Chapter 21

San Capistrano

July 13th

In the evening, Konrad was pleased with his day so far. He and Guntram had spent the morning and afternoon in Rome, visiting the Villa Giulia and the Etruscan Museum, having lunch there. As the mercury was not too high, they remained in the restaurant's terrace; he, reading some documents sent in the morning by his secretary and the boy, drawing the gardens or the villa in a small pad he had in his pocket, without interfering with his work.

Konrad decided to walk along the river before asking his bodyguard to wait for him with the car at the Castel Sant'Angelo. He enjoyed the boy's silent and amiable companionship, his acute questions and that he was really listening his to answers. They visited the fortress and at 8 o'clock both were back in San Capistrano, sitting in the grand living room, waiting for dinner.

Guntram was very tired, but glad to have been out for a full day and Lintorff could be funny when he was not stressed or playing the big bad banker with his associates. His sense of humour was very dark, but it suited him and he could take a joke on him much better than any other man he had known. Yesterday, when they had arrived with the limo from the airport and he was a bit sore after their talk in the plane—'admit it Guntram, he's a bone to big for you'—Konrad had murmured the minute he had seen the twenty something employees standing in line to receive him; “just a second Guntram, I have to make the Duke's parade. The serfs need to see their master” and he had giggled at his royal and serious tone.

“Be careful, your Grace when you throw the bone. If you get one in the eye, you will have to pay for it.”

“I know. Bismark was a dangerous revolutionary with all those social laws,” had been his answer, in his best “business meetings” voice, but a mischievous glint in his eyes. “The secret lies in throwing only one bone with all of the meat attached.”

Guntram had had a very hard time trying to control his laughter in front of the Italian—“inheritance from my father”—butler. He had fallen in love with the incredible Art collection in the house and with two real Bronzino drawings in one of the corridors. He was not surprised that his bedroom was near the Duke's private stances and had a view over the countryside, in the middle of the Lazio area.

Konrad had promised him to take him to St. Peter's to see the Treasury and later the Trajan Market or the Capitol Hill where you could enjoy a breathtaking view of the city. To his surprise, Konrad could speak Italian very well and had been very kind to a young child, no more than five or six, who had asked him if he was a giant. “No, unfortunately not. Giants are five centimetres larger than I,” he had told the boy mimicking his seriousness and the small one had been very happy with the answer.

'He's not the man I thought, really not. Those eyes of his are really something. He looks like a million dollars, but he takes it naturally. I could speak for hours with him and he doesn't make me feel as if he's cross examining me like Constantin used to do some times. Good, he doesn't like art so much.'

“Madame Barberini is here to visit his Grace,” the butler announced with a mortified face, already fearing the more than probably outburst from his master. The Duke had behaved so well since he had arrived with his ward, not complaining at all over small things, or inspecting the house from roof to the cellar, or changing his mind every two minutes about something. He had preferred to stay in the living room, reading peacefully with the boy sitting next to him, not upset that his dinner was delayed till nine. 'Mr. Elsässer has a hard work'.

“I don't receive people tonight, Mario.”

“The lady insists, Sire.”

“Take her to the library,” Konrad said with a face that forebode nothing good for his security staff, the butler and the woman.

“Immediately, Sire,” the butler answered, turning to leave the room and nearly bumped into Stefania, dressed with a blue short cocktail dress.

“It's incredible Konrad, sitting in your living room in a wonderful evening. Hello, dear,” she said, going over the butler, now fearing for his thirty-six years old job, two years before retirement.

“It's all right, Mario,” Konrad dismissed him while Guntram stood from the comfortable sofa he was sharing with him, leaving his sketch pad aside. He couldn't help to smooth his shirt's wrinkles, like a child, when he felt Stefania's x-ray eyes on him. He kept his eyes down, while Konrad took his time to stand up.

“Stefania, this is my ward, Guntram de Lisle. He's staying with me for the holidays,” he said, his eyes fulminating her, but she didn't pay attention to him and offered her hand to the boy, seemingly frightened of her. He kissed it and bowed his head, but said nothing, too disturbed at her interruption and bewildered because of the palpable aura of fury emanating from Konrad.

“How do you, Mr. de Lisle? Are you French? I was under the impression that you were Russian,” she said haughtily and Guntram blanched.

“My parents were French. I lived all my life in Argentina,” he mumbled nervously, looking to Konrad for help or permission to escape.

“Guntram is the son of one of my best lawyers. He's studying Arts in Zürich.”

“Really? People told me you were coming from St. Petersburg.”

“I lived there for six months and in London too, Madam.”

“Stefania, sit down. This is starting to look like a police interview, darling,” Konrad said very dryly, not waiting for her to sit down to sit. “Something to drink?”

“No, I was hoping you would accompany me to “Sotto Voce”. It's a new lounge bar and it's the best place in the city. You can't miss it if you're here, even if you keep closed your house in Villa Borghese and hide here.”

“I'm in holidays, Stefania: looking for peace. Besides Guntram has a heart condition and needs to rest after spending the whole day in Rome.” Konrad decided to cut off the upcoming argument as fast as he could.

“Please, don't worry about me Konrad. I don't do well in such places,” Guntram cut his escape route earnestly.

