Not All Chocolate and Cuckoo Clocks Page 12

  So far they’d managed to miss each other at the office—either Steffen had sent one of his team or Mark had been out smoothing clients’ ruffled feathers. He didn’t think he’d be able to hide his reaction on seeing Steffen. “He’s coming here?”

  “Have you met in person? I only ever recall you being on teleconferences with him.”

  “Oh, we know each other.”

  “He is a great guy—partnering with his company was one of the best decisions the CEO made. And with some of our Swiss clients, it does not hurt to introduce a Gryse as part of the team—some people still value names over substance. Thankfully Steffen brings both.”

  Kaz bustled out of her office, and Mark returned to his desk. He caught a glimpse of Steffen from behind as he entered a meeting room. Mark wasn’t stupid. He knew Steffen was rich and well-connected, but he hadn’t thought it was more than a successful business along the line somewhere. By the sounds of it, the Gryses were more than just another wealthy family.

  His desk phone rang, distracting him, and the new long list of instructions meant he had no chance to go digging online to see if he could learn more about Steffen’s family. It wasn’t until two hours later that he escaped the maelstrom of spreadsheets to look up to see Steffen standing at his desk holding a small box of chocolates.

  “Busy day?” Steffen asked.

  “Everything was fine until someone realized they’d made comments on an old version of a report, annoying someone else and affecting several decisions made last week, so normal day, really.”

  Mark glanced around, but none of his colleagues appeared to be paying any notice to them. He tapped the box of chocolates, the sight of them making him put two and two together. “Have you been sneaking in here and leaving sweet treats?”

  Steffen opened the box and offered him one of a selection of amazing-looking chocolates. “I thought they would give you a little bit of a boost.”

  Steffen, for all his directness and bloody-mindedness, could be very sweet. If he wasn’t already head over heels for the sneaky bastard, this would have sealed it. He took a chocolate. “You’re not wrong there. They’ve been the highlight of some of my worst days.”

  “Then I may have to continue doing so.”

  “Mandatory.” Mark popped the chocolate into his mouth and moaned in pleasure at the burst of salted caramel that erupted across his tongue. “Oh God, that is amazing.”

  “I’m glad I have my uses.”

  “Speaking of which, Kaz said they’d called you in. Did you work your miracles?”

  “Of course. Are you finished for the day?”

  He’d intended to go to Steffen’s after work, as he’d all but moved in since returning from the UK, both of them keen to make as much as possible of the time they had left. Mark began shutting down his laptop. “Yeah, the rest can wait until tomorrow. Otherwise my eyes might start bleeding.”

  They left together, and again no one seemed to pay attention. “I might need to work later,” Steffen said, not sounding happy at the thought.

  “Would you prefer me to stay at my own place?”

  “No. I just wanted to warn you that I might need to shout at some Americans.” Mark shivered as they left; a few flakes of snow threatened more later. Thankfully they didn’t have to wait long to board a tram. “Did you speak to Kaz?”

  Mark had been too busy to dwell on what Kaz had said, and now he was thinking about it, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. While Kaz had told him to keep the information confidential, he needed to share this with Steffen. “She said she would hope to let me know before I leave. They might be expanding, so they might have something for me, but she can’t promise anything.”

  “I have a good feeling about this. Your bosses are not stupid. They know you are an excellent worker and good fit for the team.”

  “You,” he said, poking Steffen as they sat side by side, “are biased.”

  “I am not arguing that point. But I think this deserves some optimism.”

  Mark remembered Kaz’s comment about Steffen’s family. “There was something else I wanted to ask you. Kaz said having you on board helped because of the Gryse name—what did she mean by that?”

  “I love that you don’t know.”

  Mark scowled. “What’s that meant to mean?”

  Steffen leaned in closer, smiling, apparently not caring that he was showing they were so obviously a couple. “That you love me and not my name. I have lost count of the number of men who have tried to catch my eye only once they knew who I was.”

