Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(110)

Pfff, I can’t believe this woman married a man who kills animals for pleasure. She looks so lovely and caring. “Sure, sounds great.”





Chapter 27





Alexander Van Dieren





A couple of hours later, it’s finally time for my sisters to leave the estate. Petra wanted to see the other kids, but they were already seated in their respective cars, patiently waiting for their parents to finish their goodbyes and small talk.

Once they are gone, Petra and I wish good night to my mother and Roy, but they don’t seem to be paying much attention to us. We find them happily chatting in the petit salon—a cozy sitting room with a bright fireplace. I hold Petra’s hand and we go upstairs, excited like teenagers. We cross the hallway, past my sisters’ bedrooms, and at the very end, I open a door, welcoming her inside.

“This is your bedroom?” she gasps while taking in her surroundings. “Wow. You’re kidding me. This is probably bigger than most apartments in Manhattan.”

“Yep. And I never brought anyone here,” I reply, hands in pockets, caressing her panties. I love the fact she doesn’t even remember I have them in here.

“What do you mean?”

“My mother is very... um… old-fashioned.”

“So why does she accept me staying over?”

“Well, according to her, only the woman I will marry can bed me under her roof. And since I never intended to marry anyone before…” She blushes at my answer, but her eyes remain glued to the wall, which features framed photos of my equestrian competitions and polo games, accolades, some horse riding implements, and trophies standing on a chest of drawers.

“It’s hard to believe you were a professional equestrian.”

I chuckle. “Indeed, time flies.”

She points to one of the frames where I’m on a horse performing a working trot. “What kind of competition is this?”

“This one was a long time ago. I was maybe twenty-six there.” I smile, recalling the memories. “It’s an upper-level dressage competition.”

Petra raises an eyebrow. “A what?”

“I taught you that, Ms. Van Gatt.” We look at each other and chuckle. “Alright, you were maybe slightly too young to remember.”

My eyes instantly lock with hers. Fuck, I just want to pin her against this wall, spread her legs wide, wrap them around my waist, and do everything I’ve pictured the entire evening. But instead, I take a deep breath and remain as courteous as possible as I explain, “It’s a highly skilled competition where judges assess how well-disciplined a horse is for its rider. For that purpose, the animal is trained to perform from memory a series of predetermined movements, like a choreography.”

She doesn’t seem impressed. “That’s it?”

“It’s an art, Petra. Even if it’s only pursued for the sake of mastery.” Dear Lord, why are we still talking?





Petra Van Gatt





I try to find the excitement behind such “art” while scrutinizing his memories on the wall. “Did you hit your horse with this?” I point at the riding crop that’s next to the frames and awards.

“Well, it’s normal.” He starts chuckling. “You want him to be obedient. If you’re not strict, he’ll never get trained. But don’t worry, there are specific rules in competitions—you can’t just strike your horse as it pleases you.”

Although I know he’s genuinely talking about horses, the talk with Margaret strangely resonates through me and seems less blurry. He has always loved equestrianism and has transmitted this passion to me, but I’ll never understand why whipping a poor animal is considered an art. The art I know and love doesn’t require any type of violence.

“I could never hurt an animal for the sake of awards or training. Sounds barbaric,” I snap to demonstrate my firm stance against animal brutality.

Alex smiles with great amusement. “I know. You used to be afraid you’d be too heavy for the pony.” He laughs hard, shaking his head. “You, a tiny little thing, thought you could hurt a pony. You are so funny, Ms. Van Gatt.”

“That’s me.” I smile back at him, and before he can reach me for a kiss, I see a half-open door with access to another room. “What’s over there?”

Alex lets out a sigh, displeased to have been thwarted. “My study and library, Ms. Curiosity.”

I skip over joyfully. Alex follows behind me. I gasp in admiration at the two-level library linked with a spiral staircase. I feel like I’m in heaven with the walls of books. This library and office space feels like a hidden secret room. I love it!

“So many books! Have you read them all?” I take one from the shelves that looks quite dated and dusty—maybe a first edition—and look at the back cover, intrigued. I can already picture myself stealing it to read tomorrow.

Suddenly, I hear him unfastening his belt and unzipping his pants.

“What are you doing?” I snap while trying to turn around. But he holds me tight against him, grabs the back of my neck, and bends me over his desk, my face resting flat on it.

“I need to fuck you now,” he growls hurriedly while lifting my dress up.