Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(38)

My face remains unreadable, but I’m starting to lose my temper with this little parasite.

“Andrew.” I try to remain as calm as possible. “I understand you’re taking your job very seriously, so am I. But I don’t recommend you lie about me on your reports.” See, Mr. Van Gatt doesn’t appreciate people who try to screw his daughter over. Oh God, it would’ve felt so good to say that!

“Oh, the little intern is threatening me...”

At this point, I just shrug my shoulders and look back at my screen. “Do as you wish, but don’t blame me if you lose your job afterward.”

His mouth opens wide in shock, but he finally decides to leave my desk.

I heave a deep sigh of relief.

Alright, Petra, back to work. I browse all my favorite artists and create a file of new, up-and-coming names who’ll need further research.

My plan has to be balanced between low-and high-risk investments. I take a numbers-focused approach like Alex advised, looking at the math, the statistics, and the projected returns in the short and long term...





Phew! I’ve been working tirelessly the entire afternoon; hours feel just like minutes. The artists—

“Petra?”

“God! You scared me.”

“It’s eight p.m. Everyone already left. What are you still doing here?” scolds Alex, standing before me.

He has finally removed his tie and opened his collar. Oh dear. My mouth goes dry looking at him, and I try hard not to gape. I wonder where is he heading next. To a dinner? A bar? Some exciting event? Maybe we could go together…

Get a grip, Petra! I look back at my screen and click print. “I was just finishing. When can I present you with my investment plan?”

“You already have one?”

“Yep,” I reply, collecting a thick stack of pages from the printer.

“Alright, pass by my office tomorrow, then. Now, let me call Anthony to take you home.”

I roll my eyes. “I can book an Uber.”

“I want to make sure you get home safely.”

“Ubers are safe.”

Nevertheless, Alex keeps holding his iPhone to his ear. “I know that, but not enough for my taste.”

“Pfff, you’re as controlling as Dad. Unbelievable.”

He walks a few steps in my direction. Standing in front of him, I can’t help but inhale his perfume. It’s so unique—sophisticated and old-school, yet daring and audacious. I wonder if he created it himself.

“Hi, Anthony. Ms. Van Gatt is ready to go home. Kindly pick her up at the headquarters. Thank you. Bye.” And he hangs up. “Anthony is gonna be here in five minutes.”

I let out a sigh, displeased. After all, while I’ll be heading to an empty home, my godfather will most likely be going to a very exciting place. “And you? Where are you going?”

“Always so damn curious, huh?” he teases, shaking his head in amusement. “I’ve got a dinner to go to.”

Of course you do. And I’ll be dining alone with my books. I nod pensively, trying to hide my disappointment. “Well, enjoy your dinner,” I reply, making my way toward the elevators.

But he reaches for my hand before I can do so. “Petra.”

“Yes?” I try hard not to blush as I look at him in the eye. He lets a corner smile escape but doesn’t say a word. Okay, he knows I’m blushing.

“Good night.” And he gives my hand a kiss like he always does.

“Good night, Alex.”





Falling asleep is just impossible. My mind has been ruminating for the last two hours. What if Alex doesn’t like my investment plan? Or what if some of the artists I’ve selected are not good enough? And, worse, what if he doesn’t approve any of them?

I glance at the clock. One a.m. Shit. How am I gonna wake up in time tomorrow? I can already hear Andrew rebuking, Late again, Williams?

I suddenly have an idea. I grab my iPhone and call Dad. After all, he’s the best person to take a look at it.

“Dad? Hi. Are you home? Can we meet in the library for a second? I need your input. Thank you. See you there.”

I put on a robe and head to the library with a copy of my investment plan.

Dad stands behind the desk, looking sleepily out the window at the darkness beyond. He’s wearing a long dark-blue velvet robe. Whatever the situation, I always find him formal and serious.

“What’s going on, Petra? It’s one a.m. I really hope it’s urgent.”

“I’m pitching my investment plan to Alex for my new fund tomorrow…”

“You’ve already finished your investment plan?”

“Yep, here.”

He starts reading the first page, then flicks through the rest. “And what are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know… Anything I’ve forgotten to include?” Dad keeps running his eyes over the papers. “Seems fine.” He hands me back the plan. “What will be crucial is your presentation. Alex won’t read this.”

What? Why did I spend so many hours working on an investment plan, then? “You’re telling me he’s not gonna read any of this?”

“Of course he won’t. You’ll have about ten minutes to tell him primarily why you chose those particular artists and what returns you can generate for the fund. That’s all.”