  “I bet you have used it to your advantage more than once,” Mark replied, raising an eyebrow.

  “I might have used my name to get what, and who, I have wanted, but as I said, I love that I did not need to with you. You love Steffen, not Dr. Gryse.”

  “You still haven’t said why I should care.”

  Steffen stood up, surprising Mark. “Our stop.”

  “You’re being a bugger.”

  Steffen laughed as they got off the tram. “I have always liked that English insult. Sounds so lovely unless you know what it really means.”

  “Steffen, stop teasing. Don’t make me have to google you—fuck knows what I’ll find.”

  “The Gryse family was what was known as a Patrician Family of Basel. We are what you would call old money. I made no secret that we are rich, and four centuries ago, we were very powerful. Still we have our influence.”

  Mark’s Swiss history was worse than his German language skills, but he grasped that Steffen’s family was not like his own common roots. “You’re really slumming it with me. The Timmels have no sway or influence, although I’ve never missed a rent payment, well, not since graduating.”

  “I would not have it any other way. Is this an issue?”

  They reached Steffen’s apartment, and Mark was relived to get out of the cold. “No, don’t be stupid. I’m just annoyed I wasn’t able to rub my sister’s nose in it that I had a rich and powerful Swiss boyfriend. You’re not some duke with a castle you’re not telling me about? That would be incredible.”

  “Not anymore.” Steffen unlocked the front door. “I think that went the way of the Holy Roman Empire. But we have some very nice properties—no castle, though.”

  “That is disappointing. I’m sure you can make it up to me by cooking dinner.”

  Mark sat at the kitchen counter as he watched Steffen start dinner. He could get used to this, a familiar domesticity that he’d never had before with a boyfriend, even with the one he’d briefly lived with. He loved the idea of coming home, chatting with Steffen as they cooked or shared a glass of wine. Some people might think him mad for even considering moving countries after such a short time, but they would be wrong, and he wouldn’t tire of defending himself and his decision. But they weren’t there yet. He still had to return to the UK, find a job, and then come back. That wouldn’t happen overnight.

  “I can hear you thinking.” Steffen set a glass of wine down in front of him. “What’s wrong? I thought you would be happy after speaking to Kaz.”

  “I guess the reality is setting in. We might have made up our minds, but even if Kaz can offer me something, it won’t happen quickly.”

  “That is clear. They will need to arrange your work permit, which in itself is not so straightforward, and I imagine there will need to be an agreement with the UK office when they would let you go.”

  “Yeah, probably three months if they hold me to my notice period,” Mark grumbled.

  “I will have the family lawyer look into the immigration proceedings in case there is something I have overlooked, but as best as I can tell, the easiest way for you to move here permanently without us having a registered partnership is for you to get a job in Basel.”

  “I guessed as much. I’ve been reading that the Swiss immigration is pretty strict.”

  “It can be. I even looked into the procedure of hiring you using my own company, but that would not stand up to scrutiny with the immigration depar
tment, and I do not want to jeopardize your chance of future permanent residency if we try and circumvent the rules. It all just takes time.”

  Steffen was right, and Mark knew it could be several months before anything was sorted, and even longer if he had to find a job with another company. “What do we do?”

  “There are planes and weekends. I checked the flights, and there are ones leaving here late on a Friday and returning late on a Sunday. And the same in the other direction, so while we might not be able to make every weekend, we will see each other as much as we can.”

  Mark loved that Steffen had been thinking about what they could do. Loved that he was as committed to making this work as Mark was. “I think we can be quite creative over Skype.”

  “Now you are thinking.” Steffen wrapped his arms around him. “We will make it happen.”

  The front door slammed, and Mark turned as he heard a woman’s voice call, “Steffen, bist du zu Hause?”

  “Oh fuck!” Steffen buried his head in his hands. “My mother is here. Why did I allow her to have a spare key?”

