The Labyrinth of Love

Chapter Three

A bell rang, piercing through the stilly atmosphere of the room. Seconds after it went off, clipped footsteps approached, stopping outside the door. A knock and a responding grunt after, a middle-aged woman of average height and poised physique, walked in briskly. Her face was devoid of any emotion: not anger, not disgust, not anxiety, not joy, nothing. Her countenance was steely, her grey eyes, cold as winter, and her charcoal-coloured hair pulled down in a pristine chignon, not a strand of hair astray.

With a swift nod, she said, “Good morning, Mr. Galanis.” Her eyes never met him nor looked down.

“Gladys” his deep voice returned, flatly, perhaps in greeting, but most probably in recognition of her presence. His head was bent over some paperwork, and a ballpoint pen positioned between his right index and middle fingers was being wiggled. It was obvious that he had been in deep thought before her arrival.

He remarked with nonchalance, never once looking up at her, “Sit down. Stop hovering.”

Gladys did as she was told, with practiced ease and grace— within record time, back straight and not touching the backrest, legs crossed, head high, face forward, and countenance stolid. He stared at her, as though she had been the one who’d called him into her office and not the other way round. Her face remained on his forehead. He cleared his throat, still looking at her. It immediately dawned on her that she must have done something that demanded an apology without which he’d stare her down the rest of the day.

Wheels began turning in her head and she mentally went through the highlight of the previous day’s events— They’d had a meeting with the legal department and management of Vortex towards the imminent acquisition of a smaller Tech firm, he’d had lunch with his mother and sister, golfed at the country club with three of his associate, visited with miss Ivanov. She’d even documented the meeting and mailed it to him alongside his schedule for the next day. It was then she remembered that she’d only mailed the schedule this morning.

She cleared her throat and craned her neck even higher than one could think possible. “I apologize for mailing today’s schedule later than usual. I had a bit of an emergency this morning.” Her voice was stiff and her mouth dry.

“That won’t happen again, Gladys. Every minute of my time is accounted for. Time is money.” He said, slightly displeased, his tone clipped and his gaze disparaging. Gladys replied with a curt nod. She was used to his rather charming ways—unwittingly forthright, incredibly rude, well aware of his influence, affluence, and steely charm: which of course was only a nice way of saying ‘arrogant’, and often quite condescending.

Leon Galanis was famous for his enormous wealth, business acumen, and his physical appeal. He was an extremely handsome man; not in the soft beguiling sort of way, but ruggedly and arrogantly. The moment one saw him, they had to stare in, either awe or out of shock to their sensibilities. Everything about Leon exuded confidence and wicked charm, his features were edgy and rough but combined in a way that gave a godlike appeal. Everything about him was beautifully chaotic; where his hair was as dark as night, his eyes were as blue and bright as the morning sky; where his jaw was chiselled, he had dimples as beguiling as the song of a siren to seamen; where his nose was straight and uninteresting, his lips were as soft as a newborn and as pink as a swooned debutante. Having a perfectly toned physique, being 6’3 and olive-skinned added immensely to his mystique. Sitting in his swivel chair, Gladys thought he looked commanding, but she knew that if he stood up, boy was he domineering.

“Where are we on the nanny front?” He paid his attention fully to the documents he was leafing through and signing.

“Nowhere sir. I’m afraid the agencies are quite weary with us” She replied carefully.

“And what might that mean, Gladys? Weary’ that is” still not sparing her a glance.

“Weary because, every candidate that has been sent to us, has not met your standards, sir. Which is, of course, impeccable ...” She chipped in quickly before continuing, “...but constant rejection has seemed to make the agencies quite reluctant to send us any more candidates, sir.” In Leon’s presence, one had to be careful with their choice of words.

“That’s stupid. Do they not know who I am?” He snapped, tearing his eyes away from the document, finally, and glowering at her as if she was in charge of the agencies.

“I’m quite sure they know who you are sir.”

“Well, put a call across to Melanie, have her call as many agencies as there are in New York, and get me a damn nanny.”

“In danger of sounding impudent sir, I’ve already spoken to Melanie today. It's impossible to get a nanny for the rest of the week and some. The only option is waiting a week, the chances would have improved by then.” She left out the tirades that Melanie had thrown at him, and the fact that she’d maintained quite vehemently that it didn’t matter if there were a hundred available nannies, not that there were, she was sick and tired of assigning and reassigning nannies only to have every one of them returned. Not even one had been given a trial run. Some hadn’t even been interviewed before he sent them away. Gladys understood her frustration and knew how difficult being out of a job could be, so she’d quickly invented the a-week story rather than throwing Melanie under the bus.

“Damn Bertha for leaving us high and dry and making it so damn difficult to find a nanny nearly as perfect as she was.” Bertha had been an old, almost permanent fixture in the Galanis household. She was a stoic German who’d started as an au pair to Andreas Galanis—Leon’s Father— young, new to America, and barely spoke any English. She’d stayed on and had become a nanny to Leon and his sister, and when Leon’s daughter Anastasia was born she resumed her work as a nanny. Nanny Bertha was more a governess than a nanny—her method was strict and austere and so was she; prim and her physique statuesque, the model of proprietary and discipline, class and sophistication. However, Nanny Bertha had become too old to keep up with the effervescence of a toddler and had begun to slack. And if her ageing bones and softening tone weren’t enough to indicate her need to retire, taking ill and constantly daydreaming of returning to Berchtesgaden her hometown and where she must be buried, had driven home the point. So two months ago the Galanis family had sadly said their goodbyes to her and had her settled in a little cottage in her hometown with a caregiver in tow.

Mr. Galanis placed Nanny Bertha as the standard, and if one was being honest, nobody could measure up, as one had to be as stoic, plain, and austere as she was. One had to steer clear of colour, and soft material, one had not to smile unless it was extremely necessary and in such circumstances, a ghost of a smile was the only right kind, one had not to engage in playful activity and trivialities with the child, one had only to feed the child wholesome and healthy meals—soups, fruit and vegetables, and one had to possess the uncanny ability to fade into the background, be seen and not heard, speak only when spoken to—curtly and politely—with great reverence to their employer.

It was no great puzzle why no nanny had swayed him— No one in the 21st century could be a Nanny Bertha. Not even Nanny Bertha could be a Nanny Bertha had she been born anytime between the 80s and 90s. But it seemed a great puzzle and a cause for frustration to Leon Galanis.

“Can we get a Temp to cover for the week? I can’t afford to keep the house manager distracted with having to care for Anastasia, and in two days we’ll be headed to Santorini.” He asked then mused.

“I’ll see to that sir.”

“That will be all for now Gladys.” She nodded and rose to her feet, motioning towards the door.

“Oh and Gladys, I can trust your discretion not to mention the trip to Miss Ivanov?” His gaze fixed on her retreating figure.

Not turning back, but stopping in her tracks, she replied, “Absolutely, Sir.”

“Good.”

Leon returned to going through the enormous paperwork on his desk hoping to get through half of the pile before the day. These documents had sensitive information and as scrupulous and leery as he was he had to personally work through them, so far only Gladys had shown loyalty, but even with her, he was extremely careful, his father had taught him that much.