Into the Lion's Den by Tionne Rogers Read Free Book Online Page A

boss. I like him because he's not prissy or looking for trouble. A real working boy and paints really well. Those sketches are something else,” Oblomov chuckled.
    “Lenin would die again if he were to hear you. The working class represented by the grandchild of the Vicomte de Marignac?”
    “The irony of life. Should he not be up? Doesn't he have to go to work?”
    “Yes, but I let him be. He's not going to last long in that place, but you're right. He should be up and working,” Constantin chuckled visibly amused and relaxed.

The sunlight bathed Guntram's face and the brown bangs of his hair looked almost dark blond with some red strikes shinning. He looked very young and totally oblivious to everything. 'When was the last time that anyone felt safe as too sleep near me? He looks like a small child and completely trusts me. He has to be mine by reason or force.'
    Constantin thought as he was mesmerized looking at the chest slowly rising and falling. He approached the bed and sat on one side, softly shaking Guntram awake.
    “Wake up, it's time for breakfast,” he said kindly, devouring the boy with his eyes just for a second before he opened his eyes and returned to his normal blank face.
    Guntram seemed to be a little disoriented about the place but he shyly smiled when he saw Constantin. “Good morning. Sorry, I overslept. What time is it?”
    “Good morning. Around 11 a.m., I would say.”
    “So late? I'm dead. The manager will kill me and later resurrect me to make me finish the shift! I'm sorry but I have to go to work,” he said, jumping out of the bed and nearly tripping with the too long pyjama trousers.
    “Some people still dream about not studying for a school test but it seems you dream about your boss,”
    Constantin chuckled.
    “You would also dream about him if he were your boss,” he said in a hurry before disappearing into the bathroom. The Russian stood up and left the room to meet Oblomov, who was sitting at the dinning table and having a coffee while he checked his computer.
    “Is he up?”
    “On the brink of a heart attack because he's late for work.”
    “Are those people still existing boss?” The giant chortled.
    “It seems,” Constantin replied, sitting in front of him and starting to look into his own laptop.
    “I'm sorry to disturb you Constantin, but I wanted to say good-bye before I leave,” Guntram said timidly from the door without entering the dinning room.
    “Come, have something for breakfast with us. You're already late.”
    “No, thank you. I go to work now or he will make me double the shift for a whole week.”
    “Is that legal?” Constantin asked while Oblomov smirked.
    “In a twenty percent unemployment country, yes it is.”
    “Come to have dinner with me when you're finished. Oblomov still has to choose what he likes best.”
    “Impressive job, boy. What are you going to use? Watercolours?”
    “No, pastels. I have paper for that, Ivan Ivanovich.”
    “Your working day is lost, boy. Stay here and finish your work. No one will bother you.”
    “I can't, I'll finish it in the night. I think I could have it ready for Tuesday if you leave on Wednesday.”
    “Thank you, Guntram. Do you need a lift? My chauffeur is doing nothing at the moment.”
    “No, thank you. I'll take the bus. Good-bye, Constantin.”
    “At seven here, Guntram,” he only said, boring holes with his gaze into the lad's face.

Martin, the manager, went ballistic when he saw Guntram coming in so late. “You start at 9:00 and do you dare to show your sorry face at 11:30? You're recovering those extra hours. Today you go at 8:00 and be glad I don't fire you!” he shouted before leaving the bar counter and returning to his office.
    Guntram sighed and picked up a rag and started to dry glasses and fill the small complimentary dishes. “Till eight? That's sound like four hours more to me,” Luis mumbled. “Motherfucker. See what you get for being the Employee of the Month? Nothing.