  Steffen had mentioned his mum several times, but the woman who sailed into the living room did not match the mental picture Mark had created of Josephine Gryse. Mark had expected someone older, more conservative, not a woman in her late fifties, wearing four-inch heels and dressed immaculately in black, apart from her dark red leather jacket.

  On seeing Mark, she smiled widely. “Oh, you must be Mark. Steffen has told me absolutely nothing about you, and if it was not for his dear sweet cousin Amelia, I would have not known about the man making my little boy so happy.”

  Her English, like her son’s, was excellent. Mark could see where Steffen had gotten his good looks. They’d spoken about Mark meeting Steffen’s parents but had agreed to wait until they could be more certain about their future plans.

  Steffen stepped forward to intercept. “Mama, was machst du hier?”

  “Now, now, Steffen, I heard your young man does not speak German yet, so do not be rude. Speak English.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Gryse,” Mark said, smiling at the looks mother and son were sharing.

  “Call me Josephine.” She took Mark by the arm, and before Steffen could protest further, she led Mark over to the sofa, sat down, and pulled Mark with her. “I cannot stay long, as Steffen’s father is waiting for me for dinner. I only came to drop off some embarrassing baby photos of Steffen, which you can look at later.” She placed a leather-bound album on the coffee table.

  “Mama!”

  “Hush, Steffen. It is your own fault. If you had brought Mark to see me like a civilized person, I would not have had to resort to this.”

  Mark tried not to laugh at Steffen’s obvious embarrassment. Steffen sat down in the nearby armchair. “I was going to.”

  Josephine tutted. “I have known you thirty-eight years, Steffen. Do not try to lie to me.” She turned to Mark. “Amelia tells me Steffen is enamored—is that the right word?—with you. I see why. You are very handsome.”

  “Well, I am enamored with Steffen too.”

  “Of course. You are serious about him, correct? I mean, I could not be happier to hear that Steffen has stopped sleeping around.”

  Another example of Gryse directness—Mark really should be getting used to it. Steffen’s mum seemed as much of a force of nature as her son, and like Steffen, she saw no reason to mess about with small talk when she wanted answers.

  “Extremely serious. I’m making plans to move to Basel permanently.”

  “Wunderbar!”

  As pleased as Mark was to hear Josephine approved, he’d expected Steffen’s mum to be more concerned about how fast their relationship had progressed. He doubted his own mother would be as relaxed about it. “I know it might look like we are moving too fast, but I want to assure—”

  “Pah!” she said, cutting Mark off. “I see Steffen has not told you about how I met his father.”

  Steffen groaned and slumped back in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “No, Josephine, he hasn’t. But I’d love to hear,” Mark said, and Steffen huffed.

  “You see, I am Steffen’s father’s second wife. My poor Hubert married too young, and although the Gryse family were happy, Hubert and Karolyn were not well matched. In order to recover from his divorce, he went on a Caribbean cruise. And we met aboard the ship.”

  “That sounds really romantic.” Mark flicked his gaze over to Steffen, who was busy staring at the ceiling. Mark guessed this was probably the hundredth time he’d heard the story.

  “I know. I was only eighteen and one of the entertainers, a showgirl, if you like. We met, and it was vibrant and passionate. We fell in love almost immediately.”

  “Wow.”

  That explained why she didn’t have a problem with him and Steffen.

  “As you can imagine, we had a bit of a bumpy start when we returned to Switzerland. Hubert’s mother was not in favor of our relationship and was particularly unhappy about me being ten years younger than Hubert, and a dancer. Who knows how much fuss she would have made if I had not been Swiss and from a good family.” She smirked, and boy did it remind Mark of Steffen. “I was a little wild in my youth.”

  “Weren’t we all.”

  She laughed. “But since I had claimed myself a Gryse, my mother suddenly did not care about my adventures. Especially as Steffen’s brother came along quickly, and she got the grandchild she desired, even if it did mean having to arrange a wedding at short notice.”

