Love under contract (30 page)

Zara put her arm around him, “My mother is getting married on Saturday . . . again . . .” Gregor sighed. He had completely forgotten. He had been quite forgetful in the last few weeks, primarily because the presence of this woman confused him. She behaved properly; no drugs; no escapades, now that she was working again. It was a little like before, no, better, for now she was his wife, even if few knew it, but he didn’t care about that, now that she had been with him for two weeks. He knew it, and it was enough for him.

“Are you coming with me?” she asked then and stopped in front of a jeweler’s window. He didn’t respond. “I thought you might not want me to?” Zara shrugged her shoulders. “She knows, at least, that I’m sleeping with you; she doesn’t know that I married you.” He lifted her hand. “No one knows that; you’re not wearing a wedding band.” She laughed. “I also don’t have an engagement ring, do I?” Gregor sighed. He didn’t know that she had seen it that time. After she left him, he took it back; he didn’t want to be reminded constantly of his defeat.

“Would you like one?” he asked. “You know that the wedding was your idea; so I don’t need an engagement ring,” she answered curtly without looking at him. Actually she was glad to be married to him. She even missed him when he wasn’t there, but to admit that was harder than to mock him.

The wedding was to take place in the large ballroom of the Pierre Hotel – everything was trimmed in white and red, a deep reddish-purple; the roses, the table decorations; even the members of the  big orchestra wore roses on their suit-jackets.

Aceline was waiting for her daughter nervously in a spacious suite upstairs; she had promised to come by before the ceremony. Aceline was always nervous, although she had a lot of practice in getting married. She looked in the mirror; the hairdresser had pinned her hair up a little, and she wore a tiara and a cream-colored dress with long sleeves.

Her daughter should actually also consider marriage, finally, she thought. Her first one was a flop, but one mustn’t give up hope because of that. This was Aceline’s mantra. At every one of her weddings, she hoped it would be the last. And now finally Zara arrived. Aceline saw her in the large mirror and turned around.

“Hello, Zara, you’re late.” “I’m sorry,” Zara leaned forward and breathed an air-kiss in her mother’s direction. She didn’t want to disturb her make-up, which made her look several years younger and covered all the scars from her many facelifts.

Aceline studied her daughter; she looked good, as always. The dress was very beautiful, floor-length, gold in color, made of whisper-thin silk, embroidered, and with a lovely low neckline in the back. Her hair was down . . . she looked so young, Aceline observed, a little jealous of her own daughter.

“Mama, I have to tell you something; I didn’t come alone, but with an escort.” “I’m happy for you.” Aceline pulled at a few wisps of hair around her face, and stood up. It was time to go.

“Are you even listening to me?” Zara asked as they left the suite. “Yes, I am – and who is the young man?” “You know him, it’s Gregor Levy.” Aceline sighed. “I wondered about that the last time that I called you at home. Is it serious or only one of your bed-time stories?” Zara laughed. “Mama!” They were in the elevator and on the way to the foyer of the ballroom. There wasn’t enough time to tell her everything now, so Zara said nothing. She saw Gregor conversing with a few other men and went over to him. She hated her mother’s weddings and she was glad that Gregor had married her plain and simple. She also didn’t like Owen, who smugly awaited his bride in front of the minister.

Gregor looked at Zara and saw fear in her eyes, which he had never seen before. He reached for her hand and held it fast. “What is that minister doing there? Isn’t your mother Catholic?” Zara shrugged her shoulders. “She isn’t that devout. What’s most important to her is a beautiful wedding.” She sighed. She didn’t want to stand there. She bit her lips; was all this necessary? Why did she have to marry this man?

Of course they were seated at the round table with the bride and groom. When Owen, her new stepfather, saw Gregor, he grinned and said to Zara, “Ah, only a business relationship; interesting . . .” She looked at him angrily and if looks could kill, he would have been dead. His bride sat beside Owen, with his niece on his other side, as Zara noted with relief.

Gregor had greeted Aceline earlier. For him, everything was past history, including the shares of the firm which now belonged to Zara, at least on paper; and Aceline was his mother-in-law, although she didn’t know it yet. He didn’t want to think about the past.

