The Art Of The Deal IV (Stocks And Bonds)

RIVERALLS FRONT
New Haven, Connecticut
 
Early That Morning
 
Steffen was jolted out of a peaceful sleep. Someone was ringing the doorbell.
 
The sound echoed throughout the quiet atmosphere of the bedroom.
 
Steffen blindly reached out for Isabella. His arm came to rest on the cool surface of empty space. He threw the covers aside, and sat up.

Where was Isabella he thought?
 
Most likely in the shower, he mentally answered his own question.
 
Steffen walked into his bedroom, lifted his brown velour brown robe, and put it on; he tied the robe belt. He returned to the bedroom he and Isabella shared. He headed for the bathroom to join Isabella for one those steamy morning showers they shared together.  He hoped she has not lathered up yet. He would love the pleasure to complete the task.
 
Last night he finally made the first attempt to try to secure their future of being together.
 
Steffen assumed he conveyed to Isabella in depth how he felt. He wondered should he have said more; he second guessed himself and assumed it was enough.
 
Steffen opened the bathroom door and peered inside. No shower was running. He pulled the bathroom door shut.
 
Maybe she was downstairs fixing or eating breakfast Steffen thought.
 
The doorbell consistently echoed.
 
Steffen walked down the four flights of staircases. He would have thought Isabella heard the doorbell as well. He walked through his living room, over to the door.
 
“Sig. Moran!” Steffen growled; he caught a glimpse of his silhouette standing through the paned glass.
 
Mr. Moran rang the doorbell again.

What the hell was he doing here? And why so early in the morning, Steffen thought.
 
Steffen moved to the entry door and opened it; he pulled the robe belt around his waist tighter and then opened the front door.
 
“Mr. Galeio, I am so sorry to inconvenience you.” Mr. Moran glanced down at his gold band Gucci watch. “So early in the light of day, but I was on my way to the airport, and since your residence was along the way. I decided to stop by. I really need to speak with you, and I promise not to detain your company longer than necessary.”
 
“How can I help you Sig. Moran?”
 
“I would like to give this to you on behalf of Miss. Tramaine.”
 
Mr. Moran reached inside the breast pocket of his Ralph Lauren grey suit jacket and withdrew a business card. He handed it to Steffen.
 
Steffen placed Mr. Moran’s business card inside the side pocket of his robe.
 
“You see Mr. Galeio, Estelle Luandrea, I’m sure you may have heard the name?”
 
“Estelle Luandrea,” Steffen repeated the name. “No mon, the name does not sound familiar to me in the least.”
 
“In that case. Estelle Luandrea is well known for their worldwide perfume avocation, hypoallergenic skin care emollients, and the Natural You cosmetic line. Recently their company launched their new perfume, Breathless. To simplify a long story. There is an increasingly ongoing international search for the perfect face. The spokesperson for the perfume, Breathless would appear in numerous commercials while endorsing their product line. We believe as of yesterday evening our search has ended. Meaning Mr. Galeio, The Board of Directors and I feel Miss. Tramaine is the perfect candidate.”
 
“Sig. Moran, I must advise you I am not Signorina Tramaine’s agent or her manager. You will have to speak to her directly. What I could do for you is give her your business card.”
 
Mr. Moran took a hunch.
 
“I do have a few minutes to spare before the departure of my flight. Would it be allowed if I can speak to Miss. Tramaine directly?”
 
Steffen was hard pressed for time. Apparently, this matter was very important for Mr. Moran to impose his company; maybe this blessing could be beneficial and profitable to his belle’s future.
 
“This matter is very important, and I shan’t take long.”
 
“Certainly, do come in.” Steffen opened the front door wider. He bypassed Mr. Moran as he entered to go through the entry door.
 
“Sig. Moran I will be with you momentarily,” Steffen voiced over his shoulder.
 
Steffen stood barefoot at the front door. He stepped out onto the partially dry cement and inhaled the fresh air. He tuned his hearing to the tranquil echoes of the Atlantic Ocean.
 
