Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter Book 2)

by Melanie Martins

  I feel so damn guilty and even dirty to have helped him. And yet I knew he was a criminal since the first day I laid eyes on him. Fuck, I should’ve been wiser. That asshole literally used me. He had no intentions of leaving for good. Oh no, it was just for one single month to put a damn plan in place to kidnap Petra. And I, like a dumbass, cooperated with him… I shake my head at my own stupidity. Petra is really sick. And she needs our help, my help, now more than ever. This man is manipulating her, luring her, into a relationship that seems pretty twisted.

  “We will find her, Ms. Hagen,” my dad tells her. “I’ll put the best team in place, and they will find her and bring her back.”

  “Maybe we should call Emma…” Roy suggests to Tess.

  But Tess just chuckles in return. “Emma? She will deny everything. Why even bother? She is a loyalist.”

  A loyalist? What does she mean by that? A loyal friend? Intrigued, I’ve got to ask, “Sorry, Ms. Hagen, but, um, what do you mean by ‘loyalist’?”

  “You may just call me Tess,” she says, offering me a pleasant smile. “A loyalist is someone who stands for someone or something until the end, no matter what.”

  “I doubt that Emma wouldn’t talk if she knew Petra was in danger.”

  “She organized their engagement party,” Roy tells me. Wow. Petra had had an engagement party? Knowing she hadn’t invited me to such an important event in her life makes my heart squeeze even more. Fuck, I thought I was her friend. I try hiding my pain with an unbothered attitude, but it’s easier said than done. “Emma supports them. Tess is right, she’ll never say a word.”

  “Maybe there’s another way…” I look at my dad and ask, “What if you contact your colleagues at the bureau?”

  “We don’t need to get the FBI involved,” Roy interposes, his tone pressing. “I will call Alex…” He takes out his phone, but instead of calling him, he says, “He just sent me a voice message.”

  “Play it,” Tess snaps at him.

  Roy remains undecided for an instant, but since Tess keeps insisting, he pushes play. He raises the volume, and we hear Alex’s voice coming from the phone. “Hey, Roy…” His tone is not threatening or harsh, like I expected it to be, but rather tired and maybe even a bit melancholic. “It’s me… your former best friend, you know, the one you built a business with, and the son of the man who gave you the opportunity of a lifetime.” There is a pause while Alex takes a long breath in and out. “I suppose by now you are looking for Petra. Most likely with Eric Bradford, your new bestie.” What the heck? How does he know that? “Rest assured, she’s with me, and she’s fine. But if you and Tess don’t leave us alone once and for all, believe me, neither of you will ever see her again.” Tess puts her palm over her mouth to contain a gasp, but I hear it even so. “Oh, and save yourself the hassle of inquiring about where we are, because no one knows. And I’ll never tell you. Goodbye, Roy.” And that’s it. That’s the message.

  I put my hand on Tess’s back, giving her some comfort, but I can only imagine what she is going through. She was damn right. He literally kidnapped her. Jeez, I boil with rage at not having seen it coming. I should’ve locked that door. But fuck, I never thought Petra would run away either. And as I look at my dad and he at me, we both know it’s not the police or the bureau we need to get involved. It’s his entire office. Looking at Petra’s mom, I say, “Tess, you can trust us. My dad will find him, have him arrested, and throw him in jail.”