“Guntram, there's no reason to go out. Mrs. Barberini can have dinner with us if she wants,” he said after briefly considering that throwing her out, 'as the vixen certainly deserved for breaking into his house and spoiling his evening', was bad for his public image. He could feel the boy was already softening to him, immediately blushing every time he was fixing his eyes on him.

“Konrad, dear, you're still not fifty! Come on, we can have dinner downtown. They have a Spanish chef who worked under Adrià.”

'Excellent, just excellent. Chateubriand mousse and broccoli ice cream for dinner! We have canetons with that raisins sauce here!' Konrad opened his mouth to defend his dinner, but Guntram once again commented,

“Sounds very nice. Is he not the one who was named Chef of the Year?”

“Exactly, that one,” Stefania said with a triumphant smile.

“Do you want to come with us?” Konrad grunted.

“No, I can't eat it. The doctor forbid me to do it,” Guntram said with an earnest smile at Konrad, melting his fury at the youth for being so stupid as to take that woman's side. 'Doesn't he realise that she's competition of the worst kind?'

“In that case, we could stay here,” Konrad said quickly and Stefania made her best impersonation of big puppy eyes at Guntram.

“It would be a pity to waste a dress like the one Miss Barberini is wearing, Konrad. You should take her out.”

'Is this boy an idiot? His uncle was a hundred times better for bending me to his will!' Konrad thought and he caught Guntram smiling at her encouragingly, in an attempt to ease her faked pained face. 'A kind hearted idiot.

Well, someone has to pay for women like Stefania. I'll get her out before she does something to him. She obviously wants trouble.' “I have to change myself, Stefania.”

“Do it, dear,” she said while Konrad stormed out of the room.

The Duke saw Mario standing at the end of the corridor. “Do something! Get the boy out and don't leave him with the witch alone. You should know better which people are allowed to enter this house! This is a family residence!” he said with a low voice. “Elsässer will explain you your new duties.”

“Yes, your Grace,” the man answered very sheepishly.

In his bedroom, Konrad jerked the drawers open to vent his fury before he would do or say something he might regret later in front of Guntram. 'How can he be so dumb? Doesn't he realise that woman wants to have sex with me to get him out? That's it! He doesn't want anything with me and kicks me to her bed! Once more, they're toying with me! Exactly as Roger, with his doll face and lies! Fuck with the tie. I'll change the shirt and she should be glad!'

Still cursing softly in German, he laced the shoes and put on a Patek Philippe, and heard a soft knock on the door. He went like a thunderbolt to open it, finding Guntram at his doorstep, clutching a big sketchpad.

“Hello. Excuse me Konrad, but the butler told me you wanted me to show my drawings to Miss Stefania and I wondered if this would be acceptable.”

“Yes, she won't understand it.”

“Ah. You look great with a blue jacket,” Guntram said distractedly. “I'll meet her downstairs. She's very beautiful. Do you think she would let me paint her?”

“She's a professional model.”

“Yes, you're right. She must have hundreds of people wanting to do it. I should not bother her. I go now.

I don't want to keep her waiting.”

'No, not playing with me. Hopeless case of good will.' Konrad sighed. 'Did he say that I look great in blue?' Suddenly, his fury had disappeared.

“Go to bed early, Guntram. Don't stay up late drawing like you always do,” Konrad barked the minute he entered the living room to fetch Stefania, ready for a forgettable night out. He nearly gasped when he saw Guntram sitting next to her, after showing her his drawings of some chickens he had seen in the farm near the castle, smiling softly at him, beautiful and unaware of the geyser he was sitting on. 'Like a child without malice. I will have to protect him from people like her.'

“Yes, Konrad. Good night, Madam,” the boy replied, slightly bowing his head to Stefania, looking at him with clear scorn in her eyes. That little mouse couldn't compete with her. She had been so foolish to be concerned about a “young, very handsome and kind boy” living with Lintorff, as one of her special friends, a banker from Milan, had described him at her request.

“Perhaps we will see each other sometime,” she said, extending her hand.

'Not if I have something to say in the matter.' Konrad thought before taking Stefania by the waist and steering her out of the room with long strides. 'Bloody nuisance of a woman. All of them good for nothing.'

The faint echoes of disco music were still banging onto his brain when Konrad sat back in his limousine, with Stefania at his side, chatting with herself because he couldn't care less what she was prattling about.

'Lounge bar? It was a despicable joint for vulgar people. TV artists! They give a bad name to the real ones!' the Duke thought, doing a supreme effort to keep a straight face and his mouth shut before losing his temper, exactly as he had been forced to do for the whole night in front of forty total strangers, all famous, with invitation only, considering than pouring bottles of champagne on top of a half nude starlette was the top of refinement. The place had been crowded with “celebrities reporters” (tattle tale of the worst kind) and Stefania had been more than glad to be photographed several times. His bodyguards, Ricardo and Piero had spent the whole night keeping the paparazzi away from him; therefore he had to look for a table in a secluded corner bearing with Stefania's pouting and kissing good-bye his dinner.

The cognac was Hennessy when he had clearly asked for a Louis XIII, Rémy Martin… and a heretic had dared to put ice on it! His people knew he only drank that brand. How right was his father to tell him: “Choose one drink and stick to it. With any luck, the waiters will learn it.” What kind of place was this that they didn't have the Rémy Martin XO?

