Opposing Forces (10 page)

“I’m heading back to Bern shortly,” he grunted at his wife before heading out into the hallway.

“Do say hello to Josephine,” Bettina smiled brightly, following him into the hall.  “Before you go, I’ll give you a copy of the papers Michael is filing tomorrow.”

“Can we not drop this ridiculous charade?” Hubert sighed in frustration.  “We both know you’re not going to see this through.”

“On the contrary, Senator, nothing will give me more pleasure than taking you to the cleaners for your gross infidelity.  But look on the bright side, you’ll be free to fuck whoever you want.”

“Grundbergs don’t divorce.”

“This generation does.”

Hubert watched her stalk back into the kitchen to talk to Sabina.  He was starting to really hate the shrew.  Deep down he still did not think she had the nerve to divorce him. But she was right about one thing, he no longer needed to be quite so discreet over his affair with Jacqueline. And he was planning on having a surfeit of great sex that evening whilst his wife remained alone and unfulfilled.

Maisie was feeling decidedly nervous.  Steffen was due to pick her up shortly for their dinner and she had no idea what to wear.  She hadn’t a clue what he had planned, just that it wasn’t formal. She suspected the Chief of Police didn’t wear jeans.  Finally she selected a simple light blue shift dress, that was neither formal nor too casual, and a cream pair of ballet pumps.  Her hair was tamed with a simple scarf.

She was glad Julianne was not at home because her friend might have wanted an explanation for her state of nerves.  She could not give one.  The Police Chief was undoubtedly an attractive man, but that was where it ended.  They had nothing in common; he had the charisma of a lump of ice.  If that was really the case, she should not feel quite so conflicted.

The buzzer made her jump.  She let him in the building front door and waited for him to reach the fourth floor.

His presence seemed to fill the large entrance hall to her apartment.  He was dressed in navy trousers and a white shirt.  Simple but effective.  His grey eyes rested on her appreciatively. 

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, just need to grab my handbag.”

Steffen watched her scurry off back to her room.  She really did look stunning, yet so English at the same time.  He was amazed there was any Swiss blood in her at all.

His car and driver were waiting in the courtyard.  She slipped elegantly into the back seat, trying to reveal as little leg as possible.  Steffen was pleased with the shot he got.

“Do you always have someone drive you?” Maisie asked.

“More often than not, yes.  I can work strange hours, get called out at odd times of the evening, so it helps to have someone who is fit to drive.”

She stared out the window as the car made its way through the city.  “Where are we headed?”

“There is a little restaurant on the lake front just outside Pully that I am particularly fond of.  I thought you might prefer to go there rather than the glitz of Chef Girardez where the press are just waiting to photograph celebrities or notorious people.”

“This restaurant sound just perfect.” Maisie began to wonder whether she had made a dreadful mistake agreeing to the dinner as Steffen had made it abundantly clear he did not really want to be seen in public with her.

The car pulled down an unmarked road which eventually opened up into a little car park.  They walked along a narrow pathway to a small restaurant which had a beautiful terrace overlooking the lake.

“It’s stunning,” she breathed.  All the time she had lived in Lausanne, she had been completely oblivious to this place.

Steffen smiled. “I hoped you’d like it.”

The owner appeared and greeted Steffen warmly. “Chief Grundberg, a pleasure to see you again.  I have your table as requested.”  He showed them to a table right on the water’s edge.  Steffen poured her a glass of St Saphorin, a local white wine. 

“I hope you like the wine. I chose it as it shouldn’t show too much on my shirt,” his eyes twinkled.

Maisie could feel the colour rising in her cheeks.  “It was an accident and well you know it.”

He grinned in response, remembering how it felt to have Maisie undress him, well his top half anyway.

A waiter appeared with the menu. 

“The menu is not extensive but the food is delicious,” Steffen advised her.

“Do you bring many of your women here?” Maisie couldn’t resist asking.

Steffen rested his grey eyes on her.  “The women I go out with would not enjoy such a rural location.  They would prefer the buzz of Chez Girardez.”

It felt really weird sitting opposite him in this romantic setting.  “I have to ask, Steffen. What are you hoping to get from this dinner?”

He twirled the wine glass between his fingers.  “I can usually judge people pretty quickly but you are a complete enigma to me.  Every time I think I’ve worked you out, you surprise me again.  You have half my department spellbound and I’d like to find out what it is that captivates them.”

“So what you’re actually saying is that you can’t understand why anyone would find me attractive?”  He really had a way with words.

Steffen choked on his wine.  “God lord, no. You’re a very attractive woman, Maisie. What I meant was you possess a certain charm that can win people over. “

“That would be my English side coming out.  My Swiss side possesses no admirable qualities whatsoever.”  Maisie wondered what it was about Steffen that could antagonise her so.  Perhaps it was because he was so devoid of human emotion that she wanted to see if she could spark any reaction whatsoever.

Steffen ignored her dig.  “I want to know more about you.  If I recall correctly, your English father married your Swiss mother, Monique Gastion. You were educated at the exclusive Gordonstoun School in Scotland. You travelled for a year before going to the Sorbonne University in Paris where you took a degree in Fine Art. You worked at Laverge auction house in Paris before moving into event management at Chateau Villette.  You have no siblings.  Am I right so far?” He had memorised her file.

Maisie nodded.  “You’ve certainly done your homework, Chief. What else could you possibly want to know?”  She was surprised at how thorough he had been.

“Tell me about the grandmother who made the glasswork for you in Venice.”

