Into the Lion's Den (79 page)

“That's not enough time! They need a crib, diapers, clothes, a doctor, toys, milk and who knows what
else!” I nearly shouted with him. He brings two babies home and has no idea of what to do? I thought he was the
responsible person here!

“Friederich will look for the nurses and they will make a list of what they need. We'll need three
according to the pediatrician Wagemann recommended. I was thinking to send them to the old nursery, where your
studio is. You can check on them as much as you want.”

“Don't give the babies to nannies! I want to be with them!”

“I'm not giving them away. They will look after them and you can be with them as much as you want, but
the sleepless nights are for them. It might be too much for your health my love, and we need you healthy and ready to
cope with the three of us.”

“I'm very happy. No, happy is not the right word. I could burst with joy.” I jumped to his neck and kissed
him till I heard a cough and quickly disentangled myself from him.

“Excuse me, sir. Has the young sir, taken his morning pills?” Friederich—who else?—said from the
entrance, carrying a small tray with a glass of water and my beloved medications. All of them. I sighed and took them.

After all, I have to be nice, obey the doctors, only for the babies.

We had breakfast together and Konrad told me that he had a present for me… A painting made by my
own mother, Cécile Dubois Strinberg. A private investigator had found it in Lille and it dated from 1978. It was an oil
of a young woman combing her chestnut hair by an old wooden window.

I was moved to see it. Nicholas Lefèbre had told me that my mother had been an artist without much
luck but I had never found a reference about her or a painting from her.

“How did you get it?”

“It was not easy. It belonged to a family who had gotten it as a present from one of your mother's Aunts
and didn't want to sell it. They did it only when the person told them that it was for her son. The investigator followed
the wills of your mother's aunts and discovered that these people had one of her works. It's a beautiful painting,
although it has not your mastery of technique.”

“I just love it. It's incredible to see it. Thank you so much! Did you meet her?”

“No, never. You were born in 1982 and by that time I had no contact with your family. I know that your
father was very sad after her passing, but nothing else. We were not friends.”

“My father loved her very much. He told me so. He also said that I had her sweet and peaceful nature.”

“Yes, fortunately you're nothing like him. He was an excellent lawyer, but we never had anything more
than a professional relationship.”

December 28th

London

“Boss is going to give me an ulcer!” Pavel Mikhailovich complained, collapsing on the kitchen chair.

“Give me a vodka, I do need one.”

Massaiev smirked as he took the bottle and poured a shot for the man. “Hard task?”

“No, chauffeur duties. Easy job. This morning, Irina, his secretary called me and told me that I had to pick up a “Stefania di Barberini at Heathrow from Rome at 5:45 p.m. and bring her to the house in Knightsbridge for dinner with the boss. I thought it was a mistake as the girl is new and I wrote Stefano di Barberini and waited there with the sign, standing like an idiot. At some point a brunette comes to me and shouts, very crossed that she's Stefania di Barberini to meet Mr. Karamazov. No one told me, we were playing again “Great Works of the Russian Literature”

again and I almost blew it up because she was a fucking woman!”

Massaiev chuckled at the mistake. “I got her Louis Vuitton's suitcase in the face and she started to run to the car. She was almost exploding when I told her to move her ass to the parking lot. I'm not a fucking chauffeur! I'm a group leader! Boss should send one of the newbies to pick up the whores!”

Massaiev sighed. 'So different that when Guntram was arriving! He was grateful that a car was coming for us and was never that rude to any of us.' “You might be a group leader, but this Stefania di Barberini is Lintorff's former favourite whore; ten years in the position. She got fired the minute the animal saw Guntram.”

“Yes, I remember him. Nice kid, and I was expecting someone in this line, but no. I had to drive a bossy, haughty bitch! Can you believe that she went to the back side of the car and waited for me to open her door?”

'Guntram would have never done that. The men were running by themselves to open the door for him.

He was always doing his best not to be a burden and treated the men with respect. I think I never heard a derogative remark from him to any of them. Only a few shouts with me at the end when he was at the limit,' Massaiev recalled dreamily.

