Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(14)

“Well, we kept the old Churchill feeling of it. After all, it’s Dad’s favorite part of the house.” His smile gets wider, and a glint of amusement settles in his gaze. “Now, let’s see the best part of the house.”

I invite him upstairs and unlock the door to a vast room full of paintings and books. An old record player is on the carpet with vinyls spread around, a desk with a Mac on the left, and a vanity space on the right turned into storage for my oil paints, tools, and brushes.

“Beautiful space you’ve got here. Disorganized but beautiful.”

“See? I still paint,” I say while showing him all my paintings including my newest, unfinished work.

“And your dad never comes here?”

“Nope, or Janine. This is my refuge.”

Hands in his pockets, Alex starts looking intently at my most recent ones. “You’ve made some good progress…” he utters with his usual sarcasm.

“Pfff, very funny,” I reply. “Look at this one. It’s my favorite.”

“Indeed, not bad. Do you sell them?”

My eyes widen in surprise. “Um, no.” I let out a quick giggle. “Who would buy them anyway?”

“You could open a gallery and invite your father’s friends and network for a preview. With the number of journalists we know, we could get you a lot of—”

“Thank you, Mr. Van Dieren,” I interpose. “I truly appreciate it, but my father already got me this internship, and I want to focus on that for now.”

“Very well. If you—” His phone starts ringing. After checking who’s calling, he decides not to take it. “I’m sorry, Ms. Van Gatt, but I have to go. Your father must be waiting for me downstairs.”

“Sure. Have a great evening.” I smile, trying to hide my disappointment in seeing him leave… again. Pfff. He wasn’t meant to be here anyway.

He reaches out, takes my hand, bowing slightly, and gives it a kiss.

I feel a shiver running down my entire spine. No one has ever done that before. I try to appear as unaffected as possible.

“It was an honor seeing you again, Ms. Van Gatt. I wish you a great night.”

I swallow nervously, still feeling his lips on my hand, and reply with a timid smile, then I escort him in silence to the entrance. I open the door—it feels heavier than usual.

“Oh, by the way”—he looks back at me—“I invited your dad to a dinner tomorrow at my estate. It’s going to be mostly executives in their forties and fifties talking about the most boring subjects, but if you are interested, you are most welcome to join.”

As he calls the elevator, I smile at the doors instantly opening.

“Thank you, Mr. Van Dieren. I appreciate the invitation,” I reply politely. “Have a great evening.”

We gaze at each other for a moment—the moment before the elevator closes completely on him.

Phew! He’s finally gone.

I remain stationary against the door while drowning dangerously in my once forgotten childhood memories. Did my godfather really come back? Did I just see him again?

I pick up my iPhone and start a text message to Emma: The Dutch hottie invited me to his house for a dinner tomorrow. Should I go?

What am I doing? Oh God, so stupid of me! I delete the message straightaway. Indeed, Emma has nothing to do with it. Plus, if she knows about the invite, she’ll try to join me just to hit on him, which would annoy everyone at the gathering. It’s a formal dinner after all, not a party.





Alexander Van Dieren





It feels quite strange to see Petra again. Damn, she grew up so fast. I mean, ten years. Although she’s older, her big blue eyes and cheeky smile remain exactly the same. Her curiosity is as annoying as it is funny, just like before. She’s so skinny though—does she eat properly?

“Ah! Here you are,” calls Roy, his face beaming with joy, as I step outside.

“So, Roy, where are we going? Can you tell me why we needed to meet here?”

“I didn’t want the journalists to follow. Get into the limo.”

I let out a sigh. “You know I hate limos.”

“You’re in New York now. Get used to it. C’mon!”

He looks quite excited as I get inside and close the door behind me. Strangely enough, there is no one in the limo but us. He gives me a glass of champagne, a big grin on his face, and we toast.

“I have a surprise for you,” he says. “It’s waiting in your condo.”

“A surprise for me? But Roy, it’s your birthday, not mine.”

“Consider it a welcome gift to the States.” I take another sip—a failed attempt to stop my curiosity from taunting me. “Once we get there, don’t mention either your first or last name, or mine. Okay?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Okay…”

And my curiosity keeps growing.

When the limo pulls up on my block, Roy barely contains his excitement. We get into the elevator and go up, and since he has a spare key to the condo, he opens the door and we step into the hallway.

“Wow.” My heart skips a beat at the sight of my gift. “Now that’s a surprise.”

Roy closes the door behind us and walks in her direction. “Do you like it? I named her Lucy. A blonde, sun-kissed, with brown eyes, just as you like.” I actually have a penchant for the opposite, but since the birth of his daughter, I’ve never told him.