Love under contract (27 page)

Then she turned around and his eyes grew wide – the dress in the back was as low-cut as in the front and almost showed the beginning of her rear-end. It was breath-taking. Her high silver sandals matched and were adorned with the same gem-like stones as the hem of the dress.

She looked over her shoulder and grinned. Naturally she had chosen the dress with the intention that she would be noticed. It fell around her hips softly and ended just above her knees. Her hair was combed back severely into an artful ponytail and in her ears were the long diamond earrings with the aquamarines that Gregor had once given her and which matched the color of the dress perfectly.

“It’s cut very low,” Gregor remarked and raised his eyebrows skeptically, although he couldn’t resist touching her bare back and her shimmering skin. He breathed deeply; she smelled so good, too. Zara burst out laughing. “So that your uptight friends have something to look at!”

The men and a woman were waiting in front of the building in which the well-known Parisian rooftop restaurant was located. The individual diner there could expect to spend a minimum of $450 per person for dinner.

It wasn’t just business partners who were waiting for the black Mercedes to pull up; there were also two colleagues from the London branch and members of the Board who wanted to baptize their agreement here in Paris. It was, after all, a multi-billion dollar deal.

Peter Sanderson was the colleague from London and while taking a puff of his cigar, he asked his old French partner, Alphons Monet, “Do you know Levy’s wife?” Alphons didn’t hear him – in his thoughts he was with his mistress, a dark-skinned model, with whom he had spent the afternoon. “Pardon me?” he asked. “So do you know his wife?”  One of the clients, an industrialist as rich as Croesus who was accompanied by his wife, listened. He had thought that Gregor was gay and the many women were only escorts for the sake of appearance. But he couldn’t say that; it wouldn’t be politically correct. “Levy is married?” he asked, interested. His wife, a beautiful young woman about thirty years old, certainly almost twenty years younger than her husband, smiled. “Oh, I would be interested to hear about that too; wasn’t he involved with one of the Hollywood movie stars – Catherine McLean?” Her husband smiled; his wife knew her way around Hollywood gossip. “Well, we’ll know in a few minutes; it seems no one knows his wife, but he said on the telephone that he was bringing her.”

Alphons indicated the black Mercedes. “I think they’re here...” Peter threw his cigar away. The chauffeur opened the car door and Zara got out. Alphons looked over at her and said, “That’s the wrong car – the wrong woman; she’s a crazy aristocrat, unbelievably sexy, who has slept with half of Paris.” Wow, she looked better than in any photo. The dress was also a knock-out, he thought, and that low-cut back – God, every man would get weak.

The industrialist’s wife leaned over to Alphons. “Wow, that’s Zara Valois, I’ve seen photos of her. She was the best party hostess on the East Coast!” “Not only on the East Coast – also very popular in London and Paris, I would say, but very indecisive, if willing.” Alphons waved to the beautiful woman. “Oh, what is she doing here?” “She’s with Levy,” Peter said, and walked toward Gregor, extending his hand.

Gregor greeted the wife of the industrialist. He had already met her once before, briefly. Her name was Anne-Marie, which occurred to him at the last minute. “I’m sorry we’re late,” he apologized and looked for Zara, who was standing behind him. “Oh, this is my wife, Zara . . .” He had hardly said her name when Alphons interrupted him. “We know Madame, of course,” he smiled and kissed her hand, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her navel.

“My dear Gregor, you surprise me every time,” said the wealthy industrialist and patted Gregor on the shoulder. He had really thought that Gregor was homosexual. He wouldn’t have minded having this woman himself – aristocratic, young, beautiful. The absolute trophy wife.

Zara looked at Gregor in the elevator, her eyes blazing. The dress attracted a great deal of attention. For a short moment, she was concerned that it was too daring, but it certainly seemed to appeal to the men. Gregor’s brow furrowed, somewhat skeptically. Yes, she was beautiful and every man in this elevator was probably jealous of him for having this woman – he could tell by their glances. At the time that he signed the contract with her, this is what he had hoped. She was what every man wanted and desired, but now what others thought of her didn’t play a role any longer. Now he wanted her simply because he loved her, her laughter, even her craziness – okay, that not so much.

He reached for her hand, squeezed it, and she looked at him with her green cat’s eyes and smiled softly. She was crazy, but she was still wearing the wedding band.