“I drove the bitch here and if she was Lintorff's fling, no wonder he jumped on Guntram! She's old, haughty and rude. Do you think he will ever be back?”

“Boss is working on it. When do you have to return her?”

“After dinner, to her hotel.”

'With such a bad taste, Lintorff does not deserve to keep my angel for one minute longer!' Constantin thought once more while he used all his patience and coldness to keep his amiable façade of the “models” manager from Russia. 'I have to recover my Guntram before that miserable German ruins him more! In Rome he was terrified and almost shouted at me. Lintorff has completely ruined his training!'

“So Boris, will you tell me about your project in St. Petersburg?” Stefania said, fidgeting with her dinner in what was a clear proof of her deficient education in front of the Russian's eyes. He had enough and decided to go for business before he would literally kick the vulgar woman from his house. 'My angel would have never done something like this. It's disgusting and contemptuous to your host. No matter what was served, he never complained. I couldn't tell if he hated some food or not. I only know what he liked best.'

'Boris? Who gave you permission to speak to me like this?' “My name is Constantin Ivanovich Repin, madam. Boris Karamazov is one of my underlings and he does not need any help for running his agency. I would like to speak with you about a mutual acquaintance.”

“Whoever you are, this is outrageous! You brought me here with lies!”

“I like to keep my privacy, Miss Barberini. I'm a discreet man.”

“I'm leaving right now!” She shouted and rose from her chair.

“Very well, send my greetings to Konrad von Lintorff, if he ever again answers a call from you.”

Constantin smirked and secretly enjoyed her astonished face. “Now that I have your attention, I would like to discuss business with you.”

Stefania sat back and whispered: “I'm listening to you, sir.”

“Years ago someone said that some people preferred oysters and others snails. Lintorff always kept an open mind and preferred them both, especially if he could take them from some other people's table.”

'What is this crazy Russian telling me? I'm not into animals and much less those disgusting creatures!' “I think I don't follow you.”

'Forget about subtlety! I will have to draw pictures so she can understand!' “Madam, I'm aware that the Duke decided to transfer his attentions from you to a young artist named Guntram de Lisle.”

“It's not like that! I found him on the couch with the little…”

“Please, madam, let's do not be vulgar. We can discuss all this in a civilized way, without adjectives.”

Constantin would have never let her pronounce a word against his angel in his presence. Many had died for it.

“Perhaps you're not well aware of the circumstances of his change of heart.”

“Of course I am. His cousin Gertrud, a good friend of mine, told me everything. He brought the boy from Russia and kept him in his residence at Zurich, introducing him as his ward while he was still with me! The boy was the friend of a very rich man, but not rich enough as he traded him for Konrad!”

'Very unlikely but it serves my purposes.' “I'm the wealthy man from Russia. Guntram was living with me till Konrad von Lintorff took him away. I want him back with me and I'm willing to do everything to achieve my goals.”

“He's just a clever little whore!” 'Gay and cuckold. As good as it gets,' was Stefania's thought, doing her best to hide the contempt from her eyes. 'What's wrong with them? One blue eyed idiot makes dove eyes at them and both went crazy? I should have seen it much earlier! Lintorff never cared if I was with other men because he was using me to cover his own shit! He was not the idiot I thought!'

“Keep your opinions to yourself, madam,” Constantin growled and his dark eyes shone in a feral way, terrifying Stefania. “Do not compare Guntram with the likes of you. When Lintorff took him, he had just partly recovered from a serious accident and was very confused. Somehow, he blamed me for it and wanted to go away even if his health condition was very serious. He risked his own life when he left with Lintorff. He never was after your patron, madam. I'm convinced that Lintorff cornered Guntram till he accepted him. Tell me, was he in bed with him when he arrived to Switzerland?”

“I don't know. I went to a party once in Zurich in March, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. Lintorff told me he was in bed because he was sick. Later I saw the boy with him in Rome, in July, at San Capistrano and he insisted Konrad to go out with me,” Stefania confessed.

