Love under contract (10 page)

“Let me go immediately, do you want a scandal?!” That didn’t seem to matter at all to Robert at that moment; he had really had too much to drink and he wanted revenge. When Zara simply sent him his engagement ring back by messenger, he had become the laughing stock of the entire East Coast. The story made the newspapers, which carried headlines such as “Dispatched!” and “Not So Perfect After All!”  Everyone was laughing at him.

Zara kicked him in the shins, and he screamed loudly. The bitch! She was kicking in every direction, like a maniac.

“Come on, Robert, let her go!” Zara suddenly heard a familiar voice and over Robert’s shoulder, saw Gregor standing there. What was he doing here?  Not that she wasn’t happy that someone – anyone – was here to help her at this moment, but why him? Zara had to suppress a smile. How fitting that the conquering hero appears just in time to save the weak little princess.

Robert released her quickly and half-turned toward Gregor.  “Don’t get involved in this; I’m collecting only what I’m entitled to!” Gregor stood there in his tuxedo, his hands in his pockets and said coolly, “You’re both alike; you used her for your political reputation in exactly the same way, so forget it and go!” His German accent was particularly strong as he said this, which emphasized the meaning of his words.

Gregor saw Zara’s large round eyes and also saw her red cheek; he was furious and would have liked to punch Robert in the face himself.

She had deserved the slap, he decided, and pursing his lips, he sighed.

Robert did, in fact, step back to look at Zara. “We’re not done yet!” he shouted, but nonetheless he headed to the door and disappeared into the car waiting in front of the hotel.

Gregor continued to stand there in front of Zara, who straightened her dress and her hairdo. She didn’t say anything. Her hair had become loose and the curls fell over her shoulders. Robert fit well into the game but he could have spared himself the slap, Zara thought briefly and stroked her burning cheek.

Gregor looked at Zara calmly. “Is everything alright?” She just nodded. “Thank you,” she said then – and it wasn’t easy for her. “I’ll take you home,” he offered.

“That won’t be necessary,” Zara responded quickly, although of course she wanted him to – it was exactly what she wanted, but she didn’t want to make it that easy for him.

“I won’t bite, and I’m going almost the exact same way.” He knew where she lived, after all.

She nodded. What else could she say?

Acting the gentleman that he could be, he brought her the floor-length silk evening coat that matched her dress and placed it on her bare shoulders.

His limousine waited in front of the hotel and the chauffeur opened the door for her; Gregor sat down beside her, and the car drove away.

As they drove through Soho and they passed his house, she looked at him. She had been quiet up ‘til now, but had been playing with a large diamond ring on her right hand.

“You live here, right?” He nodded. “Why?” “Oh, I wanted to rent an apartment there but then learned that a banker had bought the entire house.” She sighed and remembered the stone- and wood-floors. “I was the banker . . . and believe me, the house was a fixer-upper,” he said. Then, on the spur of the moment, it occurred to him to ask: “Would you like to see it?!” He knew that Zara was curious. She looked at him, questioningly. “Yes, if it’s no trouble?!” she said, a little unsure of herself. He leaned forward and told the driver to turn around.

The car stopped in front of the stone house, the chauffeur opened the door and helped Zara step out onto the dark, quiet street. There were small trees in stone urns on the steps to the entrance door.

He probably has a housekeeper, Zara thought.

She noticed that the house was equipped with cameras and a security lock. Not unusual for New York.

Gregor opened the door and let Zara enter; she walked past him and looked around.

The foyer was now much larger and brighter; he had the contractors break through the roof and insert skylights, which allowed light to enter from above during the day. There was a furniture grouping upholstered in white, with brown accent pillows, in the enlarged entry area; everything was as Zara had imagined.  She was more than disconcerted and kept quiet. She would have done nothing differently than he, or his interior designer, had done.

He went ahead and led her through the entire house in silence – on the last floor there was also a large living room with an enormous terrace overlooking the courtyard – and here the stone flooring was replaced with old, dark brown wood.

