Into the Lion's Den (62 page)

“He's my gift from God and I will do all what's within my power to keep him. I passed many of the trials He set for me and this is my reward. I will not let anything or anyone to come between us. Is that understood? He truly loves me for myself.”

“Konrad, he is very sick. Could you survive it if the worst happens? I worry for you also.”

“He's getting better, the doctor said it.” Konrad said with a lump in his throat. “I'll be very careful with him because I don't want to lose him. These months with him have been truly blissful for me. If the Lord decides to take him from me, I will live the rest of my life remembering the time he has granted me with him. I've decided to take that risk. If I were to spend only a month with him, then my life would have not been a total waste.”

August 12th, 2005

Sylt.

Konrad and I have been for almost two weeks in Sylt. Honestly, I've never heard about this place before
but it used to be (and still is) the favourite holidays spot for the wealthy and noble Germans. It's an island, very quiet
where we are, a turn of the century villa with eight bedrooms and a private beach. I love the place as it's lonesome
but haunting at the same place. The large beach with the stormy sea. I've been sketching most of the time, well, when I
was not with Konrad, or painting with watercolours in the veranda. The light and weather are very nice.

Friederich also came along and he took care to “keep things orderly”. Translation; he oversees (really!)
that Konrad keeps distance from me after one night of passion. How can he tell if I've done something? We are not
noisy! Two days, minimum.

I'm so happy with Konrad! He makes me feel great like never before. It's not just his kisses or the way he
looks at me (that certainly helps too) but how he's always aware of my needs and I'm just happy to make him smile or
laugh. He's not a cold man, as he likes to pretend, he's generous and in need of being loved. Sometimes I believe that
when he comes with his papers and sits next to me, just to read them and sighs dejectedly, he does it in order to get a
kiss and a hug in my effort to comfort him. I'm more than aware that he can fight to get his way on his own, but he
seems to love when he's hugged, petted and comforted like a child.

But he also behaves like a pig sometimes. A real pig.

Two days ago he wanted to attend the Polo Masters Series in Keitum, on the north part of the island.

Elegant club, full with noble and rich people, all of them on first name basis. I'm glad to be called Guntram—never
thought I would say that—because most of the men were called Walter, Karl, Heinrich or Wilhelm. Konrad introduced
to many, most of them bankers or industrialists coming to him with a humble attitude. I kept myself quiet because
being introduced as “my companion” to most people or “my consort” to some of them, who bowed their heads, was a
bit shocking. Do they all have to look at my hand to check the griffin's seal? I mean, Constantin always introduced me
by my name with a “fellow of my foundation” if he deemed necessary and everybody knew I was his boyfriend.

After lunch, buffet in a tent, I had enough and scurried myself toward the terraces for a bit of peace.

Konrad was busy speaking in German with four men. I started to draw, enjoying the peace as most people were still
eating.

Just like that I felt someone sitting next to me and peering over my shoulder to see what I was drawing. I
hate onlookers! I have no problems with people coming and watching your things or when they ask you something,
but this is very bothersome. Truly. I threw a dirty look at the offender, a guy in his mid-thirties, also “elegant sport”

dressed (wonder if you could come here with a tracksuit) blond with blue eyes, nothing out of the ordinary. He said:

“Entschuldigung…” and a long speech totally incomprehensible for me.

“I'm sorry, but I don't speak German.”

“Oh, I just wanted to apologise if I disturbed you. I have an Art Gallery in Berlin. I was asking you if
you do it professionally. Those sketches are very good.”

“I used to but I'm not presenting anything at the moment.” I said.

“Andreas Volcker, how do you do?” he said and extended his hand.

“Guntram de Lisle, pleased to meet you.”

“It can't be! Are you really Guntram de Lisle? I saw your exhibition in London last summer! I bought
two paintings, one charcoal with a worker's hands and an oil of three children in a slum. I've been trying to contact
you since last October but Robertson told me you had a car accident and moved to Russia, not painting any longer.

It's incredible that I find you here, in the middle of the champagne drinker’s tribe!”

I laughed because the last sentence saved me from having a nervous breakdown at the mention of my
past. “No, I'm not painting much at the moment.”

“But your sketches are very good. I saw a few more things from you and they were much better than
your exhibition, more mature and intense. Dark, but hypnotic. Nothing like before.”

“It was a near death experience, Mr. Volcker,” I whispered.

“I'm sorry to hear that. Are you not painting at all? Who's your manager now? Robertson plans to retire
next December. He's eighty-three now and very tired of all.”

“I'm studying with Rudolf Ostermann. He says he's my manager now and sold one or two paintings from
me. I'm not sure because he never tells me a thing. One thing that was completely hideous was sold without my
consent!”

“Sometimes you have to be hard with your artists!” He chuckled. “I will call him in September and ask
if he wants to lend me some of your pieces for a collective exhibition I'm planning for December. All young but good
artists. Here is my card.” He told me and gave me the thing. I took and kept it in my sketch pad. “Do you want to
have dinner with me?”

Before I could tell him no, Konrad appeared out of nowhere and politely shouted “We have plans for
tonight, Mr…”

“Volcker, from Volcker Industries. Mr…”

“Lintorff.” Wow, he's impressive with one word sentences and he was looking really pissed off that the
man was speaking with me.

“As I was telling Guntram, I would like to have his work in an exhibition in Berlin, at Alexanderplatz.”

“In that case you should contact Mr. de Lisle's manager, Rudolf Ostermann. He will decide if the place
is appropriate for him.” Konrad barked. OK, one, he does not like familiarity of any kind and two, it seems he decides
for me. “Let's go, Guntram. It's too sunny for you.”

