Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(78)

“Roy,” his tone sounds heavier, more strident. “I didn’t bring you here to talk only about my feelings toward your daughter…” My heart keeps thundering, barely containing an imminent attack. “But also about my intention to marry her.” I fall back into the chair, but my jaw and heart are on the floor. I instantly reach for my chest at the feel of such a punch. I’m paralyzed. Mute. Has he lost his mind or what? “I know she’s focused on her exams and that we have Singapore coming up. Don’t worry, I won’t propose now…” Oh fantastic! I feel so much better! “But I wanted to let you know I intend to marry her.” He pauses for a beat. “Do I have your blessing?”

I gasp again. The more he talks, the more I’m in shock. Alexander wants to marry Petra? I feel like throwing up, fainting, dying, but I swallow hard instead. “Unbelievable.” I take a much-needed breath. “This is unbelievable, Alexander. We’ve never let any woman put our twenty years of dear friendship and successful business relationship at stake, until now with my own daughter!”

“Indeed,” he replies, his voice steady. “But Petra is not ‘any woman,’ and you know that.”

“It feels surreal!” I stand up again, roaming around. “You are gone for ten years! Ten good years, for God’s sake!” I protest before exhaling all my mixed emotions. “And what about that lifestyle of yours, huh? Does she already know about it?”

“What? My relationship with Petra is totally different, Roy.”

“Answer my question,” I snarl.

“No, she doesn’t know.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I can live without it. But not without her.”

I raise an eyebrow suspiciously. “You can really live without you being a… well, you?”

“For her, yes.”

I shake my head more in astonishment than anything else. I’d never have done it for any woman in the world, not even Tess. After a brief moment of silence, still assessing his request, I proceed. “You know if you break her heart, I’ll have to hurt you, Alexander. And our friendship, our businesses, everything we’ve built together will end, right?”

“I know. I wasn’t expecting otherwise.” He keeps looking me straight in the eyes. “I won’t break her heart, Roy. I promise.”

“Alexander, I’ll repeat this one more time!” I warn. “You know what’s at stake. You can still back out. No need to make promises. Are you sure about this?”

“Roy, have I ever failed you?”

“Not once.”

“I’m sure about this.”

I nod thoughtfully and try to get used to this new reality. So Petra will become… a noblewoman? Lady Petra? And my grandchildren will inherit this place, the Van Dieren family’s office, title, assets, and mansions? Damn, I understand now why he gave me so many glasses of whiskey. “Well, I imagine you’ll have to talk to Margaret, then.”

He smiles victoriously, or at least halfway. “I know, and I might need your help.”





Chapter 19





Manhattan, November 26, 2019

Petra Van Gatt





“Good morning, Ms. Van Gatt.”

“Mmm, good morning, Janine…” I mumble, stretching my arms.

“Your father would like to talk to you before he goes to work. He’s in the living room.”

Oh God! I hate when Janine wakes me up like that. I recall that yesterday was the twenty-fifth. The day Alex was going to talk to Dad. I wonder which mood I’ll find him in. Angry? Sad? Disappointed? Betrayed? Will he disown me?

I let out a sigh, standing up. I put on my slippers and a long robe, and nervously walk to the living room, my heartbeat already pounding anxiously fast.

I find Dad comfortably sitting on one of the sofas, wearing a black turtleneck and a gray wool suit with a silk pocket square, legs crossed, reading his WSJ like every morning. I swallow hard but try to keep on a smile and positive morning glow.

“Good morning, Dad,” I greet him joyfully.

He looks in my direction then back to his paper.

“Good morning, Petra. Have a seat.” He sounds cold and serious, but I obey and sit beside him. I stare curiously at Dad while he finishes reading the page, waiting patiently for his next words. “How has Columbia been?” Definitely not the question I was expecting. I find it awkward he won’t even look at me; his eyes remain glued to the paper. Is he hiding his pain? His rage? His disappointment? I can’t tell, but I reply like I know nothing. “Quite nice. Challenging but nice. I had to do a dissertation about the negative impact on governmental politics on the economy, and Mrs. Chilnisky actually liked it.”

“Hmm, that would explain why you’ve been living in your college library,” he snaps, his eyes pinned on the WSJ. I don’t reply. I just look at him, still reading.

I hear nothing but silence.

I glance around the room, waiting impatiently for Dad to say something more.

“Petra.” Ah! Finally. My eyes shift back to him. “Alex talked to me.” Oh God. I swallow hard again. I wonder why Dad won’t even look at me. Why is the WSJ more important? Is there news in there about him and his new acquisition?

“I know. He told me he was going to.”