“So?” he asked her, and sat down in a chair, watching her as she looked through the large glass doors onto the terrace, into the darkness. She had said nothing so far; did the house appeal to her? He had no idea.

“I was so impressed by the stone- and wood-floors,” she finally said and looked at him briefly, as he sat there, observing her in the semi-darkness, with the fire in the fireplace the only illumination. She had to admit that her heart beat faster, and that she was nervous because she was alone with him. He exuded sex – and she hadn’t had any for a really long time, she thought, frustrated. “That’s also why I wanted the house,” he said, and placed his hand on the arm of the chair, supporting himself. “You snatched the apartment away from me,” she said, smiling slightly. He was apparently often quicker than she.

She saw that a few rooms were empty; the house was very large. “It’s very large for one person,” she commented. She wondered silently whether he was still with Catherine. Everything was so neat, so clean, so perfect, it didn’t seem lived in.

“That could change,” he said pensively and she looked at him, disconcerted. Was he planning to live here with someone in the near future? Was he being direct, or did she come too late? She would certainly find out presently.

In her tight, long dress, with her long curls, she seemed so fragile in the ray of light from the fireplace, like a celestial being. “She belongs in this house; no other woman belongs here,” he thought, and then said something that he had already had on his mind for a very long time but had never uttered.

“Marry me!” He could just as soon have said, “Jump out the window” or “Tomorrow the world will end” – for the effect it had on Zara.

Zara’s mouth fell open and she stared at him, aghast. At first she thought she had misheard. She saw him sitting there, his head inclined to the side, his legs crossed, calmly looking at her.

“I believe I just misheard,” she said slowly. “I don’t think so, I’ll be happy to repeat myself: marry me!” It sounded almost like an order. Zara felt a shudder running down her spine. Was he serious, or what was he doing? She shook her head, still flabbergasted. “What makes you think of something like that? I’m a conceited aristocrat to you, and I don’t love you; I don’t even know you!” This couldn’t be happening, it was like a dream from which she couldn’t wake up. Such an idea had never occurred to her and she had had her share of crazy ideas about him in the last few years. But marriage? Actually, one marriage was quite enough for her, and she didn’t plan to marry again. She didn’t want to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

“That may all be true, but I have serious doubts as to whether love is the right prerequisite for marriage,” he said, quite unruffled. She hadn’t said no right away, but he didn’t really expect her to; she was extraordinary, and he would simply buy her; everything had its price. In addition, even if she didn’t love him now, she was more perfect than any other woman; she would consider their relationship fully from a rational standpoint and eventually, at some point, she would also grow to love him.

“Why should I marry you then?” Zara asked, curious. “Because you’ll get something that you want,” he said. This was how he judged her to be.

She turned around and looked out at the terrace again. Her cheeks were hot; what could he offer her? What she wanted – she could only think of one thing -- would that be it?

“And what will that be?” she asked. He smiled. “You know exactly what – for example, the shares.”
He really wanted to sign the stocks over to her, those that he had obtained by devious means at that time? She dug her nails into the palm of her hand. Was it always about money with him? Well, with money she could perhaps strike out at him – but could she really hurt him? “And what is it that you want in exchange?” she asked after a long silent pause. She turned around and faced him again, trying to hide her nervousness. “You – completely,” he said seriously. Zara broke out in goose-flesh. Faust must have had similar feelings when he sold his soul to the devil. Well, he would have to wait a while. She wasn’t crazy; she would keep him in suspense.

“I think I’d better go,” she said smoothly and reached for her coat, which lay draped over a chair. Gregor stood up, picked up the coat and laid it across her shoulders. She couldn’t make it that easy for him.

He stood close behind her, and saw the goose-bumps on her bare arms; he smelled her perfume, he felt her presence to his fingertips. “The car will take you home; think about it.” She looked up into his eyes. It was all so unreal. She had to go, she couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t breathe, she had to get outside. This man had an unbelievable power of attraction. He held her fast by the shoulders for a few seconds.

