of the office. In French, Zara scolded him, “Are you crazy” What are the other people here going to think?” “That you have a relationship with me, but they think that anyway already . . .”  He, too, had heard the gossip – but he had expected that.

He was right; they were seen together again and again, so why all the secrecy? She sighed dramatically.

He opened a door – and several pairs of eyes stared at him – he was looking for an empty room so that he could speak with her. He hated it if all day long he had to think about her being angry.  He didn’t want her to be furious with him, not at all; he wanted her to be happy.

Finally, the third door that he opened led to an empty conference room – without transparent walls. He pulled her inside, put his arms around her and pressed her to him. “I’m sorry, okay . . .” He kissed her, and she moaned softly as he pushed her against the wall. What was he doing to her? He had hardly embraced her and she had forgotten her anger, her frustration, that he had made decisions for her; she wanted only to be loved and kissed.

“The next time you’d better ask me first,” she whispered. Her hands slipped under his jacket, and she felt his body under the fine fabric of his white shirt. “This isn’t such a good idea – we’re at work,” Gregor whispered softly and kissed her in the nape of her neck. Then someone opened the door. “Oh, sorry!” And the door quickly closed again. Zara burst out laughing. “I think we have to postpone this until tonight . . .” “Unfortunately, until tomorrow. I have to fly to London yet today,” he responded, sighing. He let her go and looked at her face. This is exactly how he wanted her to be, smiling, relaxed – this is how he loved her, so much that it made him crazy. He knew he wouldn’t survive, not now, if she left him again. Did she have any idea how much power she had over him?

“But I’ve planned five days on the sea. As secluded as on an island . . .” She knew what he meant: five days, night and day, only the two of them. A pleasant chill ran up and down her spine as she imagined it and she traced his lips with her finger. “So, Doctor Levy, what do you want to do there, work on contracts with me?” “If you want to, and it excites you, then yes!” She giggled like a little girl and pushed him away.

As they left the room, three men were standing outside, grinning – one of them was the department head – another greeted Gregor effusively, “
Hello,
Doctor Levy . . .” Gregor smiled and Zara had to control herself so she wouldn’t burst out laughing. But both of them were in quite a hurry to get away.

She came back to her office and Jenny grinned. “So. . .” Zara sighed. “I’m flying to Israel to meet his parents . . .” Jenny looked at her, open-mouthed. “Wow, that sounds really serious!” Zara shook her head. “More serious than it already is doesn’t seem possible,” she murmured. She hoped Jenny wouldn’t ask any more questions; she didn’t like lying to her colleague.

 

Zara had never been in Israel. It was a warm October day, the sky was a radiant blue and the golden cupola of the Dome of the Rock shone in the sun.

 

A singular magic seemed to hover over the city and after Gregor and Zara had dropped their suitcases at their suite in the King David Hotel, they took a walk through the Old Town, across the Old Market.

Zara was fascinated by the merchants and the arcade at the old market. She stopped at every fabric shop and before the market visit was over, Gregor had a number of shopping bags in his hands. She wouldn’t have been Zara if she hadn’t bought anything.

She found hundreds of things that she wanted to take back to New York. Gregor had never seen her so enthusiastic, other than in a designer boutique.

In keeping with the environment, she was wearing a long, form-fitting tunic with long sleeves, and linen pants, in a radiant blue hue, like the Israeli flag. Her hair was down, and Gregor, amused, thought she looked like a child of the desert. He bought her gold earrings that she immediately put on, and gold bangles that jingled at her wrist. As they were standing on the old city wall, they had almost forgotten the time. The sun was setting over the Mount of Olives. Gregor had put his arm around her and Zara was leaning against him. She sighed audibly. Gregor asked, “What’s wrong?” and gently stroked her cheek.

“It is so incredibly beautiful,” Zara said quietly. She had had a wonderful afternoon and realized that in the last months she had had many such wonderful days, and had to admit it was primarily because of Gregor.

She looked up into his eyes. “What is it?” Her gaze irritated him. She turned around and embraced him. “You may think I’m crazy, but despite my marrying you under protest, I’m pretty happy.” Gregor smiled. Not too bad for a start, he thought; and, at some point, she would most likely realize and admit that she loved him.

He said nothing, however, but kissed her on the nose. “Come, let’s go – my parents are probably waiting.”

 

Gregor had to admit that he was a little nervous; he had never before brought a woman home to meet his parents, and he studied Zara again, outside his parents’ house. What was she carrying? A huge paper bag that she must have gotten out of the car.

“What are you lugging there?” he asked, somewhat irritated, and looked in the bag. There were two beautifully wrapped gifts. Zara smiled. She hoped that she had chosen the right things. “They’re gifts. You married me for my good manners, among other reasons,” she teased him and gave him a kiss. At that moment, the door opened and Gregor’s mother, Esther, stood on the threshold.