'The incompetents forgot the funny umbrella,' was his unspoken remark and left the glass on the table, after one sip, refusing to drink it.

He had enough of all this.

Time to put an end. He had much better at home. Ten minutes talking with Guntram or watching him draw were more entertaining than two hours of idiotic prattle from a TV soap operas producer.

“Stefania, darling, allow me to drive you home,” Konrad interrupted her vivid talk with another woman.

“We just arrived darling and …”

“Please.” One word sentences were his best.

She pouted again and made a little girl's face, something he hated, but one of his looks convinced her that Lintorff had enough for one night and she should better keep her low profile if she wanted to fix what had been broken that night in Zürich. After all, the “stronzo” had not called her at all. She was not going to throw ten years of work to the trash, especially knowing how touchy Lintorff was.

“Of course, dear.”

She was doing her best to distract him by telling him that funny story about the D&G fashion show in Milan, but he kept ignoring her, brooding and fuming as usual. 'This man is impossible!'

“Do you want to come in for a drink?” she suggested when the limo parked in front of her elegant apartment building.

'I want to go to bed, but perhaps some fun would be good to ease the tensions. If Guntram bites his lips once more or smiles at me, I'm going to jump on top of him in the middle of the living room! Those shy smiles of him are darn sexy! And his eyes are something incredible when he looks at you, caressingly and…´

“Konrad, do you want to come upstairs?” Stefania repeated the question, sounding irked and kicking him out of his limbo of barely contained lust for the boy. 'Roger was an ugly toad compared to this boy. Fuck being friends! I need him in my bed!'

“Do you have some red wine, Stefania?”

“Yes, of course,” she answered taken aback by the strange question. “Your cousin Albert sent me four boxes from his vineyards.”

'Bloody Albert! Again trying to get rid of his rubbish! I swear he does it on purpose!' He opened his door by himself and got out of the car while the chauffeur had been stoically standing for more than ten minutes at Stefania's side.

Once inside the elevator to her penthouse, she caressed his cheek and he smiled as it was mandatory to answer her advances in some way. She opened her door, realising that Konrad was in one of his “sombre nights”, and decided to go for the wine and glasses, her stilettos resounding in the corridor. “Make yourself at home, dear.”

'Home as go to bed or home as get the slippers and sit in the couch? Must be the second, she went for a bottle of that rats' poison.' Konrad walked with certainty to the modernly decorated living room, the one “with the pseudo Warhol portrait” as he used to call it. Some minutes later, she rejoined him with a bottle and two glasses. He took it and started to expertly removing the lid to the “Principessa di Battistini-1997- Mention Spéciale” bottle. 'Aunt Elisabetta should kill Albert for using her name for this. It proves that he's her favourite child,' he thought before serving it without tasting it 'no need to, it's well known crap for the snobs.'

“Should we make a toast?” she asked seductively.

“To your beauty and talent, Stefania,” he answered automatically, doing his best to drink it 'without making faces Konrad, it's unbecoming,' as Friederich used to tell him when there were Brussels sprouts on the menu, every fifteen days, like clockwork. He left his half emptied glass on top of the crystal table before grabbing Stefania again.

“You didn't finish your glass.”

“It needs to breath some more,” he mumbled as he kissed her shoulder carelessly tearing the spaghetti strap of her expensive designer's dress. 'With any luck, it will kill all your cockroaches'

His hand went for her back zipper and in less than a second he had it down, pulling from it to get rid of the dress.

“We are a naughty boy tonight, are we not?” she teased him partly pushing him away but he didn't move and inch or removed his hands from her. “You could wait till we reach the bedroom.”

“Fine, go ahead.”

'German noblemen are real pigs and this one is the greatest of them all!' she thought before going up the stairs with him in tandem. She had not even closed the door, when he jumped on her and finished to remove her dress, throwing it to the floor, almost stepping on a real Versace. Instead of admiring her La Perla lace underwear, he unhooked the hooks fast and started to fondle with her breasts as all contribution to the romantic part, without removing his clothes. She jerked his tailored jacket so he would understand—as if that were possible—that he also had to make the supreme effort to disrobe himself, without help, if he wanted to get something from her.

'She's right, it's uncomfortable with shoes and clothes on,' he thought when he felt the strong pulls in his jacket. With quick and precise movements he removed the jacket, shirt, trousers and underwear before rejoining her on the bed, only wearing her thong and silk stockings. He placed his body on top of hers and kissed her on her neck before starting to suck one of her breasts.

Stefania couldn't help to think 'what a waste, such body for such a boring man! That's all he can make, three minutes sucking, then he penetrates you, another five minutes and it's over. He snores or leaves. Better I start to moan so he finishes sooner.'

“Turn around, Stefania,” Konrad asked her. 'If she starts to moan so soon, it means that she wants something big from me. She should earn it.'

“Konrad, baby, you know I don't like it. It's painful,” she half pleaded.

“Steffi, you know I like it a lot when you do it. You're incredible.”

“But, this is not romantic.”

“Please, darling. You would make me very happy,” he pleaded in a mocking way, determined to leave if she wasn't complying with his request.

