Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(66)

“Really?” I shake my head in astonishment, looking at his unsmiling and embarrassed face. “And when I thought he couldn’t care any less about my existence…”

“Oh, not at all. In fact, your godfather was just telling me in the car that—”

“You can have a drink, Petra,” interposes Alex. “I’m sure Roy’s fine with it.”

Dad is left with no choice. “Exactly, one is alright.”

I smile victoriously. I order one and head over to sit beside Luiz. I wonder what Alex said about me to Rafaela in the car. But I know he’ll never tell me. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve got to get used to this new reality. A reality in which Alex is touching and holding hands with another woman besides me.

“So, Petra, what are you studying?”

Why on earth does she want to chat with me?

“Economics at Columbia University,” I reply back.

“Oh, wow. Ivy League. So, what’s the plan? Follow your dad’s path?”

“I wouldn’t mind. So far, I have my own art fund. And later I’d like to focus on art dealership, growing the fund, leasing the artworks, opening a gallery…”

“You already have your own fund? Impressive. And how old are you, if I may ask? Twenty?”

“Seventeen,” corrects Dad, his face beaming with pride. “If Petra continues like this, very soon we’ll see her on Forbes Thirty Under Thirty. Hopefully, as the youngest listed. We are working hard to make it possible. Right, Petra?”

I nod.

“Unbelievable,” exclaims Rafaela. “I never thought you were that young.”

I hate to be the center of attention. I give her a polite smile, take a sip of my caipirinha—which is way stronger than I thought—and focus on Luiz.





Alexander Van Dieren





She’s incredibly beautiful today. A celestial princess. I love to see her wearing dresses with ribbons wrapped around her waist. While she’s sitting on the other side of the table, it’s hard not to notice her, with such a cute and enticing smile and with her laugh always so charming, innocent, and childlike. But she’s neither smiling at me, nor laughing with me. No. She has found a young Brazilian man who has clearly captivated her. She has spent the entire lunch ignoring everyone but him. Luiz is smitten, obviously—who wouldn’t be with such a cultivated and delightful woman? I notice how Luiz delicately tucked her hair behind her ear. I used to do that. Before that night. Before that kiss. I take a sip of my caipirinha and instinctively smile at the sound of her laughter, but I have no idea what Luiz just said. It doesn’t matter. She’s happy. Her eyes sparkle with joy. I look absently down at my plate for a while and let out a sigh. This is how it must be. And no matter how painful it is to see her glowing with someone else, I know that’s the right choice for her. I see Luiz whispering in her ear, and she nods.

“Dad,” calls Luiz. “Petra, Claudia, Miguel, and I are going down to the beach, alright?”

“Sure. You guys can change in the spa. The bags with your beachwear are in the car. Ms. Van Gatt, be sure to leave your jewelry, iPhone, wallet, and other valuables in your room, and dress as simply as possible.”

Petra nods.

“Very well. See you guys later.”

I don’t like it. I lean over and whisper discreetly in Roy’s ear, “Isn’t it dangerous to let them go alone?”

“Relax, this area is pretty safe. Right, Rafaela?”

“Yes. Don’t worry. It’s fine.”





She’s been gone about four hours now. The golden hour is quickly approaching in Copacabana. While the majority of guests have already left, Paulo, Anabela, and their closest friends are now in beachwear spending the rest of the afternoon by the pool and lounge. I glance once more at my watch. I hear loud male laugher splashing in the water. It’s Luiz and Miguel. They’ve returned from the beach. Claudia is with them, but not Petra.

“Where is Petra?” I ask Claudia.

“She stayed on the beach to watch the sunset.”

Pfff, these guys are so foolish. How can they think it’s okay to leave her alone when she doesn’t speak any Portuguese? I leave the hotel and cross the street, and even though the beach is still crowded, I manage to find her at a distance. She’s sitting on her beach towel near the waves, staring at the horizon, her black hair still wet from the sea.

“Hey,” I greet, before sitting next to her on the tiny towel. She checks me out top to bottom. She must’ve noticed that I changed clothes, now wearing a half-open linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to my elbows, and dark-blue Bermuda shorts. She just smiles. I glance at the horizon where she’s staring, before looking back at her. “You know, the hotel provides comfortable lounge chairs…”

“I’m fine,” she snaps.

But her melancholic face says otherwise. “What’s going on, Petra?”

“I’m just a bit down today,” she admits before taking a deep breath. “Nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine for the wedding tomorrow. I won’t disappoint anyone.”

Looking at her without touching her is even harder than I thought. I try to focus on her words, but all I can see are her lips moving, begging to be kissed. I try to look into her eyes instead, but she’s staring at the horizon, not at me. I can smell her perfume and her jasmine hair. My heart is thundering so loud, I hope she doesn’t pay any attention to it.