Steffen appraised the blacktop circular driveway for his awaiting limousine, or chauffeur. Neither was accounted for in its usual place and at the usual time. He scanned the area farthest to his left. He assumed by the early sunrise that the door to his car storage garage should be raised. His assumption was correct.
 
His car garage sheltered some of the most expensive and antique automobiles money can purchase: a Lamborghini Veneno, a Pagani Zonda, a Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita, a 1947 Bentley, a 1933 Duesenberg, a Lykan Hypersport, an Aston Martin Vanquish, a 1966 white Cadillac in mint condition, and his favorite, the Rolls-Royce Phantom, which happened to come into his possession for below the market value in an estate auction, all appeared to be in satisfactory condition.
 
“Good morning Sig. Galeio.”
 
“Good job my mon.”
 
“Thank you sir, I’ll be finish in a minute,” the teenager confirmed.
 
He continued to buff the chrome finish of one of Steffen’s vehicles.
 
“At least someone was earning their pay,” Steffen stated.
 
He silently praised the youngster down the road; he assigned the task of waxing all nine of his automobiles.
 
His chauffeur knew he was due at the airport seven o’clock sharp. So where the fuck was he?
 
The only reason he could excuse the absence of his chauffeur; if he was at the gas station fueling up.
 
Steffen turned around and entered through the front door. He closed it, and then entered through the entry door he slammed it shut.
 
“I will return will Isabella. You may take a seat if you prefer?”
 
“Thank you, don’t mind if I do.”
 
“Do excuse me mon.” Steffen walked away. “Isabella,” Steffen called out her name.
 
He walked into the kitchen. Nothing had been disturbed he returned to the living room.
 
Steffen climbed the first flight of stairs; he called out Isabella’s name. He moved on up to the second flight of stairs, and so forth. No female’s voice responded.
 
“Oh God, she didn’t. No she didn’t, leave?” Steffen stated in disbelief.
 
After last night, and the way they made love to one another.
 
Steffen recalled both took the leisure pleasure to touch one another. Isabella took his body to heights he never imagined the human body could experience at one given time. She teased him with her gentle non-hurried touches. She repeatedly made him cry out in physical mercy, and begged her to give in to his release.
 
Steffen’s body shuddered with the memory of the explosive spasmodic reaction Isabella sexually curved out of him, before she brought his body to an uncontrollable crowning of rapture. She allowed him the undisturbed sole pleasure of self-releasing himself. He called out her name from the beginning to the last drop. It was something definitely different behind the emotion on her behalf.
 
Steffen now wondered was it Isabella’s way of saying a silent goodbye. He did think it was rather unusual. Right after their repeated love making. She begged him to say he loved her. For his frigid emotional response. There were no whispered tender words of contentment, no last minute reality check with a quick kiss, and there were no spoken words exchanged. The only feelings that followed was physical staid in the aftermath and the muffling of human tears in his ears.
 
Steffen felt angered at himself for his ignorance. It never crossed his mind Isabella was pulling away for good.
 
Steffen entered the guest bedroom, walked over to the bed, and sat down. He reached for the telephone receiver, and lifted it from out the cradle. He dialed Isabella’s home telephone number. No sooner than his finger hit the last number, he replaced the telephone receiver back on the cradle.
 
Steffen rose and ran to the window.
 
His Jaguar was parked in the driveway as he left it.
 
So how did she leave he thought?
 
Steffen snapped his two fingers together.
 
“The limousine I bet, merda.”
 
He returned to the bed and sat back down on it. He lifted the telephone receiver and dialed his chauffeur’s cell phone number.
 
A telephone rang somewhere in his home.
 
“Maledizione,” Steffen yelled. He slammed the telephone receiver down in its cradle.
 
He was chagrined his chauffeur did not have his cell phone at his disposal. He lifted the telephone receiver, placed it up to his ear, and dialed the telephone in his limousine. No one answered it.
 
“Cazzo.”
 
Steffen slammed the telephone receiver back into the cradle. He threw his body back against the unmade bed and stared at the ceiling in disbelief; he wondered what the fuck went wrong. He linked his hands behind his neck; his elbow encountered a piece of paper.
 
Steffen sat up and eagerly grabbed it. He read the letter in silence.
 
