Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(107)

“Still alive?”

“God! You scared me. Of course I’m still alive.” I love seeing Alex standing in this corridor alone—I’ve missed his lips so much. But Margaret or any member of the staff could come by at any moment, and tonight is definitely not the right one to make a bad impression.

“How was it?”

“Great actually. The room is wonderful. Such an amazing art collection. I wish Dad could’ve seen it.”

“I wasn’t talking about the room…”

I knew he wasn’t, but I had to try nevertheless. “Oh, Margaret is great too.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Great? Really? Petra, you can tell me the truth.”

“I’m serious. She was just trying to get a sense of who I am. It’s alright. She cares a lot about you and wants to make sure I’m not some psycho stealing her precious son.”

He nods, and before I can blink, he snatches me up and shoves me against the wall, pinning me with his body. Holy shit! He parts my legs, lifts me, and presses his erection between them. Fuck, I can feel his cock already so big and hard. He starts humping against me, my legs wrapped around his waist, while devouring my mouth with such greed I can barely breathe. Oh, dear Lord... “Alex, not here.” I manage to mumble while he’s sucking my neck.

“Let’s do it quick before dinner,” he growls, in a hurry to unfasten his belt.

What? He’s crazy! My eyes can’t stop darting around. All of a sudden, we hear silverware clanging and footsteps coming. Alex closes his belt immediately, wipes my gloss from his mouth, and takes a step back while I smooth my dress and hair. We see a waiter crossing the perpendicular hallway, carrying a big tray of food to the dining room. Alex chuckles. But not me. “It’s not funny. Your entire family is here. My own father is here. Kids are playing around. They don’t need to see this,” I scold. But he has that cheeky smile on his face.

“You are right, Ms. Van Gatt.” He takes a step forward, puts his hands under my dress, reaches for my panties, and pushes them slowly down my legs.

“What are you doing?” I snap.

“I want them,” he gently asserts.

“I can’t have dinner without them.”

“Of course you can.”

I’m shaking my head while involuntarily lifting each foot. I can see my panties in his hand—a black lace thong with a bow at the back, just like he’d instructed me to bring.

He smiles victoriously and slowly stands up while caressing my legs, then shoves my thong into his pants pocket. I huff and fold my arms, displeased, but he licks his lips and meets my eyes again. “Before we go, kindly listen carefully,” he begins. “When you go to sit, discreetly lift the back of your dress up so your pussy touches the chair.” I gasp at his words. “Then, bring yourself close to the table, your posture always straight, your elbows down, your legs slightly open and never crossed.” I giggle but not at him. “I’m serious, Petra. Do you understand?”

I nod.

“Perfect, let’s go. We are late.”





It’s an intimate dinner with only ten guests, which includes Margaret herself, sitting at the head of the table, Alex on her left, me at his side, and Dad on Margaret’s right (which would usually be Julia’s seat). Their offspring are having dinner in a separate room with their respective governesses and nannies. I can’t help but wonder why each daughter has a governess and a nanny—what is the difference? Julia, the oldest, even has two. Why so much help? I blink at the sound of Julia’s voice among the laughter. Apparently, she seems to be telling a joke that caught everyone’s attention but me.

“So he turns to me and says, ‘No, your Honor, I don’t have any.’ So I ask him, ‘Why are you lying? We know you have a boat; we need to account for all the assets in the divorce.’ And he finally turns to us, his face as red as a lobster, screaming, ‘Because it already belongs to her!’” Everyone bursts out laughing, but I didn’t catch the first part of the story.

Alex notices. “Julia was telling us one of her many stories in divorce court. This guy put the ownership of his boat in his wife’s name to avoid paying taxes, and when she wanted the boat, he said he didn’t have one because it was already hers, crying like a baby in court, since he’d had a prenup to protect his ass,” he explains, laughing.

“Alex!” snaps Margaret, irritated by his vulgarity.

“Assets, I meant.”

I can’t stop chuckling. It’s so hilarious seeing him being reprimanded for once. “You only handle divorce cases, Julia?” I ask.

“I do family law, which includes divorces, custody of children, domestic abuse, and so on.”

“Oh, my mother has actually been helping women of humble background get decent lawyers in court.”

“Very noble of her. What’s her name? Maybe I know her.”

I glance at Dad, but he’s entertained discussing something with Margaret. “Tess Hagen,” I reply. Julia tries to contain her surprise, taking a sip of her water. “Do you know her?”

She swallows and seems to be measuring her words. “I know a Tess Hagen, yes… She also finances political causes, if I’m not mistaken…”

“Julia,” trills Margaret. “No politics at the table!”