Opposing Forces (26 page)

Sabina laughed.  “He certainly does have a strange way of showing his feelings.  I hope this time you two can manage more than one night.”

“One night?”

“I was staying with Steffen that night in October when he came back very late and very dishevelled, bearing the unmistakeable scent of rose.”

Maisie sighed.  “Steffen is not attracted to me, Sabina.”
 

“Of course he bloody is.  He’s just so stubborn, he’ll never admit it.” She hesitated for a moment.  “I have to go, Philippe is here. But please, not a word to Steffen.”

“Your secret is safe.”  Maisie could not believe, all this time she had been with Steffen’s sister.  She did feel very sorry for her though, having the Chief of Police as your brother certainly could limit your dates.

She finished her tea, grabbed a couple of the butter biscuits and headed back to her bedroom.  The hall upstairs was a maze, she opened one door, but it was not hers, it was Steffen’s bedroom.  She slammed it shut quickly; that was the last place she wanted to look.  She tried the next door, it was hers.  Flopping down on her bed, she phoned Julianne.

“You’re not going to believe this but I’m sort of under house arrest at the Police chief’s official residence.”
 

She heard Julianne gasp.  “Chief Grundberg has you at his house?”

“Yes.  He didn’t take too kindly to my going to work today, so had me brought here so I could be given better protection.”

“No ulterior motive then?” Julianne pressed.

“No,” Maisie gave a small laugh. There was no chance of rekindling that wonderful night they had spent together.  That passionate man had apparently just been a figment of her imagination.

“How long do you plan on staying there?”

“If it were up to me, I’d be home tonight.  Hopefully I will drive Steffen to the point of madness and he’ll be glad to see the back of me in a couple of days.”

“Somehow I don’t think so. Anyway, behave. I’ve got to go, James is playing tonight.”

Quite comfortable on the bed, Maisie pulled up Facebook and caught up with some friends she had seen over the Christmas break.  She had completely lost track of time, it was close to eight.  Her stomach gave a loud rumble.  She ignored it, she would be going hungry tonight.

She slunk into her ensuite and turned on the taps to the fabulous roll-top bath.  Sniffing a few bottles of bubble bath, she found a rose one.  What were the chances?  She lit the candles scattered around the room,  sunk into the luscious hot bubbles and put her mind to reading the copy of Conde Naste Traveller that had been left in the room.  Mauritius looked good; miles of white sandy beaches, gently swaying palm trees and complete tranquillity. That was exactly what she needed.  There was also a very nice spa in Cyprus that got her attention.  That would be perfect for a long weekend.   She felt a slight waft of cold air and looked towards the door. Steffen was leaning against the door frame smiling.

“The Swiss are supposed to have impeccable manners.  You, Chief Grundberg, fail dismally in that area.” She looked scathingly at him before turning her attention back to her magazine, making sure that her body was well and truly hidden under a mass of bubbles.

“You’re avoiding me so it seemed I had no choice but to come to you.”

“What do you want?” she grumbled.

“Firstly I wanted to check that you were alright, and secondly to find out why you don’t want dinner.”

“As you can see, I am in perfect health.  In answer to your second question, I did not want to dine with a man who tethered me to my desk like a stray animal, rifled through my underwear in my bedroom and all but made me a prisoner in his own home.” She felt good getting that off her chest.

Steffen stiffened a little.  “I’ve seen your underwear before, Maisie, it holds no lurid fascination for me.”

She smarted a bit at that comment.  It was as good as saying he did not want her.  “Has it crossed your mind that I might want visitors?  Unlike you, I do enjoy an active sex life.”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to please yourself, so to speak.  Or make do with me,” he grinned widely, ducking out the way of the magazine that was hurled at his head.  “And why haven’t you unpacked?” he shouted from the bedroom.

“Because I’m going back to my apartment tomorrow,” she retorted.

“Not possible.”

It was freezing cold and as dark as it gets, she was running through the woods in her pyjamas.  The snow was deep but she kept wading through it, blindly hoping she would see the light of a house.  She had long lost feeling in her bare feet, in fact most of her body felt numb.  The crack of a small branch told her that her assailant was close by.  She pushed herself on, disorientated from the onset of hypothermia, everything was becoming a blur. She tripped.  Strong hands closed around her neck, squeezing the last of the air out. Then there was a loud bang.  She awoke with an ear-piercing scream.

