Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(44)

Definitely not! I feel extremely embarrassed to see my godfather in such a private and intimate venue without his knowledge. After all, neither he nor Dad know I’m here. And I’ve got the firm intention of keeping it that way. It’s hard to shift my attention to somewhere else though. I can’t stop wondering what he is saying to make those girls beam with joy, laugh, and grin so much. I notice how their gazes are drawn to him, to his blue eyes, to his sun-kissed skin contrasting with the crisp white of his shirt... A glass of whiskey in hand, Alex is sitting with three flirty models and another male friend—definitely not Dad, but he looks to be fifty-something.

“Rach! He’s looking over here,” shouts Jess.

Oh God… I turn my back and face away as much as possible.

A waiter holding a tray stops at our table. “Did you order five tequila shots?”

“Yeah! That’s for us. Exactly what we needed.”

“Jess, I told you I’m not drinking.”

“Oh, Williams, it’s just one shot to celebrate. It’s nothing. You need to chill. You know, a lot of interns do way worse than this to keep up with the pressure.”

“Well, I don’t…”

“Just one shot. To toast to our new friendship and our upcoming trip to Rome.”

How can I possibly decline? I stare timidly back at Van Dieren’s table, hoping he would’ve left with someone. I wince instantly. Shit. I think he saw me.

We all clink our glasses in excitement, and I close my eyes to drink the shot all at once—just like my new friends. I don’t dare to look around. Alex might still be at that table, maybe even staring at me!

“Hey, next round on me,” orders Rach to the waiter.

A few moments later, another round of tequila shots are being served.

I feel like I should decline. “I can’t drink anymore.”

“No way! Please. Just one more for me, Williams,” she implores, handing me a new glass. “You can’t cheer on Jess’s toast and not do the same with mine. That would be super rude. Plus, we are on the same team.”

I sigh, accepting the new tequila shot. I can only hope my godfather is otherwise too distracted kissing some random mouth at his table to notice. I take a quick sip then drink it all at once. I frown at the strong taste going down my throat. Yuck!

My iPhone beeps.

Probably a WhatsApp message. Must be Emma sharing envious pictures in the south of France to tease me. But this time, I’m also having fun and ready to fight back with a photo in this lounge with my new friends.

I know you are here. I can see you right in front of me.

Not Emma. Nope.

I’m instantly paralyzed. Glancing over, I can see Alex glaring at me and shaking his head. He’s not happy.

Another text. Go outside. We need to talk.

I swallow hard. It doesn’t sound good at all.

“I’m sorry, girls. I’m just going to the bathroom,” I say before standing up, my heartbeat pounding anxiously. I walk through the lounge and make my way out.





“I’m sure your father will be very proud of you.” I know he’s being sarcastic. “Drinking tequila shots? Really? Let me guess, you’ve also got a fake ID in your purse for the next round?” How does he know that? “I’m tired of keeping secrets from Roy; he needs to know about your behavior. You’re not yet an adult, Petra, so don’t act like you are.”

“If you tell him, I’ll share your private number with all the interns, including Rach and Jess. They were quite explicit about what they would do to you.”

“Oh, great. Now my goddaughter is threatening me?”

“Correction: I’m negotiating. That’s what you always told me to do.”

His scowl softens with a suppressed laugh. “Alright, I won’t tell him, but now it’s time for you to go home.”

“I’m not gonna spend another evening alone.” There’s some sort of sorrow in my tone that I wasn’t expecting. “I’m with my new friends, and I’m enjoying it.”

He lets out a sigh. After all, he can’t blame me. At my age, I know Alex had an amazing mother, siblings, and lots of friends to keep him company. But for me, the house is empty, like most evenings. We both know Dad’s at a dinner and will come home late as usual.

“I’m sorry. I forgot Roy is not at home.” He seems to be texting someone quickly, then looks back at me. “What if we go somewhere and have dinner? Do you remember that small Italian-American bistro in Soho with the amazing chocolate cake and strawberry milkshakes?”

“Galli? I haven’t been there in ages. And it was more accurately a warm fondant brownie with coffee ice cream.” I lick my lips, picturing that dessert. “For sure, the best in town.”

“Would you like to go there?”

“What a question.”





Having dinner like in the good old days with my godfather is beyond anything I could have imagined. I love Italian food, more precisely Galli, which is where I used to go with him ten years ago. At the time, he’d order spaghetti alla bolognese, followed by the warm brownie. He also used to order a special strawberry milkshake for me. Each time he would ask, they would reply, “We don’t usually have strawberry milkshakes, but for such an adorable child, we can make an exception.” My face would beam with joy every time the waiter would say that. This time is no exception—Alex orders exactly that.