  Chapter 35

  Atlantic Ocean, October 24, 2020

  Petra Van Gatt

  Sunlight beams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting light across the whole bedroom. Waking up, I prop myself up on my elbows and fill my eyes with the sight of the impressive blue sea blending with the sky. I didn’t dream this; I’m really sailing away with my fiancé. Then I recall how I left Matthew’s house yesterday in the middle of the night, and I wonder for an instant how he is doing. Maybe I should send him a text wishing him a happy birthday. Before doing anything, though, it’s better to check with Alex, as I definitely don’t want to do something that could compromise us. Since he’s already left the bedroom—a terrible habit of his that I can’t help but despise, I decide to get out of bed, and head to the bathroom. After showering, I go back into the room and stand in front of the mirror. There, I drop the towel and observe my naked body attentively, before applying some lotion on my skin. My neck bears four red hickeys from last night, and unless I put a scarf around it, I have no makeup that can cover this. Then I turn my lower back and bottom toward the mirror, searching for where the pain I’m feeling is coming from. I narrow my eyes at the dark mark at the end of my spine, right on my tailbone. Damn, it’s a bruise! That’s why it was hurting so much when I tried to move in bed. From the reflection in the mirror, I can see a black box resting on the nightstand behind me. I remember Alex’s instructions about what I’m supposed to do before going to breakfast. Jeez, I can’t believe I’m gonna have to stick a plug in my butt. I reach the nightstand, and as I look at the black box, there is a white envelope on top with four hand-written words: Training for Little Petra.

  My cheeks flush at that simple phrase. Training? After blowing out a breath, I open the envelope and read the message inside.

  Day 1: Size S for 3 hours. Rest for lunch if needed. Then 3 hours again.

  Day 2: Size S all day.

  He wants me to wear a plug all day? Holy shit!

  Days 3-5: Size M for 3 hours. Rest for lunch if needed. Then 3 hours again.

  Day 6: Size L for 3 hours. Rest for lunch if needed. Then 3 hours again.

  My mind is blank, unable to process what I just read. I look again at the black ink on the white paper, and I realize these are clear instructions for the entire trip! I open the box and see three matte-black silicone plugs of different sizes presented inside with a small bottle of lube. I wonder which one I wore yesterday, but I take the smallest one, observing it attentively. Must be this one.

  How am I gonna handle this for three hours straight? Let alone an entire day? And how can I even focus on my online courses with a plug in my butt? Jeez, leave it to him to make me wear one.

  I rub the plug with as much lube as possible, and without further ado, I bend slightly down and force myself to relax in order to insert it inside me. Thanks to last night’s intense session, the plug goes all the way in without hassle, but I still have to close my lips tight to restrain a gasp. As I stand up, I feel just a little something inside, filling me between my butt cheeks. It’s weird, super weird. But not painful. Then I open my backpack and take out a pair of panties. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to wear here, but I opt for jeans and a striped blouse. Once ready, I walk into the living room, trying to find where breakfast will be served. One of the crew members greets me and leads me to the terrace, where I see a table with two place settings ready. I wonder for a minute why there is no wind, until I realize the terrace is surrounded by a sliding glass wall, which is pretty discreet.

  “Matcha latte, right?” the steward asks, pouring some water into my glass.

  “Yes, please.”

  I sit, feeling the soreness rising as the external part of the plug presses against the solid material of the chair. And if I was confident enough until now, this chair made sure to remind me of what I have inside me and how sore I am from last night. Damn it. The thought makes me want to break my water glass. But instead, I focus on the view and look out at the frothy sea that the boat leaves behind as it goes. I barely feel the yacht moving, and recalling what the steward told us yesterday, today we should have good weather and calm waters.

  All of a sudden, I hear footsteps coming up behind me, and my lips curve up, recognizing the unmistakable fragrance that fills the air. I feel his hands reaching for the length of my hair and pulling the locks to the side so his lips can kiss my bare neck. His touch is enough to give me goosebumps, and I squirm a bit in my chair.

  “Are you wearing your plug?” he asks in a whisper.

&
nbsp; Oh my… A rush of heat booms in my cheeks at his bold question. “Yes, I am.” I want to sound annoyed, but I come across as excited. Pathetic. “And I’ve got a bruise above my ass,” I tell him, this time annoyance thick in my tone.

  Alex just chuckles in return before kissing my neck once more. “Good.” Then there’s silence between us until he asks, “Can you lift your hair for me?”