It took her a few seconds to realise it must have been a dream. But she was genuinely gasping for air.  A split second later Steffen burst through the door, gun in hand.

He scanned the room quickly and charged over to the French windows to check the balcony.  All clear. They had not been latched properly and the wind had blown them open.  He sat on the edge of the bed next to Maisie.  She was shaking visibly. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently.

She knelt up and wound her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder, very aware that he was only wearing his boxer shorts.  He put the gun on the night stand and wrapped both his arms around her, kissing her head softly.   “It was just the wind, Maisie,” he soothed.

“I had a horrible nightmare that someone was strangling me,” she shook.

He held her tight, stroking her wild hair.  The remains of his lightly spiced aftershave filled her nostrils, he truly smelt wonderful.  Having his arms around her made all the pain disappear.  Her body started to respond of its own accord and she found herself dropping light kisses on his shoulder. She felt him tense right away.  Looking up into his grey eyes, she saw the desire was still there.  As his mouth found hers, Maisie felt a familiar fluttering in her stomach. Their kiss seemed to last forever, neither wanting to end it. 

He pushed her back down onto the bed, slowly lifting off her camisole top.  “This is so wrong, Maisie,” he groaned in her ear.  “You are under my protection.”

“Highly unethical,” she sighed, running her hand down to his boxers. “But as there is not another attractive, red-blooded male within range, I guess you’ll have to take care of my needs.”

Steffen had forgotten just how good it felt having her touch him, her soft, enquiring hands on his body.  It had been almost three months since they had last been together.  It had been too long. Her pyjama bottoms were removed in haste.  As he slipped between her thighs, he felt all his self-control once again desert him.

Maisie give him a lingering kiss as he slipped out of bed.  “Are you sure you have to leave, Chief?” she breathed in his ear.  He grabbed her hands before they could do any damage.

“Yes, I have to be at the station,” he kissed her upturned face.  “I will see you later tonight.”

She watched him leave with a huge grin on her face.  Maybe staying here had its perks after all.  She hugged the pillow on his side, a faint waft of his aftershave hit her again.  His lovemaking had been quite wonderful.  He had been gentle with her, respectful of the bruising she had sustained from the accident, but that had not dampened his passion.  The past months of pain just ebbed away in one night.  She knew that she might be setting herself up for more heartache but right now she just didn’t care.

She had one more hour of sleep before heading into the bathroom to shower.  Madame Bodart was waiting for her in the kitchen, looking even more disapproving than the day before.  Perhaps she had got wind of events of last night.

“Let me know what you would like, Miss Carrington, and I will bring it into the dining room.”

Maisie ordered croissant, yoghurt and coffee and waited in the small dining room for it to be delivered.

Bettina never cared much for the political fundraisers but being with Pierre they no longer seemed such a chore. Perhaps that was down to the fact he stayed with her rather than leaving her to fend for herself.

She was accompanying Pierre to one such event at the President Hotel in Geneva.  She had chosen a russet coloured silk dress, which draped elegantly into a low cut back.  This too had an impressive slit up the side; Pierre liked to see her legs. Her hair had been pinned up loosely, giving her quite a sultry look.

“I like attending these events just to show you off,” Pierre grinned mischievously as his hand slid down to her butt.

“Shame on you, Councillor,” she retorted, slapping his wayward hand.

Bettina was on autopilot with the small talk; she had had years of experience with it.  However she welcomed seeing Franz Von Gruber, Charles’ father.

“Bettina,” he kissed her cheek formally. “You look divine.”

“Thank you, Franz,” she responded dutifully.  “How is Ingrid?”

“She is sick otherwise she would be here tonight.”
 

“Nothing serious, I hope?”

“No, nothing too major.  But the question we are all wanting an answer to, is when is your daughter going to announce her engagement to Charles?”
 

Bettina shook her head. Franz and Hubert were like a dog with a bone on this subject.  “Sadly Franz, as I keep telling Hubert, that is not going to happen. Sabina is quite settled with someone at the moment.”

