Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(20)

“Does Dad know about this?” I ask nevertheless.

“Let’s get you out of here first, then we’ll talk, Ms. Van Gatt.” The police officer unlocks and opens the cell, but I’m still confused. “Now, kindly go to the car,” he snaps.

I look at Emma, wondering where her lawyer is. “Don’t worry, babygirl. I’ll be fine. My attorney is coming soon.”

“Mr. Van Dieren, can’t you pay her bail?”

“Let me talk to Emma about it. Now go to the car. The driver is waiting outside.”

I hug her tightly and leave the cell. As I pass by him, I can’t help but smile at his fragrance—it feels so good to finally smell something other than aged urine. The officer closes the door behind me, and I walk away.





Emma Hasenfratz





The Dutch hottie waits a few more seconds to be sure we are completely alone before talking to me.

“Now, back to us, Ms. Hasenfratz. Your attorney, Anna Griffith, is not coming anytime soon. I called your father and told him I’d take care of it. If you want to go home tonight, you better stop.”

“Stop what?” I snap instantly.

“Stop pushing my goddaughter into your pathetic and dangerous lifestyle.”

What? The Dutch hottie is Petra's godfather? Damn! “Who you think you are, huh? You don’t command me.”

“I think I’m the one who knows more about you than you can possibly imagine. And you, Emma? Who do you think you are? You think you are a big girl because you hang out in illegal clubs, consume cocaine, and nearly killed a poor guy with a baseball bat at your farewell party?”

My heart falls to the ground. I can’t believe it. How does he know all that? Who did he pay for that information? My dad surely doesn’t know about it.

“I told your dad I’d pay for your bail. Unless, of course, you want to stay here until you’re heard by a judge. In what, two, three days?”

I frown at his threats, my mind boiling with rage. I cross my arms and huff loudly. “Okay... What do you want?”

“Don’t drag Petra into your pathetic nightlife anymore. Are we clear?”

Fuck. No one’s ever talked to me like that. Not even my own parents. What a jerk. Unfortunately, we both know I’m not in a position to negotiate, so I have no choice but to accept. I nod icily.

Van Dieren calls back the officer to open the cell. I finally get out and find my driver waiting outside. But I don’t manage to see babygirl one last time before leaving. I just hope the Dutch hottie won’t say a word to her Dad. Roy really might forbid her from seeing me ever again.





Petra Van Gatt





Neither of us dares to talk, nor even look at each other. Our silence is colder than ice. Only the engine and occasional noise from outside can be heard. Alexander remains distant and serious, looking intently out the car window. After ten long minutes, I venture to ask again, in my most innocent and sweetest voice, “Does Dad know?”

But he doesn’t say a word. I hear nothing but his breath. My heart feels stuck in my throat, and I swallow hard.

“Not yet,” he snarls while staring absently outside.

Another minute of silence.

He lets out a sigh and turns his freezing glare at me. “You got really lucky I texted you. What would you have done if you didn’t have my number?”

My head remains down, but I can feel his judgmental eyes all over me like sharp arrows stabbing my spine. “I seriously don’t know.” I swallow my pride and face him again. Oh God. His stare is so disturbingly rigid. “Please don’t tell Dad. I promise I’ll never do it again. I couldn’t sleep, and Emma invited me out. I needed some fresh air. Please… it was the first and last time.”

“Why should I even believe you? I don’t know you.”

“Because”—I look briefly around, trying to find a viable excuse—“you’re my godfather.”

“Wow. So now you’re using the fact that I’m your godfather to hide this entire situation from him? Very well done, Ms. Van Gatt.”

Pfff. Sarcastic asshole. “It would be our secret…”

“Why should I do it for you? I don’t see the point.”

“I can’t believe we are negotiating.”

“Of course we are. What do I gain hiding the truth from your father?”

“Um, what do you want in return, then?” I ask.

He keeps looking idly ahead with a thoughtful expression. Probably amused by his little game, a smile escapes, but he tries to hide it by rubbing a finger over his lips. “First, you won’t see Emma for any more nights out, unless I’m around. That girl only brings you trouble. Second…” He pauses briefly. “You’ll show me your favorite art galleries around New York.”

I blink twice before I can articulate properly. “Wait. What? You could’ve asked a million things, but the one that came to your mind was being your tour guide?”

“Exactly. Proper ones are very expensive nowadays. I’m sure you know the best galleries to hang out in.”

Ugh. I cross my arms in displeasure. “I’m not sure if telling Dad was such a bad idea after all…”

“I can always call him.” And he pulls out his iPhone.