Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(19)

We’ve been escorted to the nearest police station in a separate car. As we enter, Emma finally starts to feel the harsh reality. “We need your parents’ phone numbers here. And your IDs,” snaps the officer at reception.

“Yeah, right,” mumbles Emma, struggling to hold steady on her feet. “All you’ll get is the fucking number of my attorney.” She grasps the pen, bends slightly over the counter, and writes down her attorney’s information. While Emma has always been very secure and confident, even in the toughest situations, I, on the other hand, have no clue what to do. Heck, I don’t even have a lawyer. Only my dad. No, definitely not him! I will never write his phone number in a police station book. Dad will be so disappointed, feel so deceived. He’ll even punish me. Probably forbid me to see Emma ever again. What contact can I give them? I feel so anxious, my heart stuck in my throat. Emma hands me the pen. Now it’s my turn, and instinctively, I write down the only name I can think of.

Afterward, we are led to a cell by the same officer who drove us here. The cell is small with two wooden benches attached to the walls—one in front of the other. Empty, dark, and cold, it smells like aged sweat and urine. Yuck! Disgusting. I can even hear flies buzzing.

He locks us inside.

What a nightmare.

Emma lies on the first bench she sees, closes her eyes, a hand on her belly, and tries to contain the vodka that wants to come back up. She’s beyond drunk—the mix of alcohol and cocaine has left her semiconscious. I just hope she won’t throw up in the cell—the place’s already repugnant enough. I sit on the other bench, head down in my hands. I have no idea how long we’ll stay here. Ten minutes have passed, and yet it feels like an eternity. I look up at Emma, who seems to be dead asleep, and then back down again. My mind is lost and afraid, my eyes drop some tears. I dry them quickly, but they return and roll down my face. Fuck, I’m done.





Manhattan, May 18, 2019

Alexander Van Dieren





After our formal dinner, I head back to my condo in Manhattan. As I enter the hallway, I see Lucy already naked, kneeling on the marble floor, her head down and legs spread apart.

“Good evening, little Lucy.” I walk a few steps in her direction. “I’m glad to see you’re wearing your new collar and leash.”

“Good evening, my lord,” she replies, her voice low and soft.

I gently stroke the top of her head. “Are you hungry?”

She nods, her eyes down. “Yes, my lord.”

“Great. I’m dying to feed you.” I take her leash and little Lucy stands up, following me to the leather sofa in my living room.

There she sits astride me, devouring my mouth while hurriedly unfastening my belt.

“Such a hungry little slut. Take it easy.”

“My apologies, my lord,” she replies.

Lucy goes down on her knees again and pulls out my cock, but before she can suck me, I lift her chin up, though her stare always remains down. “Where are your manners, little Lucy? I don’t recall you asking.”

“My lord, may I suck your cock, please?”

“See? Much better.” I pat her head and lean back. “Good girl. You may do so.”

But my iPhone starts ringing.

“Shit. I’m sorry I forgot to turn this off.” I grab it from my pocket and frown instantly—I don’t recognize the number. That’s quite odd. Only family and close friends have my private contact. I decide to answer nevertheless. “Hi…? Yes, it’s me… What?” I push Lucy’s head away from my crotch. “Are you sure it’s her? What the—” I glance at my watch. “Who’s she with? Very well. I’ll be there soon.” I hang up and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, little Lucy. But we’ll have to play another time.” I kiss the top of her head, close my pants, fasten my belt, and leap off the sofa.

“But, my lord, I’m starving…”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have something to take care of.” Fuck. I shake my head in annoyance. Roy was right. That Emma is crazy. Seeing Lucy so sad and disappointed, I ask, “Tomorrow night, what do you think?”





Petra Van Gatt





After being locked up for an hour, Emma finally wakes up and starts searching her pockets, irritated. “Shit. They took everything. Not even a fucking cigarette left.”

“Shut up, Emma,” I shout, still agonizing over my fate, my legs trembling, head down.

Between panting breaths, I sob. “What am I gonna say to Dad? I’m done, Emma. Done. He’ll never let me see you ever again.”

Emma stands up, tries hard to walk properly, and sits beside me, putting an arm around my shoulder. “Shh... Babygirl, I promise we’ll get out of here before your dad finds out.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for that.”

We both stare outside, startled by the interruption and the familiar voice. I gasp in horror. It can’t get any worse!

“Alex? What are you doing here?”

“Mr. Van Dieren, please,” he corrects, standing on the other side of the bars. He looks sharp and fresh in a black two-piece suit with a slim white shirt, hands in his pockets. It looks like he just came from a party nearby. “Don’t you think the question is more the other way around?”