She sighed and he took it as her acceptance, turning her around, almost hitting her head against the headboard in his haste to place her on her fours, just to remember he had forgotten to put a condom on. 'The last I need is a bastard from her or catching a STD,' and he went to get one of his own stash because he would have never taken one from hers: 'oldest trick in whores' history; get pregnant from the rich man.'

Only with a brief preparation, Konrad sodomized her without giving her time to get used to him. He mounted her at a fast pace, grabbing one of her breasts to stabilize her under his thrusts. When he reached his climax, he emptied within her with a groan in her ears, releasing his hold over her and lying spent by her side.

One hour later, after slumbering holding her body—for appearances sake as he needed a second or even a third round to be completely relaxed when he returned home—Konrad decided that it was time to resume his activities with Stefania. The only good thing about her was that she was always willing to do what he wanted, although later the tab would become bigger.

Once more, her faked moans convinced him that either she wanted something big or she was truly trying to make up from the latest date. 'Always take care of your customers, used to say my father.'

Round number three was in the shower as it was already late and he wanted to be home before 3 a.m. as he planned to take Guntram to visit St. Peter's treasury museum. He climaxed again thinking that 'this should be sufficient till we reach Zurich. There I could visit Henriette or ask Charles for a drink. He's always willing to have some fun.' He showered and kissed her with a “you're truly amazing, Stefania.”

He redressed himself quickly while she combed her dark raven hair. 'Time to clear the agenda, she's too dangerous to have around Guntram, What if she makes him nervous? He had already the jealous wife experience to have now the scorned mistress one.'

“Stefania, dear, I've been thinking hard in what I should give you for your birthday.”

“It's not due till December, darling,” she laughed

“It's an important number. You don't turn forty every year,” he said jovially, expecting her more than probably explosion.

“It's thirty-six, darling,” she corrected him acidly

“Yes, I'm sorry. How dumb of me! Anyway, I was thinking to give you this flat for it. I would need some time to prepare the papers. Why don't you ask your landlord to contact my secretary, Monika and she will take care of all the details?”

“That's most wonderful of you!” she cried excitedly. “I don't know what to say!”

“You deserve it, Stefania. You have been a good friend for the past ten years. I want that you have some security in your life. This man was speaking about a new TV show for you, something much better than cable TV, something in the RAI, if I understood correctly.”

“It's a fashion show on Saturdays at 2 p.m., but he needs more financing.”

“How much?”

“I would say around €700,000 for two years. It's a lot of money and the network is not sure about it.”

“I will pay them for you. National TV could be your big break.”

“Konrad, this is too much. We don't know if we can pay you back, we still don't have enough sponsors.”

“As a tribute to your talent. Monika will also take care of it.”

She jumped to his neck and kissed him. 'Well, the first real kiss I get from her. Fair enough for a farewell.' When she was telling him how wonderful he was, he only said. “I'm afraid that we part ways tonight, Stefania. You have made me very happy.”

“Why?” she shouted.

“I have decided to settle down with someone. To have children even. I think the fairest thing to do is to let you go before I take more of your time,” he said very seriously.

“When?” she started to weep. “Who? I gave you the best years of my life! I loved you! And you leave me like this?”

'You got a generous lay off, don't complain woman.' “Stefania, I'm almost forty-six years old. It's time to settle down and be a responsible man. I have found someone who could provide love and stability to my life. I wish you all the best and should you ever need something, call Monika. There is no reason for us to stop being friends.”

“Stronzo! Sciagurato! Figlio di puttana! You're fucking with that little Russian slut! Pervert!”

“Not really.”

Her howl put him on guard and he was able to dodge the porcelain box hurled in his direction with incredibly good aim. The box crashed against the wall and Konrad knew that it was the time to leave the woman shouting atrocities at him. 'Good Lord, what manners! I doubt Guntram could be able of such a display even if he were furious with me.'

Konrad left the building to find his long-time bodyguard, Ricardo, leaning against the black car, smoking a cigarette. The man jumped to attention the minute he saw his boss leaving the building as he were chased by the devil ('or a cunning witch') and opened the door for him.

“And people wonder why I never married before,” Konrad snorted, before entering inside the car. “Tell Monika to call her manager and arrange the details. She's too upset to remember it.”

Ricardo closed the door with great satisfaction. Miss Barberini was officially out after lasting ten years, four months and three days. A world record.

Perhaps the rumours about that young French becoming the Duke's new lover were true. It wouldn't be the first time his employer had fun with a man. 'Hope this time it lasts, seems to be a good boy, nothing like the vipers he beds. Ratko says he's nice.' Ricardo thought as he sat in the passenger's side indicating with his head that they should drive back home.

Still upset for getting a powder box flung at his head and accused of being a pervert—why could no one believe that his love for Guntram was pure and selfless?—Konrad needed to calm down or someone would suffer his bad temper. Watching the boy sleep had always that strange therapeutic effect on him. He entered in his room on tiptoes, noticing that the window was open and his pencils were scattered over the cover. 'One of these days, he's going to stab himself with one of those things.' Konrad moved his head disapprovingly while he removed the items and left them over the bedside table.

'He's so beautiful that I can't take away my eyes from him. When did I fall in love? Was it when he smiled at me for the first time? No. When he let me touch his face and looked at me with his big eyes? Not that time. I was already mad about him. The times we were speaking together or walking in the forest? When he looked at everything in awe and showed me beauty even in a dirty pond? No, I loved him since the moment he sat next to Goran in the car, looking terrified but doing his best to conceal his fear and face me.'

