MARK MUST have checked Kaz’s calendar twenty times to make sure she was free and he wouldn’t be disturbing her. It had taken until midafternoon to find a time when he could talk to her uninterrupted. Being the boss, Kaz was the only one with the luxury of her own office, the rest of them having to make do with sharing one large open space and a couple of meeting rooms that were strictly for client-related matters.
Her door was open, and she had her head down, typing furiously. Mark cleared his throat to get her attention, hoping she had meant it when she’d said he could come to her at any time if he had any questions or problems during his stint in Basel. Her head jerked up, and she looked slightly frantic for a moment. “Yes?”
She had a brusque manner, but he liked that he knew where he stood with her, unlike his first UK boss, who had been nice on the outside but willing to sacrifice anyone to save his own arse or get ahead. “Do you have a moment?”
“One minute, Mark. Let me finish this email. Come in and shut the door.” He did as he was told and sat in the chair opposite her.
She returned to her frantic typing. Whoever the recipient of that email, Mark guessed they were getting a very stern piece of Kaz’s mind. He caught a muttered Dummkopf as she finished with a final stab to her keyboard.
“Sorry, Mark. I do wonder if people read their emails before replying.” She smiled. “Is there anything wrong?”
“Not wrong exactly.” He’d discussed with Steffen what to say, how best to approach a potential move, and whether he should be open about his motives. “As you know, I only have a few more weeks left before I go back to the UK, and I hope you’ve been happy with how everything has gone and the work I’ve done.”
“You have done, and are still doing, a great job. I do not think we would have made such good progress with the Merri Project if you and Carl had not been here.”
He didn’t take compliments well, and he had to try hard not to get flustered. “I’m really glad to hear it, because I’m wondering if there is the possibility of continuing to work in Basel.”
She looked a bit confused. “You would like to extend your stay?”
“Not extend as such. I really like it here. The buzz of being at head office, the range of projects is wider here, from what I’ve seen, and I have become very fond of Basel itself.”
“Ah.” She sat back in her chair. “You mean a permanent transfer.”
“Yes.”
“Mark, if it were only my decision, I would take you tomorrow. Even if the UK office would kill me—I had to argue to have you here as long as we did. But I do not currently have an open position for you to fill.”
At least she hadn’t laughed in his face and told him never to darken her door again. “I see.”
“But let me talk to the management team. There are plans to expand in the coming months. You understand I cannot give you details, and I expect this information to remain confidential, but maybe there might be something.”
Mark’s heart leapt into his throat. He knew for now it was all ifs and maybes and nothing concrete, but it would make it all so much easier if he could stay with the company. “I would really appreciate it. But I have to ask, do you have a timeline?”
She laughed. “Spoken like a true project manager. But I have a counterquestion. Have you a personal deadline we should be aware of?”
“I don’t think so.”
“No offer from another company?” she prompted.
“Oh no, I came here first. I haven’t looked elsewhere.”
She peered over her glasses. “But it is a matter of time, right? You really want to be in Basel.”
Boy, she was shrewd, and for a moment she reminded him of his sister. “I suppose you could say that being in Basel will be a major factor driving my next career decision.”
“I understand. I am not Swiss. I came to Basel twenty-five years ago from Frankfurt after university for a job, met a Swiss man, and never left.” She smiled fondly. Her openness was refreshing, so rarely did anyone here speak about their personal situations, especially not with a relative stranger such as himself.
“I suppose you could say I’m in a similar situation. It happened faster than I was expecting, but I know moving here would be the right thing.”
“I am sure she is worth it.”
“He is.”
She didn’t flicker at his correction. “As I said, Mark, you are good at your job. The clients like you, your colleagues both here and in the UK respect your judgment, and I have been in this job long enough to do what I can to keep the good guys. I have a management team meeting next week. I can at least give you some idea of if it is feasible before you leave.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
Her iPhone chimed. “Sorry, Mark, emergency meeting. One of the IT architects has caused some… issues. Thankfully Steffen Gryse has agreed to come in and see what is possible, so I need to go hold hands and knock heads together.”
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 department, 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.”