“She’s young, it won’t last.”

“Even so, she has no feelings for Charles.”  Other than loathing, Bettina muttered to herself.

“We don’t marry for love, Bettina. We marry to keep our blood lines blue.”

“Sabina will do what she wishes, she cannot be pushed into a match she doesn’t want.” Bettina held up her hand.  “That is all I am going to say on the matter.”

“Have you seen Hubert yet?”

“He is here tonight?” Bettina wasn’t impressed to discover that.

“Yes.” 

She was glad to feel Pierre’s hand snake around her waist as he materialised.  “Have you met Councillor Rosselin?”

“Of course,” Franz nodded briefly at Pierre.

“Excuse me, but I need to steal Bettina away,” Pierre gave Franz the briefest of acknowledgements.

“What’s up?” she murmured as he led her across the room.

“You were starting to look uncomfortable.”

“Hubert is here.”

“That never used to worry you. Why now?”

“Because if he is still harping on about a reconciliation, I might do something rash and embarrass you,” she hissed.

Pierre laughed.  “I love seeing you do something insane. It is so out of character for you which makes it even more pleasurable for me.”
 

Bettina gave him a tap on the shoulder.  “You are very bad, Councillor.”
 

“I’m part French,” he shrugged in response, his hand slipping rather low on her back. He was incorrigible, Bettina sighed to herself.

They noticed people starting to move into the dining hall.  “I guess we should find our seats.” Pierre steered her over to the seating chart. His brows knit together angrily on seeing the plan.  “What the hell?”

“What’s wrong?” Bettina asked.

“Somebody has messed up royally.  They have you seated next to Hubert on the other side of the room to me.”

“That’s no problem. We will just ask whoever is seated next to you to move.  I’m sure once we explain the mix up there will be no problem.” Bettina was certain anyone else would be happy to sit next to her ex-husband.

However, once they approached Pierre’s table, it become evident that only the most heartless of people would ask the lady seated to his right to move. She clearly had trouble walking, possibly as a result of polio.  Her face lit up on seeing Pierre. 

“I’m sure I can survive a public dinner with Hubert,” Bettina puffed out her cheeks.

“If he tries anything with you, I will call him out,” Pierre grunted.

“Pistols at dawn,” Bettina sighed dramatically.  “How romantic.”

“More like a bloody nose at midnight,” Pierre hissed.

Bettina headed over to her table.  Hubert and the rest of the guests were already seated.

“If this is your idea of a joke, I’m not impressed,” she glowered at him as she took her seat.

“I’m sure it was an honest mix up,” Hubert raised his hands in defeat.  As if.  He’d actually paid the organiser a very hefty sum to make sure this little seating error occurred.

“Frau Grundberg,” the gentleman to her right smiled.  “We have not seen you for a while.”

“Herr Grauber,” she nodded.  “And it’s Madame Laroque nowadays. I reverted to my maiden name after my divorce from Hubert.”

“But you still attend events with your ex-husband?” Frau Grauber asked curiously.

“No. I’m with Councillor Rosselin.  Someone obviously thought it amusing to seat the two exes together.”

“I’m sure we can get through the evening without too much discomfort,” Hubert smiled at the rest of the table. 

Bettina wanted to throw up.  He was on the charm offensive with everyone.  If only they knew the real man like she did.

“You are looking exquisite, Bettina,” Hubert said softly.  The dress she was wearing highlighted every luscious curve; how he would like to peel it off her later that evening.

“And you’re starting to look old,” she grunted back.  Just being around him made her positively grumpy.  “No young date tonight?”

“As I told you last time we met, I want age and beauty over youth.”

“You will find plenty of willing volunteers here. There are many single ladies who would welcome your attentions.”

“There is only one I want.”  His grey eyes virtually undressed her, making her feel very uncomfortable.

The uninspiring scallop starters were brought to the table.

“How are your children doing, Frau Grauber?”  Bettina moved the conversation away from Hubert.

“Very well, thank you, Frau...Madame Laroque.  Bruno is in England at Oxford University and Clara has just been accepted as an interpreter at the United Nations.”