Konrad crossed the room as silently as he could, closing the open window. 'It's cold for him. A draft could be dangerous.' He approached the bed and covered Guntram better, taking a good look at him, soundly asleep.

'Roger told me that his father used to call him his “little prince” and how right he was!'

'No, I can't be friends with Guntram. He has to be my consort.'

The glaring sun woke Konrad up. Cursing at the late hour, he sat on his bed and rang for that incompetent of a butler. 'I clearly told him at eight and its 11:54! Idiot!'

The butler knocked at the door very timidly, knowing beforehand that his employer was very upset. His short temper was legendary and yesterday he had broken up with the model he favoured so much. The heads would start to roll in any minute. He had kept his temper in check since he had arrived with the young French and behaved well toward his staff.

“I said at eight, Mario!” Konrad started his scold but a soft knocking stopped it. “Come in!”

“Good morning, Konrad,” Guntram greeted him, carrying a dish covered with a napkin in his right hand.

“Your bodyguard told me you returned very late and I asked Mario to let you sleep. There's no need to go today to the Vatican. We can do it some other day,” he said simply.

“In that case…” Konrad answered, settling for throwing a dirty glance at his butler, who ran away in haste to bring a cup of coffee for his master.

“Come Guntram, sit with me. I apologise for the inconvenience,” he said, moving to one side of the bed to leave some free room, but the boy sat in the couch at his right side. 'Not what I was expecting. For once, he's in my room, he's dressed and sitting on a darned couch.'

“Were you out?” Konrad asked, noticing that the boy was wearing simple beige trousers and a striped shirt with normal shoes.

“Yes, since 7 a.m. In the farm. My models from yesterday are today's lunch.” he replied, smiling while the butler placed a small silver tray with a cup of black coffee on top of Konrad's bedside table. “It will be pretty soon.

Maria Domenica promised to bake a chicken pie for me.”

“Did she really say “chicken pie”?” Konrad asked incredulous.

“Pasticcino di pollo. Is it chicken pie, right?”

“Yes, it is but she doesn't cook since 1995! My house keeper is retired!” Konrad was irked to say the minimum. The woman knew he loved it since he was a child, but since her retirement, she refused to cook for him, only taking care of the house management.

“She told me yesterday night she was going to make one for me. And she has given me this too. It's like small apple cakes. They're really good and thought that I could save one for you.” Guntram answered removing the napkin to show two perfectly golden small apple pastries, covered with honey.

“I'm asking her to bake them since 1994. I adored them when I was a child, but she retired and stopped making them. She keeps the recipe under seven locks!” Konrad said with a mixture of resentment, jealousy and admiration. “Since when do you know Maria?”

“From yesterday night. I didn't want to eat alone and had dinner with your butler and her, in the kitchen.

He's also a very kind man. She has relatives in Argentina and we were speaking long about it.”

“And you got the cakes…”

“Plus the recipe. She says that Jean Jacques should bake them for me. Do you want to try it?” Guntram came closer to the bed offering the dish to Konrad.

“Exactly as I remember them,” he said after the first bite. “How did you manage it? She refuses to do it for me!”

“Did you try with “please”?”

'Coming to think no, but it's her job,' Konrad thought, but said nothing, too busy finishing the pastry.

“You can have the other too, Konrad. Perhaps I could convince her to make more,” Guntram chortled very amused.

“Do it and I'll name you my heir,” Konrad said seriously and Guntram laughed, shaking his head negatively. “Come, sit here. I'm always trespassing in your bedroom.” Konrad tried for a second time and the boy sat on the other side of his bed.

“How was your evening?” he asked casually.

'He's jealous!' Konrad realised joyfully but his happiness was a short lived one: “Is it as luxurious as Oggi says? Were there celebrities? Jennifer Anniston was coming to the opening this week!” when the youth asked him at full speed.

“Who?” Konrad grunted, crossed that Guntram was more interested in the place than what he had been doing.

“You can not know her. The girl from “Friends”! Rachel!” Guntram snorted.

“Does she work in a bank?”

“No! She's an actress. Very famous!”

“If she was there, I missed her. I was with Stefania.” Konrad put some emphasis on the last word of the sentence.

“Yes, I know. She's a very beautiful woman. I remember her now. Was she not the one from this cosmetics campaign; the one with the Greek goddess or was it Helena of Troy?”

“Helena,” Konrad grunted, displeased at the turn the conversation was taking.

“Very beautiful indeed,” Guntram said lost in his thoughts. “If I were you, I would be very happy that a woman like her calls at my door,” he finished, his gaze fixed in a brocade's detail.

Konrad couldn't help it. He had enough. He bent his body over the unsuspecting boy and firmly gripped his chin and kissed him full on the lips, capturing his soft lips to devour them, enjoying the gasp and surprise from Guntram.

Guntram was petrified when he felt the man kissing him with so much ardour, like Constantin had never done before. It was like being kissed by a volcano and without realising it he put his arms around the powerful neck and shoulders offering himself to Konrad, letting him taste him fully.

