Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter #2) - Melanie Martins Page 0,164

judge could strip my freedom away. A judge my dad or Eric could know perfectly well.

Then, I hear Alex ordering fresh water with lemon, and I find myself in his embrace, with his lips pressing against my forehead. “Hey…” he whispers. “It’s gonna be alright.” I force myself to remain calm, breathing in and out and fighting the growing fear of what the future holds for us. “Can we have a moment, please?”

I hear everyone standing up and footsteps leaving the terrace. Alex takes me by the arm and makes me sit in one of the chairs.

“Here, have some water.” Opening my eyes, I hold the glass and bring the fresh water to my mouth.

After taking the first sip, I say, “You know that story of Latifa, the Emirati princess who tried to escape her controlling father, but was caught and brought back to Dubai?”

“Um, I heard about it, yeah.”

“Her father said the same thing to the media, that she had been kidnapped,” I tell him before finishing my lemon water in one gulp. “My dad is becoming very good friends with Eric Bradford,” I tell him. “And Emma told me Eric was up to something.” I pause for a beat and say, “I have to talk to Matthew.”

But Alex cocks his head to the side. “Petra, I doubt your friend will be of any help.”

And while Alex might be right, a part of me sincerely hopes not. Matthew is a close friend after all, and he can talk to his dad and persuade him to drop the charges against my fiancé. He knows perfectly well that it’s all bullshit. “I have to try and talk to him.”

“You know the rules…”

“Don’t you get it?” I snap back. “If we don’t fight back, my freedom is at stake. Use a fake number, a VPN, or whatever, but I have to talk to him.”

Alex takes my phone and does something on it. “I’m gonna connect to a VPN and set your number to private, but we’re taking a huge risk.”

Then he gives me back the phone, and as I look at the screen, I force myself to remember Matthew’s number and type in the digits, hoping they are in the correct order. I put the phone against my ear and wait…

I draw in a breath upon hearing a male voice answering, “Hi?”

“Matthew? It’s me, Petra,” I reply with excitement.

“Petra? Jeez, how are you? Are you okay?” His tone is laced with worry.

“I’m fine, yes. Um, I just saw the article in The New York Times—”

“Where are you?” he asks, cutting me off.

“I can’t tell you that. Look—”

“Fuck, is he holding you hostage?”

My jaw drops at his question. “No. I’m fine,” I repeat. “Please, tell your dad to drop the charges against my fiancé. I don’t want to be found.”

But Matthew releases a loud breath in annoyance. “Is he asking you to say that? Petra, you are being manipulated,” he replies, sounding condescending. “He’s cutting you off from everyone and everything. That’s how abusive relationships start.”

“‘Matthew,” I call, trying to calm him down. “We are here because my parents were tapping my phone, imposed bodyguards on me, and nearly implanted a tracking chip in my arm. They are the ones who are abusive.”

“Your parents have common sense!” I huff immediately at his answer. Since when is this common sense? “You are so sick. Like, you have been diagnosed with OLD, depression, and PTSD, but you are still in total denial. They did it to protect you.”

I can’t believe after everything my parents have done to me, Matthew is still protecting them. What about me and my happiness? Don’t they matter? Jeez, he’s beyond crazy. Since Matthew doesn’t seem to understand I’d rather be free and with the man I love, than unhappy and trapped under the guardianship of my parents, I know at this point I have to dissuade Eric to drop the charges myself. “Matthew, please, may I speak to your dad?”

“Um, what do you want to tell him?”

“I need to know what’s going on,” I lie. What I want is to persuade Eric to leave us alone. “I just need five minutes to talk to him, please.”

After a few seconds of silence, Matthew finally says, “Alright, one minute.” I heave a sigh of relief as I wait for Eric to take the call.

“Yes?”

“Hi, Eric, it’s Petra Van Gatt,” I greet as politely as possible.

“Ms. Van Gatt, thanks God you managed to contact us. Where are you? Did he harm you? Did