  My hair? I’m not sure why, but I do it anyway. A few moments later, I see his hands coming in front of me holding a golden chain. Oh! My pendant! He places the necklace around my neck and clasps it at the back. I reach up and immediately take the pendant between my fingers, a smile creasing my lips as I touch his family crest. It feels so good to have it back. It’s like a part of me has finally been restored.

  “Thanks for returning it to me,” I say in a low voice, a bit overwhelmed with emotions.

  “It’s yours. There’s no need to thank me.” He then leans down, his arms embracing me from behind, and plants a kiss with a smack on my head. I giggle a bit at the familiar sound—he used to do that when I was younger. Then he goes and sits in front of me. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

  “No, um, I just arrived.”

  The steward comes in and lays before me a plate of avocado toast with cherry tomatoes, grilled mushrooms, and my matcha latte.

  “Do you want pancakes too, Miss?” he asks.

  “Um, no, this is enough, thanks.”

  Then he takes Alex’s order, and I take a sip of my matcha, waiting for him to leave the terrace. After he does so, I take a deep breath into my lungs, and knowing that we are all alone, I ask, “Can we talk about that box?”

  “Which box?” I arch a brow at his little game. “Be specific.” Oh, now I have to be specific. Great.

  Lowering my voice, I lean forward and say, “Training for Little Petra? Really?”

  His lips twist into a smile full of pride. “What’s wrong with Little Petra?”

  The truth is, nothing is wrong with that part. He’s always called me Little Petra ever since I can recall. “It’s the training that’s the issue. Or, more specifically, the daily plugs.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  Oh dear, he’s not making this any easier. I glance around, making sure no crew member is coming. “It’s bearable,” I reply promptly. “But why? Why do I need to wear this every day during our trip? What am I training for?”

  Alex leaps out of his seat, and I wonder in that moment if I said something wrong. He goes around the table and takes the chair beside me, bringing it closer to mine. After sitting, he holds my gaze steadily, but he’s not smiling. His lips are pressed into a straight line, his expression revealing nothing. “You want to know all the details, Miss Curiosity?” His tone is not even playful; rather, his words sound like a test.

  I nod, uncertain about the outcome of such a decision.

  He remains silent, considering me for an instant, then he leans closer to me, just inches from my face. “I’m training you to become more”—he squints his eyes, a faint smile settling on his lips—“available.”

  My mouth gapes instantly, and I blink twice at his words. “Available?”

  Alex bursts out in a laugh, amused by my constant inquisition. “Those plugs will loosen your little asshole for me, so I can go in more easily.” And I realize how sexual this conversation has just become. My lips part to take some precious air into my lungs as my heartbeat quickens with every word coming from his mouth. “Yesterday I had to go very slowly to get in,” he explains. “This training will make things easier for us.”

  “Oh…” I don’t think we have ever had a discussion so intimate about my butt. But it doesn’t feel as odd as I thought. Actually, I enjoy the attention he’s giving to my body. It makes me feel desired, and I hope he’ll always be like that. But I still have some questions. “And, um, I’m not gonna have any technical issues taking it out?”

  He lets out a quick chuckle, but it’s a legitimate concern after all. “It’s gonna come out as naturally as any other. Don’t worry.” And he rises up just enough to kiss my forehead. “After a day or two, you won’t feel the difference with it in.”

  He goes back to sit in front of me, right before the steward comes in and places his cup of black coffee on the table, along with an omelet, fruit, and an avocado. “For Monday, I imagine you will have online classes?”

  Oh, I’m impressed how Alex can switch from butt talk to my studies so easily. “Yeah, and um, Tuesday I usually have a group session, as we are working on a study for Public Economics.”

  “You won’t be able to have contact with anyone for now.”

  WHAT! “Why not?” I ask immediately. “Impossible. I’m in charge of the study. My name is on it.”

  “They can trace our location via satellite—”

  “They are college students,” I snap back. “Not the FBI.”

  “I know, but your friend Matthew can inquire about you and pressure you to give info about where you are. It’s not safe.”