Konrad immediately put his arms around the boy's waist pulling him with a light jerk on top of his body, revelling on how the boy kissed him back without restraints or calculations, naturally responding to his caresses, surrendering every wall to him and letting him take all what he wanted. His hands roamed through his back, briefly resting on his bottom and the need to feel Guntram under him was overpowering. With infinite care he turned so the child would be under him, without interrupting his kisses, savouring the mixture of tenderness, youthful eagerness and surrender he was receiving.

Guntram slightly spread his legs to let the man positioning himself better, feeling an unknown electricity running through his spine. “God, he's a hundred times better than Constantin,” his mind acknowledged and the consequent “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” came as a natural result with lightening speed.

He pushed away the surprised man on top of him. Konrad grunted in disbelief that what was one of the best kisses he had enjoyed in years had been cut off so abruptly. He saw Guntram jumping out of the bed, standing by the door looking at him with horror, shock and embarrassment. The boy opened the door and ran away to his private living room and to corridor.

“Damn! I almost had him!” Konrad cursed.

'Time to get dressed and catch my frightened kitten. This jump cannot be good for him. There's no way that I will let him escape now.'

'I'm a mess. What the hell was I thinking? Clearly I was not thinking! All this is the result of not having sex for a year! I was kissing that man! He killed my family! I have to get laid by someone and soon!'

'Sure, brother. With the seventy year old Austrian butler, the Russian bodyguard with a nice guy for a boyfriend, the very well married maids, or the seventy-five year old Art teacher with more thorns than a hedgehog?

So, the winner is… the German! Who, by the way, kisses like hell! Imagine what he can do with the rest!'

'Shut up! I'm not going to fuck him! Even if he were the last man in Earth! Besides the doctor forbid it.'

'Your doctor has patients like the Löwenstein Dinosaur! Can you imagine one of them in bed with the German? That man really knows how to kiss! Unlike Constantin! A full ride must be incredible and you like him since you saw him in London!'

'Never! I just thought he was handsome, with classical features!'

'Nothing like a handsome guy to get it good, brother!'

'He's a murderer!'

'Won't be your first! Let me remind you… Constantin?'

'I left him!'

'You left him because you had enough of him! Fool him but don't fool yourself! You were only putting a nice face when you were in bed with him. You liked that he was drooling over you… Like a pro, Guntram.'

'Shut up!'

'No, I'm your conscience and I do love my job! Think over it brother; the German is good looking and some real good sex will be good for you!'

'Shut up!'

A soft knock on his door cut abruptly his internal monologue and he feared that it was HIM. He was petrified, still dazed for the kiss he had received, 'and returned, brother, quite hotly', sitting in his bed. A second knock forced his good breeding to take over his frayed nerves and he stood up to answer it.

“The Duke would like to know if you're having lunch with him or not, sir,” Mario, the butler asked very politely.

'Of course I don't want to but do I have an option? He will charge in after lunch!' “Please tell his Grace that I'll rejoin him in five minutes. I still have to take my pills.”

“Certainly, sir. You don't look well. Should I ask a tea for you?”

“No, no, it's all right. It's just a headache.”

“Very well, sir.” The man left the room and Guntram felt once more lost in the room. He went to his bathroom to take his pills and wash his face with cold water. He took a tie from his closet and a jacket too with the secret hope that those symbols would establish that he was not in the mood to play with Konrad. 'He's clever, he should understand the hint.'

They had lunch in complete silence although Konrad tried to initiate a conversation on art but Guntram barely answered with some barely articulated monosyllables, bordering on grunts. 'Is he not hot? Friederich told me he hates ties; only wears when he has no other option. The first thing he does in the morning is to get rid of it the minute I'm out. We're in the middle of the summer! The last thing I need is to run to the E.R. because he had a collapse. He's already looking very flushed.'

“Guntram, do you feel all right?”

“Yes, Sire. Thank you.”

'That's it! Sire and tie. Back to square one. I'll speak with him before he hides under his bed and not in mine where he should be. Roger was driving me mad with his demands and evasive, but his mood swings are more impressive. Half an hour ago he was kissing me, and really enjoying it and now, he looks like a frightened mouse again.'

“Would you like to go this afternoon to the Vatican? The treasury is open till late.”

“Please accept my excuses, but I have a headache. Some other time, perhaps.”

'Please accept my excuses? No, this will not work with me, young rascal.' “It must be the heat in this house, Guntram. Too much excitement for you in the morning and noon,” Konrad said and noticed how the boy blushed at his words. “The best would be to remain in a quiet and safe place for you, like St. Peter's. I'll take you for a ride.” He enjoyed the last words as the boy gulped at the double meaning phrase.

Guntram could only nod his acceptance.

Konrad sat on the pew a few metres away from where Guntram was standing, first looking enraptured to Michelangelo's Pietà and now sketching it at an incredible speed. 'No wonder Friederich complains that he hides papers and pencils in his pockets. He had the full set! With sharpener included! Wait till he sees the pencil shavings you carry in your pocket! If this helps him to calm down and be more reasonable, then I will tell him to let the boy alone. Since we arrived at 2:00 he has only spoken three words to me.'

He noticed a priest well over his seventies, not tall, approaching Guntram and standing next to him as he inspected the way the boy was working. 'Jesuit and cardinal. Well, time to go back to your duties, your Eminence,'

Konrad decided to clean the area. 'Repin had a hard life indeed. Guntram does nothing and they all come running to him, like flies to the sugar.'