They had a view of Paris at night from the beautiful terrace. Soft music played in the background and they sat down at the large round, festively set table.

The maître de came to the table and greeted Zara first, with a bow, which amused Peter. “Madame, what an honor. I didn’t know that you were here too. Your father is sitting over there. Zara looked at Gregor. Apparently her father was here with his blond bimbo. The evening could only get better.

Anne-Marie giggled softly. That was just like in the movies or in a romance novel, she thought.

“Champagne? We have your label, Madame,” a waiter offered. Gregor nodded. “Yes, bring her label for Madame,” he responded instead of Zara, albeit with a mocking undertone.

“My dear, you have a Champagne firm?” Zara could hardly keep from laughing and looked the other way. Gregor poked her under the table, and she said quickly, “It carries my family name, but strictly speaking the wine cellars belong to Gregor.” At the time that they were in financial difficulty, Gregor had bought them. “I didn’t know that you know your way around Champagne, Levy...” Gregor shrugged his shoulders, “Only as a hobby; the firm is administered by professionals; I don’t get involved on a daily basis.” He didn’t want to be reminded of the time when she went behind his back, only to hurt him. He still didn’t know why she had done it.

The Champagne came and after a toast, the recitation of the recommendations from the menu, and ordering dinner, Zara said, “I have to say hello to my father; please excuse me...” She got up and left the table.

“So, and now my friend, tell me where you found this wife,” said the industrialist, blinking his eyes and leaning toward Gregor. “In New York; she sued me, I married her.” Everyone laughed. It was thought to be a joke, but actually it was essentially true. “Oh, Madame Valois is an attorney?” Beautiful and smart, this was getting ever hotter. One of the industrialists secretly wondered how much money it had taken to reel her in. Perhaps he could buy her? They were all available for money.

Gregor could see the table in the other corner where Zara’s father was sitting with his blonde wife and baby, Zara’s half-sister. Peter followed his glance. “Who is the blonde woman, her sister?” Gregor laughed aloud; he had also once had the same impression.  Alphons answered on Gregor’s behalf, “His wife, Zara’s stepmother. The old gentleman prefers young women, that is to say, very young women.” “Oh, I’m sorry...” Peter was a little embarrassed. These degenerate aristocrats and their extravagances; it was the same in every country. “You don’t have to be sorry,” Gregor said dryly and took a sip of the Champagne. “He had to sacrifice his career as a politician because of it, because he was fond of schoolgirls.”

Zara greeted her father with an embrace and also kissed his wife, Christine, quickly. “What a surprise,” Philipp said and looked at his daughter. The dress is really cut low, he thought, and saw the diamond jewelry. “Beautiful jewels.” He looked past her. “Isn’t that Levy?” he asked. Zara leaned over to kiss the baby, Coralie. “Hello, my little one,” Zara said. “She screams all the time, Christine sighed. Zara looked at Christine. “That’s what happens with babies,” she said quickly and stroked the child’s cheek. How soft such a baby was, and how innocent. Poor child; her parents’ marriage has a “use by” date. “How are you both?” It was more a polite question than sincere interest. “Well, thank you, and you?” “Good. I’ll be going to New York again in September.” Philipp wrinkled his brow and laid his napkin aside. “With Levy?” He had an inkling. “Yes, with Gregor. He is also in New York.” “Please don’t marry again, once was enough, really,” her father begged her and thought about Alessandro. “Father, it’s been quite a while since then, and my parents haven’t been a very good example in this regard.” Where did her father get the nerve to give her advice when he was married to a woman who was hardly older than his own daughter, and who continuously had affairs during his marriage with young girls!? She looked at her hand with the diamond ring fleetingly; this would be her last marriage, she swore to herself; she didn’t want to end up like her parents. “Have a nice evening.” She kissed the baby and said good-night.

Philipp watched her go and sighed. “She probably would also like to have a child,” Christine said without thinking. Philipp looked at his young wife. “Could be, but she can’t have any children.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” Christine was truly sorry for Zara; although she wasn’t the brightest, she had a big heart, and she had always admired Zara.

Zara returned to her table; in the meantime, the first appetizer and the accompanying wine had been served, and everyone was waiting for Zara.