She smiled as she saw the two of them holding hands. “Why didn’t you ring the bell? Did you want to stand out here forever?” she asked, joking. Zara smiled, a little embarrassed, and extended her hand. “Mama, this is Zara . . .,” Gregor introduced her. He spoke German with his mother, knowing that Zara understood the language. He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Levy,” Zara said. Gregor’s mother wrinkled her forehead. “Do me a favor; call me Esther.” She embraced the delicate girl in the blue kaftan. No wonder that her son had fallen so in love with her; she was something exceptional. Those enormous eyes and the pout – she looked a little like Audrey Hepburn. Yes, she was beautiful and so delicate, particularly when she stood next to her son.

Zara couldn’t stop looking at Gregor’s mother. Now it was clear where Gregor had gotten his good looks. She had never seen a more beautiful woman at that age. Esther had thick blonde hair just like his, and wore it in a knot at the nape of her neck; she had high cheek bones, and exceptionally blue eyes. Every woman in New York would envy her appearance. Her figure, too, was perfect.

There were lighted candles in the living room, and wine glasses were waiting on the table. Aaron Levy walked over to this daughter-in-law and had thoughts similar to his wife’s. He, of course, knew the whole story, and smiled at his son, who held Zara’s hand.

“So you’re the royal child,” Aaron said, laughing, and extended his hand. Zara laughed. “Well, yes, so to speak . . .” She gave Gregor a questioning look, but he just shrugged his shoulders. Aaron embraced his son and said to him in Hebrew, “She is pretty as a picture; the struggle has been worth it, from what I can see.” Gregor grinned. “Yes, it has been worth it.”

“So, you two, what are you whispering?” Esther chided her husband and son, while Zara brought in her presents. She gave the individual packages to Gregor’s father and mother.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Esther said, somewhat embarrassed, even though she was happy that Zara had brought them. “They’re wrapped so beautifully,” she said appreciatively. “What is in here?” Aaron asked his son in his direct way. Aaron shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I have no idea; Zara got them.” He looked at Zara, and she smiled. She was concerned that she had bought the right things because she hoped a little that his parents would like her. Or was it more than a little hope? Why was all of this now so important to her?

Esther went to get the appetizers, but Aaron couldn’t wait when it came to presents. Zara watched the tall, gaunt man as he ripped open the package like a little boy. His movements reminded her of Gregor.

Gregor had sat down next to Zara and smiled. She really was the perfect wife that he always wanted, he thought happily. His mother had opened her gift more carefully, folded the classic orange wrapping paper, and found a beautiful Hermes scarf inside. She thanked Zara sincerely, “It’s beautiful . . . and the pattern . . . it’s my favorite color, blue.”

Aaron was startled as he opened his package. It was heavy, weighing several pounds. “What is it?” Gregor asked, in anticipation. Aaron held the old book up for them to see. “That is . . .I’m speechless.” Zara smiled; she had found the perfect gift for a rabbi; she knew it. “So tell us what it is, an old book?” Gregor asked impatiently. Esther came back with the platter, and took a look. “It’s an old Talmud,” she said evenly. “Yes, but very old; it’s the second edition of the first printed Talmud from the year 1526. Where did you get this?” He shook his head. He had heard about this treasure, but had never seen it.

“I’d like to know that too,” Gregor said, and pulled a strand of Zara’s hair. “Relatives,” she said. “Relatives?” Esther put the salad on the table. “Some of my forefathers didn’t just murder people – they also collected,” she said ironically. Gregor poked Zara. “That was an unnecessary remark!” he grinned.

“It’s beautiful . . .” Aaron stroked the book’s cover tenderly. And over the course of the evening, he found out that this delicate girl was not only pretty, but also intelligent. Zara was pleased that Gregor’s parents welcomed her into the family although she was Christian. When she excused herself and left the table after dinner, Aaron said, “She’s intelligent and beautiful, so I’ll even accept the fact that she’s a Christian.” He laughed. Esther laughed, too. She agreed with her husband, and had to admit that she hadn’t expected her youngest son to bring home a Jewish wife. He was too obstinate, too different.

“You’re going to have beautiful children,” she said then. She wanted grandchildren from her youngest son, who resembled her late father so very much. Gregor furrowed his brow. “I don’t believe we will. Zara had an abortion at age fourteen, and since then she hasn’t been able to have children.” There was such contempt in his voice that it startled his parents. He hadn’t noticed that Zara had come back into the room during his remarks, and had stopped dead, rigid as a stone.

BOOK: Love under contract
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