  Steffen stood up, his cheeks flaming. Mark didn’t think Steffen had anything to be troubled by, but he could understand that Steffen might not want to hear his mum being so open. “I need to check on something,” he said, leaving the room.

  Once Steffen was out of earshot, Josephine patted Mark’s knee. “As you can tell, Steffen is a little sensitive sometimes. He is like his father in that respect, but do not let it put you off. I meant it when I said I was happy to hear he was settling down. Nameless sex is fun for a while but not sustainable long-term.”

  Since she was being so candid, he thought he would take the opportunity to bring up something else. “Steffen had his reasons for his love life over the last few years, and he really would prefer people not mentioning his ex.”

  “What? Peter? But they were so suited…. A mother hopes the best for her son, and I did think they would find a way to rekindle what they had. Although now he has you, that is no longer a concern.”

  “I’m not sure you know the full story, and it is not my story to tell. But you can trust me on this. Peter was not the best for your son.” He hesitated as her eyes narrowed. “I might be, though.”

  She pinned him with a pointed stare, but it softened, and she nodded. “You know, I think you might be.”

  Steffen returned, and Josephine stood up. “I must go. I have done what I came to achieve.”

  Mark was a bit surprised when she kissed his cheek. She did the same to Steffen, although they exchanged some words in German that he couldn’t hear, and Steffen escorted her to the door.

  Josephine was great. She obviously adored her son, and Mark suspected telling her to back off over Peter might have won him even more brownie points. Mark grabbed the photo album and grinned at the first picture of a curly haired baby Steffen.

  Steffen glowered as he returned and saw Mark looking at the photos. “Give those to me.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, Steffen.” He held up the album and pointed to a picture of a three-year-old Steffen, wearing bright yellow dungarees and a garland of flowers around his head. “Y’know, I think I love your mum.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  MARK DIDN’T have a lot to pack, but filling his suitcases was bittersweet. In one way he was glad to be leaving his cramped accommodation, not that he’d spent that much time there during the last month, but in another, it meant he would be leaving Basel—and he didn’t know how long it would be before he returned for good.

  Steffen
handed him the last pile of clothes to be packed. “I know you wished Kaz could be more definite, but I believe she is trying her best.”

  “Yeah, well, a vague job offer, if they can sort out the paperwork and agree on a timeline with Reading to release me, wasn’t the ringing endorsement I was hoping for.”

  “We talked about this.”

  Mark sighed. He should have been happy that Kaz was willing to fight for him, but until he had a signed contract and concrete plans, he wouldn’t count his chickens. “I know. If they can’t sort something within three months, then I’ll start looking elsewhere in earnest. I just wish I knew. I hate all this uncertainty.”

  “I do too. We need to be patient.”

  He slammed shut his suitcase. “I hate the idea that tonight I will be back in the UK, on my own, when all I want is to be here with you.”

  Mark let Steffen pull him to his feet and into his arms. They’d spent the morning in bed, making as much of their final day as they could, and he had left the last of his packing as long as possible, but he couldn’t put it off any further, and he would need to leave for the airport soon. He melted into Steffen’s arms. A month ago, he’d been positive he’d be leaving morose and brokenhearted because there would be no way Steffen could return his feelings. Now he was upset and angry because he was having to leave the man who loved him back.

  “Remember that I feel the same. That this is finite. We will be together. In two weeks, you will be back here, and I have already booked my flight for two weeks after that.” Steffen gently kissed him, a whisper of lips that spoke of promises. “Now we know Kaz is trying, I will also speak to people. It will not hurt to let your management know I would consider them making a timely, right decision regarding you a personal favor to me.”

  “No, Steffen, I don’t think you should do that. Things are moving in the right direction, and I don’t want people to think I have this job because of you.”

  “Mark, no one will think that. It will become obvious sooner than later that we are together—people will realize why you chose to return to Basel.”