Dilemma: Fight with your love in front of most of Germany's high society and keep your ground and
independence or keep your mouth shut till you're home? Second option.

“Good-bye, Andreas.”

“Good-bye, write to me and send me some photos of your work.”

“All right, I will.” That should give Konrad an idea of my views on the matter.

We went back to the car he was using. A monster Audi Q7. He was almost about to explode. Why? I did
nothing wrong. He was driving and fuming at the same time. He's going to have a heart attack before I if he persists
in his attitude.

“Konrad?”

“What?”

“Why are you so worked up? The man just offered me a job. At some point I should start to work again. I
can't live all my life depending on you. He also bought two of my paintings at Robertson's. He says he wanted to
contact me but I didn't know till today.”

“I don't like adventurers near you! You should have not spoken with him!”

“What am I supposed to do if a man, in a good place, introduces himself as an Art dealer; I have his
card here, and tells me that he knows me?”

“You were flirting with him! I saw him looking at you at lunch time!”

“Certainly, you don't need glasses! I didn't see him at all! I was doing my best not to fall asleep in front
of the old dinosaur making a list of all his diseases and comparing medications with me!”

“That was the Baron!”

“Boring nevertheless!”

“All right, next time, you stay at home!”

“I'm sorry but I do not know knitting,” I retorted sarcastically and really crossed with him.

“Then, paint!” He shouted at me. “You were flirting with that man like a slut! Dinner? Where, in a
hotel?”

“You have a dirty mind indeed! You go on business dinners all the time and I say nothing! Heck, you
disappear for weeks and I say nothing. Don't judge me by your own deeds!” I roared, “You love to use the word
whore with me. If I'm one, why the hell did you give me your ring?”

He didn't answer me and focused on the driving. I was furious and panting from the shouting exercise.

Only one man in my life before and I'm the whore from Babylon! It's really not my problem if both of them have some
self confidences issues! When he parked in front of the villa, I bolted out of the car and went directly to sit in one of
those chairs on the beach, to watch the sea and calm myself down.

An hour later, I saw Konrad coming and sitting next to me. “I'm sorry for my outburst, kitten. It was
totally out of place. It's not your fault if there are so many pricks around.”

“Konrad, I swear I did nothing to entice the man. He came out of nowhere,” I sighed.

“Maus, I know it. You have no idea how beautiful you are. Men and women throw themselves at your
feet and I went mad with jealousy. My former lover was almost as good looking as you are and was getting laid with
every woman or man that was passing around, just to hurt me. I saw that person there and I lost my temper. Can you
forgive me?”

“If it was so bad for you, why did you stay with him?”

“I don't know. I used to believe that I loved him but I see now that it wasn't real love, just infatuation and
lust mixed together. He was like a drug I needed to posses. You're nothing like him. It's not the first time I see people
drooling around you but you never notice them nor insinuate yourself. Nothing and I'm very grateful for it.”

“Konrad, I love you despite all. In fact, the first time I saw you in London, I thought ‘the devil is not bad
looking at all’. You are quite hot yourself.” My resentment melted at his explanation.

“Me, hot? People say that I'm an iceberg!” He chortled but wore a sad expression in his eyes.

“Yes, you're tall but not that much,” I smiled and gave him a light kiss and he kissed me back like the
volcano he is, leaving me breathless. “If you're an iceberg, I don't want to know what is hot for them!” I panted,
trying to recover myself. He returned my smile, looking very proud and I laughed finding him once more terribly
charming and sexy. We finished the conversation in the bedroom.

“Kitten,” Konrad did his best to shake Guntram awake. “It's almost eight. You must have dinner and take your pills.”

“Five minutes more,” Guntram mumbled, hiding himself under the covers, spent after making love the whole afternoon.

“You said that an hour ago. Come, be nice and get out of the bed, please. I want to take you out. There's a concert and we could try the new restaurant you saw yesterday.”

“Not tonight, I'm very tired after it,” Guntram whined.

“Guntram, you can't spend your holidays in bed with me!” Konrad said falsely shocked.

“Why not? I have no objections. The sound of the sea, it's getting colder outside and here is warm…”

“Guntram! GET OUT!”

“All right, you miss it.”

“Informal kitten, no need to wear a tie.”

Still mumbling his discomfort for being thrown out of the bed and forced to dress again, this time in beige trousers, light blue shirt and a dark brown jersey, the young man did his best to put an amiable face the minute Konrad returned to the room. “Take a light jacket, it's windy.”

When Konrad started the car, he jovially said; “we're having dinner with Albert and Armin, the
Strolch—

that's how we call him—; he'll move with us upon our return to Zurich. I had enough of his loafing and he should start to work immediately under Michael Dähler's direction.”

Guntram suppressed a groan at the news that his probably romantic dinner had been turned into a family-business one. “Poor Armin, don't you let him enjoy his holidays? He was supposed to move in mid September!”

“I know, but it will be better if he starts to get used to our lifestyle and learns some manners from you.”

“Konrad, with all due respect, I'm a lousy chaperone.”

“You always know your place and he should learn it too.”

“What am I going to tell him? He already thinks I'm a dork, always painting and staying at home! At least you could let him invite some young people, like Ferdinand's children!”

“Karl Otto is away in Harvard and Johannes is in the Max Planck Institute.”

“The girl, what was her name? The tall blonde. Marie Christine!”

“It's Marie Amélie, Guntram and the answer is no.”

he chuckled and Konrad fulminated him with his eyes. “Save me the terror show, Konrad. You'll need all your strength to deal with Armin.”