The priest was lively talking with Guntram when the Duke stood next to Guntram -smiling shyly (and adorably) and showing him sketch pad-. “Yes, good indeed. Could be much better if you work harder. Do you have a teacher? I can recommend you one very good in Rome,” the man was saying.

“I'm living for the moment in Zurich. I study there with Rudolf Ostermann,” Guntram said very proud of his teacher.

“With Rudolf? Are you not by any chance the boy with the unusual name?”

“My name is Guntram de Lisle, sir.”

“I'm Enrico d'Annunzio. I work at the treasury. What a coincidence to find you here! Rudolf sent me some examples of your work for an opinion. You have to work more, but could achieve a lot if you would let yourself go; you seemed to be very constrained in your painting.”

Konrad blanched at hearing the man's name. Not that Italian pest asking for a loan of his collection for the past five years! With Ostermann's support. Time to recover his kitten and disappear before he would be forced to have tea with the man and give his Cimabue for the masses entertainment. “Guntram, it’s getting late. If you would excuse us, your Eminence.”

“Hello, my son,” D'Annunzio greeted Konrad, extending his hand so he could kiss the ring and the Duke made reluctantly a genuflection and kissed the golden seal. “Enrico, Cardinal d'Annunzio. Your grace?” he said while Guntram repeated the gesture, very impressed that he was standing in front of a cardinal and wondering why Konrad didn't look impressed at all.

“Konrad von Lintorff,” he introduced himself very briefly, aware that he was doomed.

“An expression never better used, my son,” the man chuckled. “I see that you're in holidays. Are you staying in San Capistrano?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Wonderful! Then, tomorrow I can visit you and see this young man's work. Should we say at five?”

“I would be honoured to receive his Eminence,” Konrad resigned to his fate. Probably the man's expert eye had recognised in Guntram's sketches part of his collection.

“Your Eminence should not bother to travel. I could come here, Sire,” Guntram interfered and Konrad wanted to kiss him, but the following answer was not what he was expecting at all.

“Guntram, I want to look at your work and the Duke's collection too. He's a very busy man and whenever you have the chance to catch him, you should take your opportunity. Many of the artworks there were last time photographed in the thirties when they were moved to Switzerland because of the upcoming war. As a historian, I have to see them.” He explained very gently to the boy who nodded in agreement.

“I read your book. The one about pigments used in the Umbria region. It was a very detailed study.”

“It took me almost ten years of my life to write it. We'll see each other tomorrow at five. Good day, Duke.” The Cardinal smiled kindly to the youth; a sharp contrast to the man almost boiling with fury.

'No doubt, the Vatican still has the best intelligence service in the world. The Mossad boys are amateurs compared to them!' “Come, Guntram, we drive home now,” he growled to the astonished boy, wondering what had set Lintorff on fire. The Cardinal had been very nice. It should be what had happened in the morning. After all, the man had kissed him and he had jumped on top of him. Perhaps he had misunderstood everything. He only wanted a nanny, not a lover and coming to think, who in his right mind would like to have something with him when you could bed a woman like Stefania? She was like Angelina Jolie! Absolutely gorgeous woman!

Guntram believed that it was time to put an end and save himself another mess like the one with Constantin. 'You and rich powerful mobsters? Bad idea Guntram.' He got in the car without saying a word.

Dinner had also been as silent as lunch, Konrad musing and mechanically eating, had closed himself to the world as it was his practice when he had troubles. Guntram had tried to excuse himself, but the Duke had only growled, “Come with me to the terrace”.

The view of the countryside from the battlements was breathtaking and Guntram fell in love with the barely lighted fields, looking at them in rapture, leaning on the parapet.

'He's truly beautiful, but I have to let him come to me again. If I rush it, he might flee again,' Konrad thought and left his glass on the stone wall.

“Is it not too hot for cognac?”

“Please, don't tell me you're going to put ice in it!”

“Ice? Never. I thought it was more for winter.”

“A weather less warm would help, but it's all right if you only have one glass. Do you want to try? It's a Rémy Martin.”

“No, thank you. Alcohol and I don't mix together well,” Guntram said, remembering his first time with Constantin. 'Part of the fun was the champagne, brother.'

“Yes, that's the first thing doctors take away,” Konrad commented with sympathy. “Sometimes, I believe that my own father had his second and final stroke because the doctors forbid him to drink. The poor man was desperate in the end for a good Armagnac. He would die if he sees me drinking this,” Konrad chortled, glad that Guntram had smiled finally.

“I'm not so classical. My father was more into apple cakes and cinnamon. I also. His cologne also smelled like apples, now that I remember. Very similar to yours. What's an Armagnac?”

'Exactly as Roger, must be in the family,' he also remembered but decided to answer the question. “It's a kind of brandy, from Gascony, distilled once while cognac is distilled twice. Far more rare than cognac and the flavour is more delicate. I prefer something stronger, but if you want we can get you an apple cake.”

“No, it's all right,” Guntram chuckled. 'Now or never, he's in a good mood.' “About this morning, I wanted to apologise for ...”

“Was I so bad?”

“I beg you pardon?”