“Wonderful news. What is Bruno studying?”

“Medicine.”

Bettina rolled her eyes.  “Phew. That makes a refreshing change for all these politics.”

“Is your son not here tonight?”

“Sadly not.  Work precluded him.”  Providing personal protection for Maisie was hard work indeed.  Sabina had shared that news rather quickly with her.  She just hoped Steffen would not screw up this golden opportunity to catch Maisie for good.

“You can’t ignore me all dinner,” Hubert muttered to her.

“Why not?  You did it for most of our married life. What has changed?” she responded sourly.

“You’ve blossomed and I’ve grown up,” he replied.

“Blossomed?” she said scornfully.  “This is all surface. I am the same woman I always was.”

“I disagree. You’ve definitely become sexier.”

She snorted.  “Why do men always want what they can’t have?  If I was single, you wouldn’t be interested. It’s just the chase that excites you.”

“Well, sleep with me and see if I’m still interested after,” he challenged.

“I really don’t care whether it’s one night or a lifetime you’re after.  I am with Pierre and intend to stay that way.”

Bettina was pleased when the main course arrived.  After that she could escape without causing too much upset.  A very strong drink from the bar was needed.  She prodded the venison; it was not her favourite by any means but was adequately cooked.

“What do you do now you are no longer so involved with politics?” One of the other diners piped up.

“I’m on the Board of two charities.  Animals and children,” she smiled.  “It takes up most of my free time but is very worthwhile.

“Now you’re making me feel guilty,” Frau Grauber groaned.

“I don’t have anyone to look after other than myself so it is easy to donate my time.”  She understood only too well what it was like to be the wife of a demanding politician.

“You don’t have to live alone,” Hubert murmured.

Would he ever give up, Bettina sighed to herself.  “I like living alone. Besides, I spend a lot of time with Pierre so I am rarely truly on my own. But if you dislike coming home to an empty house, you should get yourself a dog. You’ll find they are very loyal and affectionate creatures.”

“I don’t want a damn dog,” he grunted.

“I thought you wanted companionship?” she queried innocently.

“No. I want sex.”

“As I have reiterated, I am sure there are plenty of willing females here who would jump at the chance of bedding Senator Grundberg.”

“I just want you,” he hissed.

Bettina almost choked on her last mouthful of venison as she felt him squeeze her thigh.  It was not a pleasant experience, his warm hand on the flesh exposed by the slit in her dress.

“I would advise you to remove your hand from my leg, Senator Grundberg,” she said coldly, her voice was not altogether muffled.

“No,” he retorted, slipping it higher under the fabric.

“You have precisely one second to remove it before I plunge this fork in it,” she threatened.

“You wouldn’t,” he looked at her smugly then gave a painful yelp as her fork drew blood.  “Bloody hell, woman.”

“I did warn you to take your groping hand off my leg,” she said loudly.  Her fellow guests did not know whether to laugh or look embarrassed.  Bettina finished her wine as Hubert rushed off to the cloakroom to try and stem the bleeding.

Pierre materialised by her side.  “What just happened?” he whispered in her ear. 

Bettina stood up.  “I think I need a brandy.”  She waited until they were out of earshot. “Hubert wouldn’t stop groping my leg so I stuck a fork in his hand.”

Pierre felt his temper flare.  “Where is that bastard?”

“I imagine washing off the blood,” Bettina snickered.  She realised too late that Pierre had disappeared in the direction of the cloakroom. 

Hubert glanced up from the sink as Pierre stormed in.  Before he had a chance to move, Pierre had dealt him a hefty blow to the stomach, followed by a glorious punch to the face that sent him reeling to the floor.

“If you so much as touch Bettina again, I will personally rip your balls of. She is not interested, Grundberg.  So stay away.”

“Frightened of some competition?” Hubert spat back, blood pouring down his face.

“You aren’t competition; you’re something unpleasant she scraped off the bottom of her shoe.  You gave her nothing but humiliation and heartache for your entire married life.”

“I will fight to get my wife back.”
 

“Ex-wife. You can fight all you like but you’re wasting your time.  Go back to your barely legal hookers, you sick fuck, and leave Bettina the hell alone.”