Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(12)

I feel tears coursing down my face, just like when I turned eight and he didn’t come to my birthday. I dry them quickly and look for a restroom nearby. I’ll leave the party right after I freshen up.

“Ah, Petra! Finally, here you are,” shouts Dad. “I would love to reintroduce you to someone you haven’t seen for ages.”

“Dad, thank you, but I’m very busy now.” There is no way I’d meet him again. He’s dead, buried, and well gone.

“Such nonsense," he protests, holding my arms, but I refuse and free myself.

“I have to go to the bathroom. I’m sorry.” And in a fraction of a second, I disappear from his sight, running away.





In the ladies’ restroom, I’m finally alone. Yes, totally alone. Phew! Solitude is such a good friend. I glance at my face in the mirror. I’m pale, white like a ghost. I open my clutch but realize I only have gloss in it, and no medicine whatsoever. I should have listened to Janine. I take a seat in the chair next to the sinks, and breathe.

“Hello, babygirl!” Emma steps in with a big grin on her face. She stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her dress and push-up bra. “You have no idea who your daddy just introduced me to.” I ignore her. “The hottest man alive. Seriously, that Dutch man is so hot. Have you seen him? With that sun-kissed skin, and his smell? His scent would drive any woman crazy. Can’t believe Roy has such a hottie friend. What’s wrong, Petra? You look pale. Are you alright?”

“Hmm… I’m not feeling that well.”

“A panic attack? Now that I was finally having fun? You need to chill, girl. Did you take your medicine?” I shake my head. “You know what? You need to meet that hottie. From what I understand, he just moved from Amsterdam and is separated,” she adds while applying some blush. “He’ll need some company here in New York. Can I hit on him, or do you want him for yourself? I mean, no offense, babygirl, but he needs a confident, strong, and experienced woman with whom he can have some fun, you know. And you are not really… well… the right fit.”

I couldn’t care any less. I just want to be alone in this goddamn bathroom. “He’s all yours, Emma. I have no interest to even see him.”

“Okay, great. Problem solved.” She closes her makeup palette, triumphant. “Now, why are you so pale? Do you want me to call a doctor? Janine maybe? Do you want water? Some blush?”

“No, that’s fine. I’m gonna go home and rest.”

“Alright, alright…” Emma mumbles while styling her hair once more. “Don’t worry, babygirl, it’ll pass.” She checks the overall look and shape of her dress. “Well, I have a man to catch. Laters.” And, satisfied, she leaves.

I heave a sigh of relief. Emma talks way too much. In silence, I’m finally breathing again. I look at my pale, skinny figure in the mirror, splash some fresh water on my face, take a deep breath, and remain there for five more minutes, savoring the precious quiet, before facing my worst enemy—the crowd. A crowd like tonight is hell on earth to me. From the loud music, hypocritical people, and fake smiles to the judgmental stares, irritating laughter, and nasty comments behind my back... Argh! I can’t stand it any longer. My head feels like exploding. Probably a headache. I have to go home. After all, no one will be there to bother or force me to meet people I don’t want to. People like Alex, who disappears for ten years without saying a word.

Making a quick exit, I head to the front entrance and find a black executive Mercedes S-Class with a driver waiting outside. Such luck. I race down the stairs, greet the man who opens the rear door, and hasten to sit before anyone can see me. He closes the door behind me and sits in front. “Five-Fifteen Park Avenue, please,” I instruct. Finally inside! I made it! I heave a sigh of relief, but suddenly hear the rear door from the other side opening.

“Ms. Van Gatt?”

“Mr. Van Dieren?” I gasp before swallowing hard. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was your driver. I’ll take another one.” Looking a bit farther, I can see that Alex is alone. Where’s Emma?

“Nonsense, kindly stay.” He gets in and sits beside me. I can smell his perfume quite sharply. Damn. It’s exactly the same from my childhood. “Same destination for me, please.”

And before I can open my door, it locks automatically and the car starts moving. Shit.

“It’s been such a long time. You look”—he checks me out from top to bottom—“well… different.”

“Ten years,” I snap.

He annoyingly smiles. “Such a grown-up now. I bet you don’t watch cartoons anymore.”

Ha ha, so funny. “Indeed I don’t. I’m into reading, riding horses, and painting.” I’m so mad at him, but keep the conversation polite nevertheless. “What brought you to New York? Dad’s birthday? Work? Women?” But my tone is not as polite as I wanted, rather annoyed, defiant, and nearly rude by the end.

“Many things, Ms. Van Gatt, many things… Your dad’s birthday, work,” he adds. “I’m undertaking a new job here at the headquarters.”

“A new job? So you are moving here?”

“I am. By the way, why didn’t I see you at the party?”

“I was… not feeling well… so I only went in briefly.”