Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(18)

We walk a bit further and find a velvet red curtain with a man in a black suit standing in front of it. Mike says some words in a language I can’t understand, and immediately the man lifts the curtain. I see stairs going down to a barely lit passage. My heart keeps thundering. Mike leads the way, and we follow.

We finally reach a black door. Mike knocks and someone opens it from the other side. He greets the doorman, and we enter into a house club featuring a big dance floor, chandeliers, and a young, flirty crowd. Girls are dancing with each other in short, skin-tight dresses under dark lights.

“What do you think, babygirl?” screams Emma in my ear right before draping an arm around my shoulder.

“You always know how to impress me,” I reply, my eyes taking in the club and its occupants.

“Let’s go, girls!” Mike grasps my hand and I take Emma’s as we follow him across the club.

We go upstairs to the area behind the DJ booth; the security guard lifts the velvet rope and lets us in. This space is even darker, with no strobe light, more intimate, but the tables are full. It looks quite pompous. Girls are young, some maybe barely twenty-one. Most are probably my age. Shit. I get it! This must be an illegal club. Oh God, I hope Dad never finds out.

Mike greets some friends who’re already sitting at his table. They all speak in a language I can’t discern.

“What language is that?” I finally dare to ask.

“Ukrainian,” replies Mike. “So what do you think?” he asks, seeing me visibly impressed by the place.

“I’ve never been to a club before,” I admit.

“It’s not just any club. It’s an exclusive one. You need to be a member to get in. Gar?on! Please bring us some bottles, two large Grey Goose, and some sodas to start.”





Emma’s already quite drunk as she devours the mouth of her new boy toy. From my side, I’m not having nearly as much fun. After being at this table for an hour, I’ve found the place to be full of dubious-looking people, with music that’s too loud, girls dressed like hookers flirting with creepy old men, and drugs offered everywhere. To say the least, I shouldn’t be here.

Mike shows me a silver tray with fine white powder lines. “Do you want some?”

“No, thank you,” I politely decline.

Mike turns the tray to his left. “Emma?”

“Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.” Emma takes a one-hundred-dollar bill from her pocket, rolls it up, puts it front of her right nostril, and sniffs half a line. I know Emma’s into that. I know she likes to consume drugs occasionally, “just for fun,” as she says.

My iPhone beeps.

I check the notification. It’s a new WhatsApp message from an unknown number.

Curious, I open it.

It was a pity you couldn’t join. I’d have been delighted to see you again. Hope you had a great evening nevertheless. See you soon, Alex.

What? I can’t believe it. Alexander Van Dieren texted? I check the profile photo. Damn. Definitely him.

I add him as a contact. I’m actually embarrassed to feel so excited to have his phone number, but after all, he’s my godfather—quite normal to have it.

I text him back in a formal tone. Thank you for your kind message. Have a great night. Cordially, Ms. Van Gatt. Perfect. Cold and distant enough. A gentle reminder to fuck off.

“Your boyfriend?” asks Mike, handing me a new glass of vodka and Coke, despite the fact that I didn’t even drink my first one.

“No. My godfather,” I reply.

“So no boyfriend?”

“Nope. No boyfriend.” I smile back. I’m not into him, but decide to be polite with some small talk. “What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”

But suddenly a security guard comes up to Mike and whispers in his ear. Mike's face becomes blank, then livid, then terribly serious.

“We need to go,” he commands, standing up. I leap off the sofa immediately. “Emma, Dimitry, we need to go.” His tone is quite severe. Not a good sign.

We are escorted to a small door at the back of the club. We go out to a dark, barely lit hallway. We start walking faster than usual, in a hurry to get outside and reach the road.

“New York Police! Don’t move! Hands in the air!” screams a man surrounded by six others. They seem to emerge out of nowhere, barring our way.

“What the fuck is happening?” Mike stands with his arms raised while an officer takes him down and handcuffs him.

“Dimitry Yurkovich and Mike Hawrylak, you are under arrest for the possession and distribution of illicit substances, and for operating a nightclub without license in the state of New York. You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions,” informs the officer. “Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning, now or in the future. Officers, handcuff the ladies too.”

Oh God! Why us? I try to remain as calm as possible, breathing deeply, but I’m already in tears. I can’t believe this nightmare! Are Dimitry and Mike part of a gang or the Ukrainian mafia? I look back at Emma hoping to find answers, but she’s so high that doesn’t even realize what’s happening. She even giggles, hugs, and tries to kiss the police officer who’s handcuffing her.