Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(25)

Lost in his blue eyes, I grin. He takes my hand, holding it firmly, and we walk together back through the gardens.





Jimmy Van Dieren





While Petra entertains her father’s friends, collecting their business cards, I sneak into the kitchen to throw away the empty bottle and put the glasses in the dishwasher. My mind, however, is far away. I feel strangely attracted to her energy. It’s so bright, so simple and pure. She’s such a mystery. An enigma. A paradox. I feel her so contained and rigid, yet looking for something more. A taste of freedom maybe? Some kind of romantic adventure? Or… like a bud waiting for the right season to bloom into the most beautiful flower. Damn, I grow hard at my own thoughts. Is she still a virgin?

“Are you drunk?”

I jump, hearing a voice coming from behind me. “Jeez, bro. You scared me. Of course not. I just drank one bottle with Petra.”

“Oh, really? So you steal wine now...”

But I’m not listening; my face is still beaming at the memory of that girl. “You were so right, bro. That chick is so high end and fucking hot; she gave me a boner in two seconds when we kissed. Most likely a virgin. This dusty event was worth it after all,” I praise, clapping him on the back.

I’m expecting some sort of cheerful reaction, but instead, I get brutally manhandled up against the dishwasher. “Look, you bastard, don’t ever talk about Petra like that again! Are we clear?”

“Cool down, man. Is she your girlfriend or what? Oh… you like her, don’t you?”

“Fuck, are you crazy? She is the daughter of my best friend, dumbass. Did you forget I’m her godfather?”

“So what? You’re not even related. But I must tell you, when we kissed by the lake and I slipped my tongue into her mouth, I bet her pussy got so—”

Alex grabs my T-shirt and makes a sudden move with his fist. “One more word and I’ll knock you into the middle of next week.”

“Alright, alright. You’re nuts sometimes. Jeez!”

He finally releases me, straightens his shoulders, and tries to regain his composure. But his angry glare says otherwise. “Get the fuck out of here.”





Petra Van Gatt





Everyone has left except Dad and me. Since we’ve been enjoying a late afternoon tea in Alex’s office, I decide to talk about Jimmy’s invitation, hoping my godfather will be on my side. After all, Jimmy is his brother and he is the one who introduced me to him.

“Dad? Jimmy is giving a concert followed by a party this Saturday night, and he invited me. May I go?”

Dad seems uncertain. “What do you think, Alex?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he replies sternly. “My brother is a bit… um… wild.”

“What? He seems perfectly fine. Please, Dad, I’ve never been to a concert before.”

“Indeed, and I’m very proud the crowd doesn’t scare you.” He pauses, thinking something through. “Alex? Would you mind joining Petra at the concert?”

But I interject, “No! Dad, I can bring Emma and the girls—they love his songs. We’ll be just fine. Please.”

“Petra, either Alex comes with you, or no concert and no party,” he snaps.

Looking at his face, my godfather doesn’t seem too enthusiastic either. “On a Saturday night? Roy, I mean… I’d love to, but I’ve got some commitments.”

“See? Please, Dad. I can go with the girls. I swear I’ll be fine,” I keep insisting.

“Sorry, Petra. I want a responsible adult with you. If your godfather can’t go, then I’m afraid you’ll have to cancel.”

“No! That’s so unfair. Alex, bring your date to the concert, then.”

“To a teen concert?”

“To your brother’s concert. You should be more supportive.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh God…”

“Hey, you are the one who introduced me to him, so now you have to endure the consequences.” I know that’s the killing argument.

Alex sighs loudly. “And I’m already regretting it.”

I, on the other hand, smile radiantly.





Chapter 7





Manhattan, June 1, 2019

Petra Van Gatt





I’m like a kid at Christmas as I eagerly look forward to Saturday night. Determined to spend the most amazing and memorable time with Jimmy, I decide to get some fashion advice and call Emma in the morning. I explain to her what happened at Alex’s estate and who I met.

“You need to look cool and confident, babygirl.”

We also agree I need a serious makeover for the evening. So Emma takes me to her all-time favorite hair salon—Hairroin, in Herald Square.

“She has to look older than seventeen. She’s going to a concert and needs to rock,” she explains to her second bestie, Alyssa Sholl—her hair stylist, or “Master Artist” as she calls her. Unsurprisingly, they both look exactly alike. Alyssa also has long dark hair, visible face piercings, and tattoos covering her upper arms and chest.

Alyssa has decided to dye my hair darker to make me look older. “Jet-black hair on your pale skin with your big blue eyes will blend perfectly.” She also does some wild waves, making my hair look denser and more voluminous.