“Did they look like lovers? Women know such things immediately.”

“No, the boy was sitting next to him, but he was drawing and I thought that I was a fool to be jealous of him because he had no intentions or was competition for me.”

“There you have, Madam. Guntram had no idea of Lintorff's intentions. I know Guntram since he was eighteen years old and he never realised that I was after him till I kissed him. In a way, he was never competition for you because he was never playing against you. I would bet a million dollars that he even told Lintorff how beautiful you are.”

“Thank you,”

“I want to recover him, but I can't do it on my own. Lintorff even organised an exhibition in Berlin for him! He does it to hurt me because we are business adversaries. Guntram was the most important thing in my life and he took him away from me. The boy has no malice and I'm convinced that he believed each one of Lintorff's lies against me.”

“What do I get out of this? Lintorff will not return to me.” The mushy moment from the poor betrayed lover was too much for her patience.

“Of course not, but I can offer you my financial support for any project you might like to start; like a model agency of your own or a models school.

“What should I do? Tell Guntram about my time with Lintorff? He already suspects or knows about it,”

Stefania said disdainfully.

“Nothing like this. It will be helpless. I understand that there's one Art magazine,
Notes
d’Art, which
will publish a negative review on Guntram's exhibition. I would only like that you help me to contact the critic and spread the story to your many friends in the press.”

“Konrad hates the press!”

“I'm perfectly aware of this. If he has them around his neck, he will send Guntram away in no time.

Don't you want to make him suffer for all the humiliations he put you through? I have the resources and you the contacts. We could work fine together.”

“Will you get the boy out of my life?”

“He will return with me to St. Petersburg or London. He was living with my children before as I'm a widower now.”

“Oh, that's very bad for you,” Stefania made her best big sad eyes.

“Indeed, but let me tell you my story while we have coffee,” Constantin used his saddest voice of poor deceived, abandoned and betrayed man. 'Pearls to the swine, but the tart has to learn her part.'

January 15th 2006

Milan

Dudu Mountbatten felt horribly tired from carrying all these stupid complimentary bags from the many fashion shows she had been forced to attend since early morning. The Milan Fashion Week was almost like a marathon of people, shows, photographers, top models, designers, celebrities, old and new fortunes and her new blasted editor had fired her P.A. “to downsize costs; we are not selling as much as before! Who cares about three old uptight good for nothing royals? Brangelina sells magazines! Update yourself!”

Since her dismissal from “Hello” for writing that piece over the Monaco young princes, her career had been a slow descent into the hell of mediocrity, like that sorry “Stars and Stories” tabloid she was working for and suffering a stupid editor, just to see her name in the supermarkets' stands biweekly, next to the batteries packs. She sighed once more as today's brightest point had been the invitation for the baptism of Carlo Giaccomo Loiacono della Rovere, but the family didn't want to have photos of the event published. Where were the times when Marianne von Liechestein-Faubourg threw those incredible parties in Marbella? You had all the real jet set and always a new theme for each party. The Million Dollar Party had been her favourite so far and for such a good cause; helping poor children in Muslim countries. The Sultan of Brunei was attending it and people still spoke about it. The party had been a revolution in its own, no invitations; you only had to give a million dollars for charity and you were in: more than 300 guests!

She was a real lady and an interesting character; nothing like what was trendy now! Pop stars; reality show stars or someone who had been on TV or in the internet, but at seventy-three she had finally retired to her magnificent house in Paris. 'There are no properties like this any more,'

“Dudu, dear! What a pleasure to see you here!” A young woman's voice greeted her and Dudu turned to see the daughter of Mario Barberini, 'What was her name? She was very famous ten years ago!' Her older sister is Simonetta, and she must be Sandra', still doubtful, she smiled at the elegant and stunning tall brunette and returned her two kisses.

“I'm surprised to find you here, darling!” Dudu went for the safe: “How is your father? Still working so much?”