Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter #2) - Melanie Martins Page 0,79

about his cologne. “What an asshole he is. I’m so sorry.” I know at this point that my face and mind are a big mess. I’m tired from crying, tired from the pain, tired from everything. “When did he break up with you?” he asks, releasing me.

My heart feels stuck in my throat, but I bring myself to say, “Um, at two o’clock this morning.”

“Damn…”

I sniffle, and trying to prevent more tears from falling, I make the conscious effort to calm down. “Yeah, it sucks.”

“If I may ask, why did he break up with you?”

“He moved to Singapore,” I reply, keeping it short. There’s no need to tell him the whole truth anyway. “And it seems he doesn’t want me there.”

To my surprise, he brings my chin up, and says, “Well, he’s a fucking idiot.” Matthew holds on to me, rubbing my arms and giving me strength.

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” And I release a deep breath.

“Do you want to do something later tonight? We could go for dinner or—”

“I’m okay…” I give him a smile as we stare at each other for a few heartbeats, and then say, “For now, I need some time alone.” The truth is, I can’t find the will to do anything. If I could just go to bed and sleep, I would.

“Alright…” Matthew can’t hide his disappointment, but he also smiles in return, and, after putting his backpack on his shoulder, he adds, “If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Chapter 21

Petra Van Gatt

Just twenty minutes after Matthew leaves, the doorbell rings again. This time, though, I rush to open the door, and when I find Janine in the hallway, I say, “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.”

As I open the door, I see the one and only Emma Hasenfratz, slaying it with perfectly styled bangs, red lips, and an all-black outfit—extra-large D&G T-shirt, denim shorts, ankle boots, and big black sunglasses on her face.

“Babe, Emma Hasenfratz is here to save the day, don’t worry,” she says, stepping in. “I’ve got you.”

Shaking my head in amusement, I inwardly chuckle at her comment. And after giving her two cheek kisses, I notice Emma’s holding a file in one hand and a bottle of Dom Pérignon in the other. “Um, are we celebrating something?”

“I’m saving you from misery, so yeah, we are.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Jeez! Don’t exaggerate. I still have my own fund and some savings.”

“Babe, I’m not talking about misery in a financial sense, duh.” But my eyes squint in confusion. “I’m talking misery as in emotional misery.”

Oh, emotional misery. Yeah, that pretty much sums up how I’m feeling right now. But does she think a bottle of Dom Pérignon is gonna fix it?

Emma follows me into the kitchen and, after greeting Janine, puts the champagne in the fridge. Then we stay quiet as we wait for Janine to leave us alone. Once we hear the door close behind us, Emma hands me the file and says, “Your dad needs to sign this, and you’ll be fine.” I start reading the contract, and I can’t help but be impressed at how protective it would be of my inheritance. “My lawyer and I already signed it as your witnesses. Your dad just has to do the same, and he won’t be able to disinherit you. Even if he wants to.”

The more I read the contract, the more I wonder if Dad will ever agree to sign it. If he did, that would be perfect. “So, as long as I talk to him once in a while, he can’t disinherit me, right?”

“Yeah. Basically, as long as you talk to him once a month, it’s fine. You cannot become an estranged daughter though, which means never seeing him again.” The contract is everything any heir would ever want—it protects my inheritance without letting my parents control me. From what I read, as long as I text Dad once in a while and meet with him once a year, he cannot disinherit me from the shares of Gatt-Dieren, the penthouse on Park Avenue, or any accounts that belong to him or any trust that he’s the beneficiary of. There’s even a clause that says he cannot sell his shares or his penthouse without my written notarized consent. “This is a really good contract.”

Then I realize Emma must have a similar agreement with her parents. “You have the same thing with your parents, huh?”

Ms. Hasenfratz gives nothing away but a smirk. After a few