“If you start to apologise it means it was a really lousy kiss and now you're going to tell me that we can be best friends,” Konrad smirked and Guntram gaped like an idiot.

“No, it's not that! It's the other! The opposite!”

“Do you want to repeat it?”

“Yes! I mean, no! Not at all!”

“But you said yes. Did you like it or not?”

“Very much, but that's not the point here!” Guntram confessed without a second thought and blushed the second the words were out of his mouth.

“How so?”

“We should not do it again! Forget we did it!”

“I also liked it very much, Guntram,” Konrad said softly. “Would love to repeat it.”

“We won't! It's very wrong!”

“You are single at the moment and I am also. We have established we both liked it. How can it be wrong?”

“Because of who you are!” Guntram shouted in pain and turned his back to Konrad.

The man sighed and advanced till he put his hands on the youth's waist half expecting a blow from him but nothing happened, encouraging him to continue with his strategy. “Guntram, don't let something that happened almost fifteen years ago rule your whole life. You're perfectly aware that your father was very sick when he took that decision. It was in his autopsy report. The cancer would have killed him in a few months.”

“I know, but I only wanted my papa. Nothing else,” Guntram whispered, leaning his head against the man's shoulder.

“Let me give you a new family; one that you can take care of. Let me love you as you deserve,” Konrad murmured, tightening his embrace. “I wasn't responsible for your father's death! He saved my ruling and gave you to me! He trusted me as to look after his only son! Why can't you trust me too? Didn't I protect you the minute I found you?”

“You were very kind to me. You saved my life.”

“Then, give me a chance to win your love. It's all I ask from you.”

Guntram tried to think the best course of action but he couldn't get his mind away from the memory of that morning's kiss, so he took the next logical step. He jumped to Konrad's lips and kissed him with all the accumulated desire for three months.

His initial surprise at his kitten's reaction let Konrad unarmed for an instant but his desire to taste once again those lips, driving him mad since the first minute he had seen the boy, clutching onto his enemy's arm, kicked him into reaction.

Both men kissed each other madly while Konrad swiftly lifted Guntram in his arms, too lost in the kisses, and leaned him against the wall, almost crushing him with his weight in his eagerness what was being offered to him with so much freedom and joy; without restraints or calculations. Something really pure and innocent. He could feel the boy returning his kisses with more fire than before and his ragged breathing and his heart pounding against his chest.

“Guntram, stop! I don't want to fuck you against a wall!” Konrad protested, letting the boy go. “You don't even have permission from a doctor!”

“But I do want it! More than ever before!” Guntram pleaded like he had never done before.

“I don't want to risk you for ten minutes fun! Stop right now! Our first time shouldn't be like this! Not against a wall! What you are going to give me it's very precious. Should not be wasted here.”

“In case you didn't notice, Konrad, I'm well worn out. Since I was nineteen,” Guntram huffed

“I didn't mean your virginity. It's your heart that I want. Forever. Till death do us part. I want you to be my Consort, not my friend. Would you take me?”

“Yes,” Guntram answered in a blink, his eyes lost in Konrad's.

“Why do I have the impression that we are forgetting something?” Konrad pondered in the terrace overlooking Piazza Nabona, where they had stopped for lunch after walking during the whole morning.

“I don't know. Do you have your agenda with you?”

“Right,” Konrad remembered his blackberry, hidden in his pocket and got it out, reading intently and fighting with the temptation to open his e-mails. “I forgot him! The cardinal. Finish your tea and we have to come back.”

“Why are you so upset that he visits you? He seems to be a cultivated man.”

“Because he wants to take my paintings away. For an exhibition at the Vatican.”

“You have fantastic pieces. Some of them are in history books! Why don't you let people to see them?”

“Because once they're ruined, there's nothing to be done! They don't belong to me, they belong to the family!”

“People behave in Museums!”

“I don't want my name made public. I hate publicity or the press.”

“You can always write “private collection”.”

“No, and that's final, Guntram.”

“It's a real pity. They're unique and inspiring.” He sighed dejectedly, but didn't press the issue any more.

Cardinal d'Annunzio couldn't believe his fortune. First, the boy's paintings were much better than you could see on a photo and had a classical style. The studies he was making for a portrait of an Argentinean priest and his pupils were exactly what he was looking for Cardinal Righi Molinari.

Lintorff had finally agreed to lend the two remaining panels of St. Catherine's Altarpiece from Bernardo Daddi and a work done by an Umbrian follower of Giotto di Bondone. The “Crucifixion” by Francesco Giotto, acquired in 2000 for half a million pounds was out of the question. 'Perhaps in a few years. One step at a time.'

“It was very generous of you to give him the paintings,” Guntram rearranged his head in Konrad's lap, as the man was mind absently caressing his light brown bangs while he read his e-mails on his blackberry.

“Does it make you happy?”

“Very much. They're wonderful and it's a shame that they're hidden here,” Guntram said softly.

“Not hidden. Protected. You never know what could happen. We have many enemies, kitten,” Konrad sighed.

“Constantin would cut himself an arm before doing something against them. Art is his true love in this world.” Guntram looked at Konrad in the eyes and the man bent his head to softly peck his lips.

“Repin is not my only enemy. He's just a nuisance for me. This is a very big game, kitten. Stay out of it.

There's nothing for you here.”