Love under contract by Karin Fromwald

me!” She felt his body against hers; he smelled strongly of alcohol.
    “Robert, stop it . . .” Zara turned her head; she didn’t want to look into his eyes. “You’re worse than any whore!” he shouted, and she felt his hand on her cheek. He had slapped her and her cheek was burning. “Are you crazy, let go of me immediately!” she screamed in rage. How dare he! Never before had a man hit her.
    “No, now I want what you promised me for so long!” He pressed himself against her and she hit him with her fists, as hard as she could.
    “Let me go immediately, do you want a scandal?!” That didn’t seem to matter at all to Robert at that moment; he had really had too much to drink and he wanted revenge. When Zara simply sent him his engagement ring back by messenger, he had become the laughing stock of the entire East Coast. The story made the newspapers, which carried headlines such as “Dispatched!” and “Not So Perfect After All!”  Everyone was laughing at him.
    Zara kicked him in the shins, and he screamed loudly. The bitch! She was kicking in every direction, like a maniac.
    “Come on, Robert, let her go!” Zara suddenly heard a familiar voice and over Robert’s shoulder, saw Gregor standing there. What was he doing here?  Not that she wasn’t happy that someone – anyone – was here to help her at this moment, but why him? Zara had to suppress a smile. How fitting that the conquering hero appears just in time to save the weak little princess.
    Robert released her quickly and half-turned toward Gregor.  “Don’t get involved in this; I’m collecting only what I’m entitled to!” Gregor stood there in his tuxedo, his hands in his pockets and said coolly, “You’re both alike; you used her for your political reputation in exactly the same way, so forget it and go!” His German accent was particularly strong as he said this, which emphasized the meaning of his words.
    Gregor saw Zara’s large round eyes and also saw her red cheek; he was furious and would have liked to punch Robert in the face himself.
    She had deserved the slap, he decided, and pursing his lips, he sighed.
    Robert did, in fact, step back to look at Zara. “We’re not done yet!” he shouted, but nonetheless he headed to the door and disappeared into the car waiting in front of the hotel.
    Gregor continued to stand there in front of Zara, who straightened her dress and her hairdo. She didn’t say anything. Her hair had become loose and the curls fell over her shoulders. Robert fit well into the game but he could have spared himself the slap, Zara thought briefly and stroked her burning cheek.
    Gregor looked at Zara calmly. “Is everything alright?” She just nodded. “Thank you,” she said then – and it wasn’t easy for her. “I’ll take you home,” he offered.
    “That won’t be necessary,” Zara responded quickly, although of course she wanted him to – it was exactly what she wanted, but she didn’t want to make it that easy for him.
    “I won’t bite, and I’m going almost the exact same way.” He knew where she lived, after all.
    She nodded. What else could she say?
    Acting the gentleman that he could be, he brought her the floor-length silk evening coat that matched her dress and placed it on her bare shoulders.
    His limousine waited in front of the hotel and the chauffeur opened the door for her; Gregor sat down beside her, and the car drove away.
    As they drove through Soho and they passed his house, she looked at him. She had been quiet up ‘til now, but had been playing with a large diamond ring on her right hand.
    “You live here, right?” He nodded. “Why?” “Oh, I wanted to rent an apartment there but then learned that a banker had bought the entire house.” She sighed and remembered the stone- and wood-floors. “I was the banker . . . and believe me, the house was a fixer-upper,” he said. Then, on the spur of the moment, it occurred to him to ask: “Would you like to see it?!”