“You’re crazy!” she said and tore herself away, running down the staircase. The hem of her silk dress and the heels of her shoes broke the stillness in the house.

“Zara!” he shouted after her from above. Having arrived at the bottom of the stairs, she looked up and saw him standing there – in the semi-darkness. “I know you will do it!” he shouted, laughing, and his laughter echoed eerily throughout the entire house. My God, she thought, this is like a bad play.

Gregor continued to sit in front of the fireplace for a long time and thought of her. He thought about the fact that he had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her, especially because she seemed so unattainable, so cold, so arrogant; he wanted to – and he became frightened at the word – own her. But it wasn’t only that. She was the perfect hostess, she was always perfectly dressed at every event, she was intelligent and, he smiled at the thought, at some point she would be the perfect mother.

He had arranged for her new job because he wanted her to remain here and he would also see to it that her new firm would work for LHM, so that he could keep her near. She would say “yes,” – he had this feeling – and he could always rely on that.

In the following days, Zara often thought about that evening, and she pondered how she should plan her next steps.

“Miss Valois . . .?” She was staring so intently at some contract documents that she hadn’t noticed that her new boss had come into her office and was standing in front of her. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear you,” she said.  He was the oldest partner, Darren Spell, one of the founders of the firm; he was also a law professor at Columbia University, a man around fifty, with thick graying hair, tall with wide shoulders. His ties never matched his shirts, Zara noticed again, as she gave him the once-over.

He sat down in the leather chair across from her.  “I’m happy that you’ve settled in so well,” he said, leaning back and crossing his legs. She’s really a pretty thing, he thought. Not only had he gotten a good young lawyer, but as it looked right now, also a large new client. He didn’t rule out that there was a connection between the two – there had to be. Spell didn’t believe in coincidences, and hadn’t for a long time now.

“It’s fun for me – particularly since I have the chance to be in Paris quite often,” Zara smiled. “Good. Then you’ll be happy to know that from tomorrow on, together with our French partners, you’ll be in charge of LHM Europe.” Zara swallowed. He expected a little more enthusiasm. LHM – Gregor Levy, she thought. Should she tell her new boss that she couldn’t represent the new client properly because she had a personal aversion to the CEO? No, she better keep quiet; it would be unprofessional, and after all, this was about her career – perhaps an opportunity to advance another step. And did she really hate him?

“And what will the work consist of, actually? I have quite a bit to do with the Anacord case at the moment; perhaps someone else should take it on?” she asked, and hoped it wouldn’t be obvious that she didn’t want to work on the LHM account. “Acquisitions, contracts, the usual – never fear. You’ll have support from the Paris office.” Darren raised his eyebrows and looked at her critically. Did she not want to work on this case, and why not?

He straightened his jacket and got up. “Oh, one more thing: the client wishes that you will continue to work on the account in the future. Anacord’s case is coming to a close, so that should not be a problem for you,” he said, and his voice sounded sharper, as he intended.

Every firm in America would have been overjoyed to gain a client like LHM – and he certainly didn’t want to disappoint such a client when he had been told that the CEO had personally requested Miss Valois. If nothing else, she’d be assigned to nothing but making copies of the records, but under no circumstances would the client be upset. The CEO, Gregor Levy, had met with Darren several times in the meantime. Everyone at the branch knew that Levy was also friendly with Goodmann, Zara’s former boss. What kind of interest did Levy have in the little Frenchwoman that would cause him to change legal firms, Darren Spell asked himself.

Zara was angry again – Gregor Levy really did seem to want to control everything, but she wouldn’t let on that anything bothered her, not at all. One couldn’t always choose one’s clients – even Gregor Levy.

She didn’t expect to see Gregor again a week later in Paris. On a beautiful, sunny day she entered the LHM Building to meet Nevill, the French partner of the legal firm Spell & Partners. She had spent half the night looking through existing contracts that the new candidate for a take-over had transacted with various other firms.  In between, her mother had called to tell her that she wanted to meet her in Paris that evening. She didn’t want to tell her why on the telephone.