My love. Please take care of yourself. I will not be the hindrance on your road to happiness or discovery. Therefore, enjoy your life. I know you will be successful in all your future endeavors. Isabella Tramaine
 
Steffen disapproved of the written text of Isabella’s message. He balled the piece of paper and threw it across the room.
 
“I don’t believe this merda!” Steffen’s mind vied for control of the situation. “She walked away from the relationship…, me, Steffen Galeio?” he voiced in astonishment. “No one walks away from me, no fucking one, bitch.” He then remembered this was the same situation he tried to free himself from.
 
The circumstances are different maledizione, his mind contested.
 
“Sig. Moran!”
 
Steffen remembered he left him downstairs unattended. He hurried down the four flight of stairs, and strolled into the living room.
 
“Please do forgive my lengthly absence, but I’m afraid Signorina Tramaine had other plans this morning.”
 
Steffen glanced at his chauffeur’s cell phone stationed on the glass top of a square table. He wished it could inform him of Isabella’s immediate whereabouts.
 
Mr. Moran stood and lifted his briefcase by the upright handle from off the Persian carpet.
 
“I should be going. I must say it was a very nice gathering yesterday.”
 
“Nice of you to attend.”
 
Steffen led Mr. Moran to the door.
 
Mr. Moran placed his briefcase down on an antique table near the door. He took out a small key from out his back pants pocket and inserted it inside the small lock. He opened his briefcase and removed a manila envelope.
 
“Here is a sneak preview of what my camera captured.”
 
Mr. Moran lifted several 8x10 black and white glossed photographs of Isabella from out the envelope and placed them on the table.
 
Both men looked down.
 
“I must say Miss. Tramaine is very photogenic from all angles.”
 
Mr. Moran lifted a photograph and held it up toward the chandelier lighting. He accepted great pleasure in his second field of interest, photography. His first title, Chairman and CEO of the National Bank of Camden, New Jersey.
 
“I displayed these same photographs to Mr. Banks, my freelance agent. He has the sole responsibility of Marketing and Advertising prestigious’ accounts, and it presently stands that one of his clients is none other than Estelle Luandrea; they are serious enough to propose contract negotiations with Miss. Tramaine.”
 
Steffen peered down at one of the photographs; he understood Mr. Moran’s point of view quite well.
 
God she was beautiful he thought.
 
She had just the right touch of feminine sensuality, and all his. He can only still hope.
 
Mr. Moran assembled the photographs and placed them back inside the manila envelope. He then placed the envelope back inside his black briefcase, closed it, and then secured the lock. Mr. Moran lifted the briefcase from off the table. He turned around to face Steffen, who was now walking toward the entry door.
 
Mr. Moran followed.
 
“May I be candid with you Mr. Galeio?”
 
“Do speak mon.”
 
“This conversation is not to be taken personally, but upon photographing the guests in general. I must comment on the fact I also photographed Miss. Tramaine talking and shaking hands with some of New York’s most elite and abroad citizens. Some men were prominent upstanding figures in the community, whereas, others were wealthy, and most were powerful men in their financial criterion. Yet, throughout all the proper introductions and small talk. Miss. Tramaine remained poised, unaffected by their status, and after overhearing the immense conversation she participated in. I must say Miss. Tramaine appeared to be very much informed. She consistently charmed everyone with her devastating smile and captivating eyes.”
 
Mr. Moran briefly escaped to his own world of daydreaming. His unscrupulous desires seized control of his common goal, money. Mr. Moran cleared his throat. He focused his attention on the unfinished task, business.
 
“In essence Mr. Galeio, that physical dimensional element about her is captured in each photograph. Estelle Luandrea loved the photographs of her. She would no doubt take New York by storm, as well as the fashion world. They love a fresh pretty face pardon the phrase. Hey, come to think of it. You two have been photographed dancing cheek-to-cheek at exclusive Manhattan trendy nightspots, and always leaving hand and hand. What’s the story behind you two, I must admit she is a very desirable woman, something even I can’t ignore.”
 
“Sig. Moran, pardon me, but I do have business at hand to attend too.”
 