Zara leaned toward Gregor and pushed back the cuff of his shirt, so that she could see his watch. “We have to dance, probably, and then we can disappear. Maybe to a club?” She meant it more in jest, but unfortunately she wasn’t allowed to joke about that with Gregor any more. He looked at her very seriously, and said, “No clubs; clubs are prohibited!” which he didn’t mean quite as seriously as it sounded, since they had been to a club just the weekend before. Zara smiled. Gregor looked at her hand and saw the wedding ring and lifted her hand up. ‘Where did you find that?” She laughed. “In one of your suits.” He leaned over to her and kissed her gently on the cheek. She knew that she would make him happy by wearing it. And she had to admit that she wanted to make him happy, even though she couldn’t quite explain why.

Aceline had been watching the two of them and had to smile. He was clearly in love with her daughter, she decided; he hadn’t looked at a single other woman and Owen’s niece was very pretty, a beautiful blonde, who could certainly use her feminine wiles and who was making pretty eyes at him. But he had eyes only for Zara, and as the music began, they danced – and seemed to be conversing happily, laughing and giggling. She felt a wave of jealousy, that her own daughter had gotten this man whom she had always desired. She was a little ashamed of herself, since Zara was her daughter, after all.

Owen absolutely wanted to dance with Zara and suddenly Aceline was alone at the table with Gregor. She sat down next to him and asked, “Is this serious with my daughter?” Gregor looked at her, disconcerted, and twirled his glass thoughtfully. Of course, she had no idea that Zara had already been his wife for some time, so he said only, “One can say that.” Gregor didn’t want to speak about that with Aceline; it was Zara’s role to tell her mother the truth. “You don’t want to talk about it,” she said, and looked at him. His blue eyes sparkled, and he looked at the dance floor and saw Zara, who was trying to keep Owen at a distance, and pushed him away when he got too close.

“No, I don’t . . .” Aceline put her hand on his arm. “Be good to her. Everyone thinks that she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she didn’t have it easy – with me and her father.” She didn’t hold a grudge against him. She had earlier, for many years, but she couldn’t now when she saw how much he loved Zara, and she had her revenge. She knew her daughter.

Gregor laughed. “Believe me, I am.” She really had no idea how much he loved Zara.

Finally the music was at an end, and Zara returned to the table and leaned toward Gregor. “Come, let’s go; I can’t last through another dance.” Gregor nodded and smiled.

Zara was alone with her mother for another short moment and she said to her, “He loves you – and believe me, he doesn’t fall in love easily, my God, what I would have given . . .” “Mother!” Zara shook her head. “He never paid any attention to me, but he always said that . . .” Zara looked at her mother, floored; she had always thought that she and Gregor had had a relationship, and then he took the firm away from her – and that’s the way her mother had always told the story. So what was this?

“I thought . . .” Aceline waved her hand. “Oh, come now, you really didn’t believe that?!” “I’m a terrible business woman, and he was a good banker, not more . . .I wanted to but he never gave me any hope!” Zara couldn’t grasp what she was saying. She had hated Gregor all these years for no reason, only because her mother hadn’t told her the truth? “Mama, I really thought!” “Child, you are naïve!”  She looked at her arrogantly, her blue eyes were ice cold, she had used her daughter to gain revenge and she had been pleased that she had left him when he fell in love with her. And he seems to have been spoiling her, so her daughter couldn’t complain. She turned around and joined her new husband.

Finally they were in the limousine and on their way home. Zara was thinking about her conversation with her mother, staring silently into the darkness. Her thoughts whirled around in her head, she felt like weeping, and wanted to scream, and her hands clung to the sides of her dress.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gregor asked. In the last hour she had suddenly become so still – and that wasn’t the Zara that he knew.

Zara always found it difficult to admit her errors, but now it was the time to do so. “I always thought that you had a relationship with my mother,” she finally said.

Gregor didn’t know whether he should laugh or not. “I could be her son; she wasn’t bad looking at that time, but older women are not my thing, and weren’t years ago, either. How did you come to that conclusion?’

He did laugh then – loudly, but stopped when he saw Zara’s expression. And suddenly he understood. “No, that can’t be true – you thought that I got the firm by conniving—no, wrong, that I fucked your mother and took her business away from her?” Zara was so ashamed; she lowered her gaze; she felt herself getting hot; she had a lump in her throat. It wasn’t only that she felt bad for him, but she also felt used by her own mother.