The corner of Maisie’s mouth twitched.  “That would be Grandma Carrington.  My father’s mother was a stickler for etiquette and correctness. She was a veritable English institution.  She was terrified that I might adopt, as she called them, sloppy European habits, so she insisted I was properly instructed on how to be a young lady.  I rarely saw my parents. My father was a banker and spent far too many hours at work, and my mother had no real interest in raising a daughter. So most of my spare time was spent with Grandma Carrington.  She took me to all the major cities of Europe, educating me in art and the finer things in life. Venice was one of the cities on her tour.  She taught me everything she thought a young lady should know, like flower arranging, painting, art and design.  Glass blowing was something she could do as well.  The vase I made her I think is still in my parents’ house.”

“You were very fond of her, weren’t you?” He was keen to find out more.

“Yes. She was much more of a mother to me than my own.  Despite being very uptight at times, she had such warmth to her and also a sense of adventure.  She taught me to ride and to play polo.” Maisie ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass absent-mindedly. “Even my love of Perrier Jouet comes from her.”

Steffen watched in fascination as she spoke about her grandmother.  Her love for this formidable woman was clear; she had obviously had a great deal of influence on the woman before him.  He felt slightly envious that she could feel such emotion towards someone; it was something that was alien to him.

“How did she die, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A brain aneurism last year.  Very sudden, with minimal fuss, it was so like her. I am grateful she went quickly, she would have hated a lingering death.  I was just so sad I never got to say goodbye, to thank her for everything she did for me. And to tell her how I felt.” Maisie was mortified that a tear had once again escaped.  She wiped it away quickly.

Steffen felt bad for dredging up the past.  “I’m sorry, Maisie,” his voice was ever so soft. “I had to find out about the woman who shaped you.”

She looked up as the waiter brought them a charcuterie platter to share.  It was filled with an assortment of dried meats, breads and olives.  It looked delicious.

“Tell me about yourself.  You seem to know everything about me, which you’ve sneakily dug up using police technology.  What about you?  Have you any brothers or sisters?  Tell me about your parents?  Anything?”  She broke off a piece of bread and folded a small piece of Westphalian dried ham onto it.

“I have a younger brother and sister who live with my parents in Zurich. My father is Senator Grundberg and my mother plays the role of his frosty wife.”

Maisie rolled her eyes, he was not playing the game.  “And what about yourself?  Tell me something about you?”

Steffen shrugged “There’s not much to tell.”

“I’m not going to be interrogated all night.  If you’re not willing to open up that ice hard exterior just a little, you might as well instruct your driver to take me home now.” She stood up and made to leave.

“Please sit, Maisie,” he sighed.  “I did not mean to upset you, I am just not comfortable talking about myself. It’s not something I do.”

“I am not comfortable talking about my dead grandmother, but I do it.”

“Very well.  I was born and raised in Zurich.  I went to Bern University and studied law. I joined the police force straight out of university and rose to the rank of Chief of Police quickly.”

“Your parents must be very proud; you are the youngest Police Chief in any canton of the country.”

Steffen snorted. “Trust me, my father would still find fault if I became President tomorrow.”

“And your mother?”

“Who knows what she really thinks. She doesn’t do emotion either.”

Maisie smiled. “At least now I know where the ice comes from. It’s inherited.” She chewed on a couple of olives.  “So where do you want to go next?”

“I thought back to my place, some soft music, handcuffs...,” Steffen’s eyes twinkled mischievously.  “Seriously, my aim naturally is to become Police Commissioner for the country.  One day, it might happen.”

“I thought a man in public office would rise quicker with a wife at his side rather than as a bachelor?”

“Is that a proposal, Miss Carrington?”

Maisie giggled.  “Not likely, I think you and I would kill each other within a matter of days.  But you rarely have the same woman by your side when you appear at public functions. Surely that must cause more harm than good in progressing your career?”

Steffen puffed out his cheeks.  He wasn’t that keen on this line of questioning, it was way too personal.  “I guess I’ll marry one day but she would have to be suited to the position of Police Commissioner’s wife.”

She was a little taken aback. He was talking about a suitable marriage, not a love match.  “You would marry for suitability not love?  Are you not forgetting that we live in the twenty-first century?”

“I am aware of that but as you might have picked up, I don’t really do emotion.”

“Have you never fallen in love?  Felt passion or desire for a woman? Or am I barking up the wrong tree? ” She eyed him up carefully.  “Are you trying to hide the fact you are gay?”

To her surprise Steffen laughed. “No, I am perfectly straight. But love is not something I am capable of.  And as for my sex life, I am not prepared to talk about it.” He looked at her with a wide grin.  “Unless of course you have an interesting proposition for me.”

She slapped his hand feeling a little colour seep into her cheeks.  The waiter made a timely appearance to clear away the platter.

“So what do you do when you’re not playing Police Chief?”

“I do believe it’s my turn to ask a few questions.” She was not going to have it all her own way. “As you were delving into my private life, I think I should only do the same.  How come you are unattached?”

“Unlike you I have fallen in love before.  It left me with rather a broken heart so I am now a little cautious as to whom I date. I also spend a good deal of time away, so it is not really conducive to a lasting relationship.”

“Where does Frankie Lavigne fit into the picture?” He watched her intently for her reaction.

She could feel her cheeks getting pinker by the second.  “Frankie was a classic example of it pays to be cautious. There he was busily persuading me to date him when he was already sleeping with someone.”