  “Speaking of Matthew…” Alex’s brows pinch together as he observes me. “He’s turning twenty today. And, um, I ran away from his house last night, where I was supposed to spend the weekend.” Since he doesn’t say a word, I add, “I need to at least wish him a happy birthday.”

  “Why do you even care about him?”

  “Because he is my friend,” I answer just as fast. “Is there a way I can send him a text safely?”

  “A text can leave a trace, and the phone company can collaborate with your parents to track us. I don’t think it’s prudent.”

  My heart aches a bit at his response, and letting out a sigh in annoyance, I say, “I’m sure there is a way I can send it anonymously. Maybe from an app or online?”

  Alex scratches his stubble, thinking something through. “I’ll check into it.”

  Oh, he better do more than just check into it, as I won’t let him leave the table without a solution. “Matthew deserves an apology for my running away on his birthday,” I tell him, looking him in the eye, my tone serious.

  His gaze remains steadily on mine, considering me. “Alright, I can ask my attorney to send him a message on your behalf. I think that’s the most prudent.”

  “Your attorney?” I repeat, totally baffled by his suggestion.

  “Yeah, he’s the only one aware of the situation, since I’m pretty sure we will need him soon.”

  I hate the fact that I have to go through a middleman, but it’s better than nothing. Plus, Matthew won’t know the difference. “You promise he will deliver the message?”

  “Of course. What do you want to tell him? ‘Happy birthday and sorry for running away’?” Alex takes it as a joke, but I don’t.

  “It’s not funny. He’s really a good guy.”

  He shake his head in amusement, until he finally blurts out, “Fine. I will take care of it.”

  Atlantic Ocean, October 26, 2020

  Petra Van Gatt

  If the first day onboard was sunny and the water calm, yesterday and today have been the complete opposite. The stewards warned the next few days we’d have “not so good weather,” which must be a euphemism for terrible, seasick kind of weather. The unsettling imbalance of the yacht makes it nearly impossible to even stand up straight or walk. Fortunately, the stewards have been delivering our breakfast to our bedroom in a trolley cart covered with a white tablecloth. While Alex is already taking his morning coffee and reading the newspaper in the armchair, I’m still trying to gain the courage to leave the warm sheets and walk a few steps toward the cart, where my matcha latte is waiting for me. But each time there is a strong wave, I’m reminded how painful this is, and my head starts spinning horribly.

  “Are you seasick?” he asks, seeing my resistance to get up. “You look nauseous.”

  “Yeah, this motion is horrible.” And the only way to survive this up-and-down and side-to-side acceleration seems to be remaining in bed.

  “Oh, poor you.” He might be teasing me, bu
t nevertheless Alex stands up and goes to take something from the cart along with a glass of water. Then he sits beside me and hands me a tray with pills and the glass. “Take one every six hours.” As I do so, he brings me my matcha latte and the plate with my avocado toast. “And now you’re gonna eat.”

  I take a bite of the toast, and I’m glad he’s holding the matcha latte steady as the boat goes up and down, sailing through bigger waves. “Thanks.” Then I check the time on my iPhone and realize I’m already running late for my first online class of the day. Jeez! Fortunately, my laptop is in my backpack, not too far away. I take a sip of my matcha latte, and after blowing out a breath, I get out of bed to grab my laptop. Once I’ve got it, I rush back and slide under the covers again. Then I put the laptop on my lap, turn it on, and connect it to a VPN before logging in to the class. The unsettling motion is not making it any easier, but I drink a bit more of my matcha, hoping somehow that will help.

  “Petra, you barely ate…” Alex chides.

  I notice he’s still holding the plate with my avocado toast, barely eaten. “I know, but I have class starting soon. It’s Monday, you know.”

  “At least finish your breakfast,” he insists.

  “After.”

  “You can’t watch it later?”

  “I wish, but this is an interactive class. Like, they see who’s connected and who’s not.”