“Oh yes. Excuse me, tell Isabella...”
 
“Signorina Tramaine,” Steffen corrected Mr. Moran.
 
“My apologies. Miss. Tramaine, to give me a call. Estelle Luandrea is truly interested in doing a photo shoot on her in three weeks. Mr. Banks and I are hoping Miss. Tramaine will consider becoming Estelle Luandrea’s spokesperson for their fragrance line, and spokesmodel for their cosmetic line. How do you think this will woo the purchaser’s attention? The slogan for their new perfume, Breathless will be promoted in its entirety,
 
“I’m swept away by your inner beauty; your cherished smile uplifts me, I, at far, long from you a soft touch, a second glance, a resounding spoken whisper carried away on a lingering response. Come, be mine, together we will soar. Touch me now, is this a dream? Could you be, can this be, it is. You are my treasured love; without a doubt you leave me breathless.”
 
“Personally Sig. Moran, I think the campaign slogan is in good taste,” Steffen praised. “However, one footnote in regards to this unorthodox business concept. It is best the deal of promoting Signorina Tramaine’s presence in this future business arrangement without her consent or knowledge, remains at that, business. You see Sig. Moran, I personally hold Signorina Tramaine’s welfare at heart, and I refuse to stand by and allow her to be misguided or mentally mistreated by you, your agent, or Estelle Luandrea. As I see it, if you are in this other than for business, then I suggest you leave. If not, then I can assume on Signorina Tramaine’s behalf, her attorney will be contacting you very soon.”
 
Mr. Moran could not believe the audacity of Steffen’s outspoken prerogative in Miss. Tramaine’s absence.
 
“Now that we understand each other clearly Sig. Moran. I really must get a move on things.”
 
Steffen held the entry door open for Mr. Moran’s departure.
 
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, where is Brianna?”
 
“Signorina Deavax will be relocating to one of my affiliating offices in Milan, Italy today.”
 
“Italy,” Mr. Moran repeated in surprise.
 
“Yes, also it's convenient for her to keep a watchful eye on her aunt.”
 
“The next time you speak with her, please give her my best wishes.” Mr. Moran opened the front door. “And thank you once again Mr. Galeio for inviting me to your dinner gathering. It paid off. Although, there is one more thing I would like to clarify with you before I leave your presence. I do not apply my skills of photography, only to come to misrepresent important clients. I can assure you Mr. Galeio this business deal will be handled as a business deal.”
 
“Fair enough. Then I wish you and Signorina Tramaine the very best of luck.”

Mr. Moran heard rumors Mr. Galeio is straight to the core when it involves money or business relations.
 
“Please give Miss. Tramaine my business card.”
 
“Without a doubt,” Steffen assured. He opened the front door and stepped aside.
 
Mr. Moran stepped out onto the morning air; he fished inside the side pocket of his coat for the keys to his black Lexus parked bilaterally to Steffen’s Jaguar.
 
Steffen stepped out the door; still there was no visible sign of his limousine. He stepped back inside and closed the front door; he then entered through the entry door and closed it. He dashed over to the cordless telephone on the table, lifted the receiver, and dialed Isabella’s residence number. He placed the receiver up to his ear.
 
No one answered; her answering machine screened the call. He slammed the telephone receiver on the table in frustration.
 
Steffen looked at the antique Grandfather clock.
 
The displayed time alerted him he had to get dress. He will retry Isabella’s residence telephone number after he has showered and changed.
 
TETERBORO AIRPORT
Teterboro, New Jersey
 
Steffen boarded his private Boeing Business Learjet. He removed his Moss Lipow sunglasses and placed them in the breast pocket of his Ermenegildo Zegna suit jacket. He took a seat in a tan leather reclining swivel chair at the head of an oval white granite conference table. He lifted his sunglasses from out his pocket and placed them on the table.
 
“Where is the limousine?”
 
Julius looked out the oval window onto the asphalt. He watched an airport valet drive Steffen’s Jaguar off the runway strip.
 
“It seems at the moment my limousine is at someone else’s disposal.”
 