“So how is your father?” Alphons asked between courses. “Thank you, well.” “Is it a boy or a girl?” Anne-Marie asked. “A girl.” Zara smiled and Gregor would have liked to have been one of the biblical forefathers who could bring about miracles. He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

Peter found these gestures touching and determined that Gregor was truly in love with this blueblood. He had never expected it of Gregor to be open with such feelings; he had always considered him to be cold and calculating. “Now, you’ll certainly want children too?” Anne-Marie inquired. They would surely have beautiful children. She looked at Gregor and had to admit that she had never seen such a beautiful man up close, such an unblemished face, not the smallest unevenness, and hardly a single wrinkle, despite his age. He looked like a picture that had been painted – starting with the eyes – actually too beautiful for a man.

Zara was silent, but again and again, she felt a pain in her chest, above all when she had Coralie with her from time to time. Gregor said curtly, “I don’t think so. One can be happy without children, too.” Zara threw a glance in his direction that he couldn’t read. She knew he didn’t mean that and had said it only because of her, but she was grateful for it, so that she could keep her secret to herself. Alphons laughed; his thoughts were on the monthly payments that his first wife received, and on his children and the fights that had ensued about them. “Believe me, you’re right about that. Fleeting pleasure, decades of anger!?”  Everyone laughed politely.

After dessert, Peter asked, “So, what should we do now? The night has just begun...” Gregor leaned back and looked at Zara. “Zara has suggested a club, but I have to warn you, in case it’s not to our taste,” he said, hoping for the best. Zara smiled. “Gregor thinks I’m going to take you to a den of iniquity.” Peter snorted with laughter. “Well, I wouldn’t have anything against that.. ” Zara nodded and grinned at Gregor, who shrugged his shoulders in resignation.

As they were on their way to the address that Zara had given them, he said only, “I hope this won’t be embarrassing for your sake.” Zara embraced him, kissed him gently on the mouth, and her hand was suddenly between his legs. “Zara, there’s a chauffeur up front there!” She grinned and shrugged her shoulders indifferently and whispered in his ear, “Then you have to be quiet!” She bent down and unzipped his trousers and her hand was on his penis. Gregor sighed and his fingers dug into the leather of the Mercedes. “Zara, that is not a good idea.” “Yes, it is,” she murmured. Her mouth closed around his penis and Gregor hoped that the chauffeur wouldn’t notice anything or stop too long at a red light, since the windows weren’t even tinted.

The chauffeur drove around the block an extra time at Gregor’s request, which he made in a hoarse voice. The others were already waiting when the two got out of the car.

The industrialist watched them come toward him and knew immediately that they had had sex in the car; he was familiar with the expression on Zara’s face. How he envied Gregor for this woman. They walked to the front of the queue, to the broad-shouldered bouncer, who immediately recognized Zara and allowed her to enter with her guests.

The entire club was bathed in blue light – sculpted ice figures were everywhere and smoke permeated the air. Most of the guests and personnel were dressed in a turquoise color similar to the one that Zara had on.

The music was a mixture of funk and house, and the clientele was composed of models, dancers, actresses, but also the young elite.

Zara hugged countless people, kisses were exchanged and Gregor got a table just off the dance floor, which had a view of the dancers.

A beautiful black woman served cocktails. Zara briefly sat on Gregor’s lap, and he whispered quietly, “It seems to be alright here, but please, no drugs, I’m warning you!” Zara laughed at how conservative he was and gave him a kiss.

In half an hour the club was full to bursting; everyone who was hip in Paris was here, and even Gregor’s guests seemed to be having a good time, and how.

Zara had disappeared for a while. She was in the middle of the dancing hordes and loved to dance. After a while she came to sit with Gregor, the beautiful waitress brought her a whiskey without waiting to be asked, and she drank it down in one gulp. Gregor gave her a nasty look.

“Don’t be so uptight,” she said to him. “Come dance with me!” She grabbed his shirt-sleeve – he had already shed his suit jacket and tie in the heat – and he couldn’t rid himself of the suspicion that Zara had not only drunk the whiskey. She seemed completely wound up, her pupils were enormous and her eyes glinted strangely. They were playing a slow song and Gregor asked her, “Did you take something?” He lifted her chin and looked at her eyes. Zara laughed. “My God, you’re worse than my father...” But he was so angry, so furious, that he would have rather carried her from the dance floor then and there and taken her home.