Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter #2) - Melanie Martins Page 0,124

tone is particularly bright and jovial. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy before.

“A bit.”

As I observe her, I must admit she’s also made quite the effort this evening. Her short blonde hair is brushed back, showing off her beautiful black rose earrings, smoky eyes, and elegant black dress. But behind all the glam and smiles, all I can see is a control freak who restricts me and my freedom, a woman who truly believes that she’s saving me from the evil grip of the man I love, without even realizing that the true evil is her.

“Ladies, good evening,” greets the waiter as he hands us our menus. “Welcome to Jean-Georges. Would you prefer still or sparkling water to start?”

“Good evening. Still, please,” Mom answers.

Then he takes the white napkin folded at her side, and lays it on her lap, before doing the same for me.

After he leaves, Mom leans closer to me and whispers, “What fine service, isn’t it?”

A quick chuckle escapes me. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

She takes her glasses from her purse and puts them on before embarking on a long reading journey of the menu like it’s some sort of fine literature. Despite hating her for everything she has done to me, her focusing on a simple menu makes my lips twitch in a smile, and as my gaze remains on her, I memorize every single feature of her face. Actually, she looks a bit like Megyn Kelly with her evening makeup on. And for some odd reason, I say, “You’re really beautiful tonight.”

Mom puts her menu down, her eyes never leaving mine, and gives me a smile that I will never forget. “You are very beautiful too.”

She might not be in New York for the right reasons, and I might hate her for all the things she’s been doing, but there is a part of me—a part that I don’t know how strong it is—that yearns for a better relationship with her. After all, any daughter would love to have a good relationship with her own mother. And I don’t think I am any different.

“Dad was such a lucky man.” I reciprocate her smile, and it’s full of empathy just like hers. “I’m sorry that he messed up.”

“Life is full of ups and downs, darling,” she brushes off. Mom is about to say something more, but the waiter steps in and asks, “May I serve you a glass of champagne?”

“Of course,” Mom replies immediately. “Who are we kidding?” I can’t help but laugh as the waiter fills our glasses. Then she raises her flute of bubbly and says, “To us, Petra.”

It’s not her voice that I hear, though, but Alex’s. As if he’s sitting in front of me and toasting with me. I close my eyes, trying to keep his voice from haunting me. And the more I try, the more I see him, hear him, feel him touching me… My mind starts recalling memories I shouldn’t want it to, and I see him everywhere… in Rome, in his office, in Aspen, in Bedford Hills…

“Are you alright?”

Jeez, I look around, making sure he is not here. Indeed, I don’t see anyone who resembles him.

Then, looking at Mom, I also raise my glass. “To us.” And we clink our glasses.

As we remain quiet, looking over our respective menus, I decide to say, “Um, you know, Emma invited me to spend the weekend with her.”

“Oh, she did?”

“Yeah…” My fingers are on my flute, playing with the base as I think of my next words. “She’s having a dinner this Friday.”

“But I thought Matthew invited you to the Hamptons this weekend?”

I’m about to ask her if she listened to our FaceTime call, but then I remember my phone is being tracked and she must have read his text instead. “Matthew has been an ass,” I tell her. “So I prefer to go over to Emma’s.”

“I see…” Mom nods pensively, looking at nothing. “I’ll have a talk with your dad and let you know.”

Damn it! And I know in that moment that if they let me go, it’s going to be with the bodyguards securing Emma’s house like a high-risk prison.

I take a sip of my champagne, trying to tame my rising anxiety at the thought of it. Jeez, what a dumbass I was to have attacked Mom so fiercely. I should’ve just played along, swallowed my pride, and been a kiss-ass so she’d let me go. But the truth is, being nice to someone I despite so