“Sig. Galeio, the Co-pilot has informed me the Learjet will be delayed for twenty minutes or so, they’re refueling.”
 
“Do we have clearance from the tower?”
 
Steffen questioned.
 
“It has already been addressed signore, and Bruce and Cobra are presently in the galley. Therefore, in the meantime while we are waiting. I need to discuss with you the two most recent contract proposals you asked me to make adjustments to.”
 
“Has it been accomplished?”
 
“This is correct Sig. Galeio.”
 
Julius handed Steffen the first contract proposal.
 
Steffen gave his full attention to his business affairs he signed his signature to the legal contract affidavit and made it official. Steffen handed the signed contract proposal back to Julius.
 
“Also one more Sig. Galeio.”
 
Julius handed Steffen the second contract proposal.
 
Steffen took the moment to read the specific details; he then affixed his signature on the required line.
 
“This is done with.”
 
Steffen handed the contract proposal back to Julius.
 
“Sig. Galeio, you now have in your possession the La famiglia di Donateli contracted shipping accounts.”
 
“Yes,” Steffen exclaimed. He self-congratulated himself with two-balled fists of jubilation. “Was the old chap surprised?”
 
“Indeed he was,” Julius confirmed. “He could not understand, why after all these years that Galeio Shipping Company Incorporation would finally agree to represent his future shipping contract accounts.”
 
“It was a major decision on my part. The vendetta was between him and my late grandfather, not me. Believe me Julius, it was nothing personal on my behalf. It is always about business and money, which happens to be my late grandfather’s basic ideologies to survive by.”
 
Steffen’s feelings of self-worth comforted him despite the emotional pitfalls along the way. He beamed with pride over his attained two profitable shipping accounts.
 
The first contract was an import shipping account represented by Yukon car dealership, and the second contract was an import trans-travel shipping account of chief raw materials: iron, steel, coal, mineral, and oil, shipped through the waters of Italy and Sicily. The non-clause and ironclad contract was made possible by one of his late grandfather’s past archrival Giovonnio, the Don of the Sicilian famiglia Donateli.
 
Steffen rose, found his way over to a brown cushioned seat, and sat down.
 
The Co-pilot voiced over the intercom speaker the Learjet would be departing in less than two minutes.
 
Steffen strapped his seatbelt over his lap.
 
Julius planted his presence in a reclinging chair opposite of Steffen and clasped his seatbelt.
 
Bruce and Cobra joined the pair.
 
Each man sat down in a chair near the boarding hatch. Cobra and Bruce snapped their seatbelt over their lap
 
“Julius.”
 
“Yes Sig. Galeio.”
 
“As my Consulente legale, I must ask you. What could be more important or satisfying then having wealth?”
 
“Such a trivial question if I must say so signore.” Julius thought for a minute. “I would have to say having an intelligent and beautiful donna to spend it on and share it with.”
 
Julius had a good guess as to what was troubling his employer, a woman. Not any woman in this case, but a woman with the eyes the color of Americano dollars. It appears his employer has finally met someone to match his wits and warm his frosty demeanor.
 
“The request I phoned in from my car. Has it been addressed?”
 
“Yes Sig. Galeio it has been addressed.”
 
“Well, was there any luck reaching Signorina Tramaine?”
 
Reality clutched at Steffen’s heart again. This was the one emotion he tried so desperately not to associate himself with, too many complications he thought.
 
“No such luck signore.”
 
Steffen looked down at his wrist. His ESQ watch indicated the time lapse from the last time he saw Isabella. She should have reached Manhattan by now he pondered.
 
“Keep trying Signorina Tramaine’s residence until you reach her.”
 
“I’m on it signore,” Julius responded.
 
Steffen refused to accept the final ending of their relationship narrowed down to the text on a piece of paper. He could not understand after her and he shared their last encounter, how Isabella could convince herself it was only physical between them. He assumed she would understand his feelings for her after he confessed what was in his heart; then again, maybe it was not enough.
 
Steffen imagined he should have told Isabella how he really felt. Then maybe this entire conflict of interest would have turned out differently, and with a better understanding.
 