“You certainly had a horrible opinion of me; you could have saved yourself all of that play-acting!” Gregor leaned back and shook his head. “You could have said something,” Zara murmured in her own defense. “What could I have said – about such a perverse thought that I slept with your mother? I didn’t even think of it!?” He was really in a rage. These crazy aristocrats, what were they thinking? “For your information, my sex life is and was somewhat less spectacular than yours!” Zara turned her head and looked out of the car window. Tears ran down her cheeks. She felt really lousy, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt as bad.

When the car stopped, she quickly got out and ran up the stairs. She didn’t even watch out for the hem of her expensive dress, which got caught and ripped as she ran away from him.

Gregor followed Zara into the house. She was already on the second floor, she had shed her shoes on the stairs. He heard the door of the bathroom close. “Zara.” He knocked on the door and opened it carefully. She was sitting on the floor in her ballgown, her face between her knees and her hands wrapped around her legs.

He kneeled before her and pulled her to him. “Hey, come talk to me!” She couldn’t look at him, and turned her face away. She wept silently, and the tears ran down her face. “Zara.” He took her face in both hands and looked at her. She had closed her eyes; she didn’t want to see him.

“Zara,” he murmured and kissed her on her wet cheeks; her tears tasted salty. “I’m sorry,” she murmured then and looked at him through eyes swimming in tears. “I forgave you long ago!” Everything; that she had slept with other men; that she had left him; that she had used him . . .

He kissed her on the mouth, which also tasted like tears. “I love you, even if you’re crazy, arrogant, vengeful, foolish . . .” She laughed softly. “That’s enough now!” she interrupted him. She didn’t want to hear any more of her negative characteristics. He was glad that she was laughing again. “I don’t deserve that,” she whispered and leaned on his shoulder and she meant it. How could he love her, despite everything, he, who could have any other woman?

“You’re talking nonsense,” Gregor said quietly, pulling Zara up by her arms. He carried her into the bedroom and put her on the bed. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and smiled shamefacedly. “I am really awful . . .” Gregor lay down, almost on top of her, and sighed. “Yes, that you are, but you’re good in bed . . .” Zara turned over and now lay on top of him. “How do you mean that?” He laughed and pulled her dress over her shoulders. “Exactly as I said it.”

“Zara, are you going on vacation?” her colleague, who sat across from her asked, and Zara looked up, straight into Jenny’s brown eyes. “Excuse me?” “I checked the vacation requests earlier, and they’re approved, although I know it’s not necessary in your case . . .” She especially emphasized the “your,” since everyone in the building had become aware in the meantime that Zara had a relationship with the big boss. “Vacation? What are you talking about?” Zara was dumbfounded, and continued to turn the pages of the report that she was working on. She hadn’t requested any vacation.

Jenny giggled. “Then it was someone else . . . She was thinking of Gregor Levy. “Where is the vacation request form? Let me see it.” Jenny got up and gave Zara the list, glancing at the new Stephane Kelian shoes that she was wearing.

Zara studied the yellow form and sure enough, it stated that as of the next Monday she was on vacation – for a whole week. That could only have been Gregor’s doing, she thought. She pressed her lips together and put the paper down on the desk. Now just a minute, she thought, and looked at her watch. He must already be in the office.

She pushed her chair back and smoothed her dress. “I’ll be back in half an hour,” she said to Jenny, tossing her hair at the nape of her neck, and picked up the form. “Where are you going?” Zara grinned. “To the gentleman who would like to send me on vacation.” Jenny laughed. Too bad that she couldn’t witness what was about to take place. Zara was impulsive, but a good lawyer, and she could learn a lot from her – including how to keep company with the gentlemen at the executive level.

Zara took the elevator up to the top floor, and got off at the large anteroom with the four assistants. Everything here was only the best: leather chairs, expensive paintings on the wall – it was the executive floor.

“Is he here?” she asked Peggy, the only one who knew that she was his wife. “Yes, but . . .” Peggy looked at the large telephone equipment display. “He’s on the telephone, Madame Valois.” Zara had never been up here before; Peggy had only seen her in some of the magazines up ‘til now. As she stood in front of her, in her tight, very tight, dress, the very high black boots, and the sinfully expensive diamond and pearl jewelry, she was very impressive and elegant. She also smelled so good – a cloud of scent – French perfume, not the mass-produced kind – enveloped her. Peggy sniffed as Zara turned away. Oh, yes, she looked just as she had expected. She wondered if it were true that she slept with other men?