Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter #2) - Melanie Martins Page 0,38
I’m really moving, aren’t you?” And I wish I wouldn’t have asked this question in the first place. Sometimes there are things I prefer not to know. Mom doesn’t answer. But there is no fucking need. Her expression says it all. “Fuck…” I huff, head shaking, my heart taking a goddamn blow at the realization. “When I thought for once you had no agenda,” I tell her, my tone laced with disgust and disappointment. I can’t help but feel sick to my stomach at her move. “We were so happy to welcome you here.” Regardless of what I tell her, Mom takes another sip, remaining just as serene and unbothered. “So all that talk about the preparation of the wedding for Petra’s birthday was bullshit, wasn’t it?”
She presses her lips tightly together, considering me for a moment, and mumbles a mere, “I’m sorry.”
I chuckle at the blatant charade. Sorry? That’s the only thing she has to say? “Get the fuck out of here.”
Mom creases her brows, finally leaving her indifference behind. “Alex—”
“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
Since Mom is not moving, I’m the one to leave.
As I reach the door, she says, “There is another option, you know.”
Turning back to look at her, I ask, “What are you talking about?”
“If you move to Singapore and break your engagement, you’ll be doing the right thing, and everyone will be happy. Well, except the two of you,” Mom explains. “On the other hand, if you stay and move forward with the wedding…” She lets her words trail off, while studying me attentively. “There might be some painful consequences,” she says, finishing her whiskey. “You might lose your friends, your reputation, your hedge fund—”
“I know that.”
“And that’s all fine,” she keeps going. “If that’s what you want… But if Tess presses charges against us for what happened twenty years ago, repercussions are to be expected.” I frown at the word repercussions. “At the end of the day, the real question is…” She leans back and waits a morbid second before asking, “How far would you go for love?”
And I know at that moment that if I choose to marry Petra, this marriage will come with a hefty price tag. I could always sell my part of the company and resign. Roy might never talk to me again, but the repercussions against her own mother? Could I really live with that? Damn it… I promised myself no more deaths. What if Petra finds out and never forgives me? And worse, what if, after her mother’s death, someone tells her the whole truth about what happened twenty years ago? Would she forgive me?
“So if I marry her, the price to pay is what I think it is?”
“If you do really intend to marry her…” Mom leans forward, looking me straight in the eye. “I’d suggest you ask your future mother-in-law to drop whatever it is she has against us before it’s too late.”
Chapter 9
Bedford Hills, September 11, 2020
Petra Van Gatt
Everyone is gathered in front of the female singer and her musicians, who are now playing “The Look of Love” by Diana Krall. As the singer starts crooning, I remember how much I love this song. It’s so damn romantic! Looking around at the strings of fairy lights and how everyone seems to be happily enjoying the evening, I can’t help but feel so much gratitude for the outstanding job Emma did. Julia and Sebastian are already slow dancing, along with Maud and her husband. On my right side, I find Elliot and Dad, glasses in hand, engrossed in conversation, and on the other, Yara and Emma. But I don’t see either Margaret or Alex. They have been gone for over half an hour though. Why are they taking so long?
Instead of sitting here alone, I decide to turn to Emma and Yara. “Hi, Emma,” I say, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you enjoying the evening?”
“Very much, and you?” she replies for the sake of politeness, but I can see by their faces that I’m disturbing them.
“Um, sorry to ask, but have you seen Alex?”
As I notice them looking over my shoulder, I turn around and see my fiancé smiling at me. “Were you missing me already?”
His question brings a grin to my lips, and I instantly put my arms around him, saying, “Finally!” Then I drag him to the dance floor. “This song has to be the one for our wedding dance.”
“Do we have to hire Diana Krall too?” he asks, most likely teasing.