He knew since their relationship has taken a dramatic turn for uncertainty; he needed her now more than ever to personally tell him their relationship was over. His obstinate Galeio pride refused to forfeit the inevitable. Although, he set the pace for his own demise, why should it really matter to him to hear her say the words? It just does Steffen regarded to himself. He knew the stakes against him were getting too high.
 
Steffen’s Boeing Business Learjet inclined toward the eastern skies. He took a fragile moment to reflect on the perceptiveness of his past relationship with Isabella.
 
Did he make the right decision? Steffen for the first time answered his own questions. Of course he did he thought. He had no regrets and he did try to attempt to salvage the relationship. He tried to somehow imagine things between the two a talk of the past. Isabella’s final decision was fine with him; he did not need a donna in his life that much, and especially someone who would most likely dictate his whereabouts.
 
Steffen tried to shelter his emotions, but his heart overruled his mind’s conclusion. Isabella is much too refined for that, and the description did not fit her personage.
 
“Maledizione,” Steffen spoke aloud to himself.
 
“Sig. Galeio?”
 
“Hum.” Steffen released his precious thoughts.
 
“Is everything all right?” Julius delved.
 
“Yes, never been better. I was caught thinking from off the top of my head..., business wise.”
 
“This brief stay over in Germany will give me a sufficient amount of time to enjoy the beautiful donnes, the sunshine, and the beach’s white sand beneath my feet,” Julius vowed.
 
“Sounds to me like you have your agenda full there ole boy. In the meantime, you may hand me mine.”
 
“Certainly Sig. Galeio.”
 
Julius lifted his briefcase from off the carpet, balanced it on his lap, and opened it. He took out Steffen’s itinerary and upcoming daily agenda and then handed it to him.
 
Julius closed his briefcase and stationed it back near his chair.
 
Steffen glanced down at his daily agenda that was marked with a yellow highlighter. He glanced over his daily appointments and studied it in silence. He flipped the top page over and looked up.
 
“Julius, I have a business dinner scheduled this evening at the Rose Royce Country Club with a Sig. Estebuan Orenstein. It states here that Sig. Orenstein will be representing the Van de’ Hoff Steel Plant. Cocktails will be served at six o’clock with an open buffet, and then at eight o’clock sharp a sit down business contract negotiation will take place.”
 
Steffen placed the stack of stapled papers down on the Oakwood table in front of his seat.
 
Julius reached down at the side of his chair, grabbed his briefcase, and positioned it back on his lap. He opened it back up and removed a legal note pad and an ink pen. He placed his open briefcase on the table in front of his seat.
 
“Julius, I will require your attendance throughout this meeting, and due to the impairment of my German oral dialect. I will need a bilingual translator. In addition, make sure you take care of that request A.S.A.P., for the simple purpose. I require him or her to be in my conference two hours before cocktails. I may very well have to brief whomever about some key issues of the contract in both languages.”
 
Julius took relevant notes that pertained to his assigned task. He knew whenever his employer begin to speak in a business dialog, there is always a priority list to follow.
 
“Sig. Orenstein states in his memorandum his two financial advisors and two accountants will be present also. When this briefing has concluded. You are to get Jaron Cartel on the line, Tristano Giordano III, and also get James!”
 
Julius refrained from writing and looked up.
 
“Excuse me Sig. Galeio, but which one? James, your stockbroker, or James your shipping company’s trans-travel accountant.”
 
“Sig. James Kelsow,” Steffen clarified. “If there is stock to be invested here, I will like to buy as many shares as allowed. Moreover, if you can see to it firsthand that Jaron and Tristano correspond with me before this evening, via satellite if possible. I will definitely need Cartel’s insight at this meeting tonight. I require you to arrange that as soon as this flight lands. In addition, there is also one more thing I need for you to follow through with.”
 
“Si Sig. Galeio.”
 
“Before I become too engrossed in paper work. You are to attempt to make verbal contact with Signorina Tramaine every hour on the hour, until you have made contact. That will be all Julius; I believe this morning briefing is adjourned.”
 
“Si Sig. Galeio.”
 
Steffen enjoyed the rest of the overseas flight in silence.
 
 
 
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