The car stops.
I know we’ve just arrived at my condo. “I’m sorry, Rafaela. Don’t take this the wrong way, but…” How can I say I can’t bang her in the most elegant and gentle way possible? “I think we should take things slowly.” Perfect.
She gasps in surprise, caressing my face. “Oh, Alexander, a man like you asking me to take things slowly? Wow, that’s a compliment.” Phew, she likes it. “Why not? It’d make things even more exciting in Brazil…” She gives me a wet kiss on the lips. “Well, see you in Rio, Mr. Van Dieren.”
I give her another one, but quicker, before I make my way out of the car. “See you there, Rafaela,” I reply back, before closing the door on her.
Fuck! I don’t know what happened. Rafaela is a stunner; anyone would die to bang her. I’ve never felt that powerless before. Was it because of that stupid nightmare? Because of Petra? Whatever. It’s time for me to be back in control—me, and only me, no one else. I’ve got to talk to Petra and tell her we need to forget what happened in Rome. It was just a damned mistake, for God’s sake! I know that only from that point, when the subject is closed, will I be able to move on and completely enjoy Rafaela.
Chapter 14
Manhattan, October 10, 2019
Petra Van Gatt
Columbia has been challenging but rewarding. I didn’t expect to enjoy the classes so much. I’ve made a nice group of friends—still wondering how I’ve managed to be that sociable. We are known as the geek group of the freshman class, since we spend most of our free time at the library. But I couldn’t care less. I love everything about that library. It’s bigger than any I’ve ever been before. With its high ceilings, majestic windows, and crystal chandeliers, it offers an intimate and silent atmosphere. It feels like heaven on earth! Furthermore, there are books about nearly every subject, enough to satisfy my wildest curiosity.
Today’s no exception. I’m with my classmate Matthew, studying financial economics and getting my course notes in order.
“Matthew,” I murmur.
“Yeah…”
“Do you have the notes about why an economy has fluctuations and how they may be controlled? Mine are not that good.”
“Sure, here.” He gives me a dossier with all his notes about the topic.
“Thank you.” I read the first page. “Wow, they are so detailed. Where did you get them?”
“From the book Financial Economics: A Simple Introduction. Did you read it?”
I wince. “Oh, no, not yet. I’ve been busy reading others. Do you have it?”
“Yep. Here.”
“Thanks. You’re my savior,” I praise, accepting the book and flipping through the pages.
“You’re welcome.” Matthew ponders for a moment, looking intently at me, then takes a deep breath. “We should go out someday…”
“Go out? Where?” Does he prefer to study in a coffee shop? “I like the library. You prefer coffee shops?”
He lets out a chuckle, head shaking. “No, I meant going for dinner or something.”
“Ah, I see…” I swallow hard. “I’m sorry, Matthew. You’re very nice, but I’m in love with someone.”
“Oh, I didn’t know…” Matthew can’t hide his disappointment. “I never saw you with anyone else apart from our group. Is he studying at Columbia?”
“No, he is older.” Much older. “He’s already working.”
“Wow, now I understand why.” Matthew looks down thoughtfully. “Does he know he is the luckiest man on earth?”
I blush at his question. “I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t think he knows my feelings.”
“So, you are secretly in love with someone?”
I want to say no, but he’s right. And that's the embarrassing truth pinned deep down in my heart. I’m secretly in love with Alexander Van Dieren. I belong to him, but only in my dreams, in my fantasies, and in my mind. In reality, he knows nothing about my feelings toward him. We didn’t talk about it either. Since our kiss in Rome, Alex hasn’t said a word. Or texted. Not even once! I obviously haven’t texted him either. Maybe that kiss meant nothing to him. Just the result of too many glasses of wine. After all, he’s known to be a heartbreaker. Heck, even Mom warned me. And who am I? A totally inexperienced girl, the daughter of his best friend and business associate, and ultimately, his goddaughter. But is it already all forgotten? I’ve got to know. It’d be too risky to confront him at the wedding with Dad around. We’ve got to meet right here in New York one last time before leaving for Brazil.
Decision made, I take a deep breath, reach for my iPhone, open my WhatsApp, and—
We need to talk before Rio. Are you free this afternoon?
My heart explodes, finally seeing a text from him! Looks like he knew exactly what I had in mind. I smile radiantly. Yes, I’m really missing him. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I have to go.”
Alexander Van Dieren
There she is, already seated at a corner table, a straw between her lips drinking a strawberry smoothie. She’s annoyingly beautiful like always, wearing an open denim jacket, a pale-pink shirt underneath, her usual skinny jeans, and a pair of white All-Stars. She hasn’t spotted me yet. She’s looking away with a pensive stare and a cute little smile on her lips. Fuck. She’s terrifying. More than anyone I’ve ever met. After all, she’s the only one capable of waking me up at four o’clock in the morning, of making me change schedules overnight and take a plane to Rome, of making my cock powerless in front of stunners like Rafaela… I sigh. Yep. That little thing over there dressed like a teenager. I take a deep breath, walk in her direction, and sit down in front of her. I feel a sudden punch in my heart—she’s still wearing my pendant. She smiles joyfully at me, but I don’t return it. Her eyes are so bright and charming. Why is she so damn irresistible?
“I haven’t seen you in ages.” She sounds irritably sweet.
“Well, six weeks isn’t really ages,” I snap, my tone serious. “How’s Columbia? Are you enjoying it?”
“Not bad, actually. Much better than I thought. We have exams before Christmas, but Dad told me I could take a week off in December for a birthday trip if I stay focused until then.” I can’t help but smile seeing her face glowing, but I’ve got to talk to her. “Why are you so distant lately? You didn’t say a word…We’re going to Rio next week, maybe we could—”
“Petra,” I interrupt, my voice heavy. I pause for a moment to find the best words. “I want to apologize for what I did in Rome. I feel terrible. I can’t sleep thinking about what I have done. The entire atmosphere and the excess of wine made me lose my mind.” I take a deep breath. “Do you think you can forget what happened?”
She lifts her eyebrows, and her lips spread apart as she looks intently at me. “Would you like me to?”
I don’t want to give her my answer. I know it’ll only hurt her—me… us? “I think it’s better for both of us that you do.”
“What about you, then?”
“I’m meeting a friend in Rio.” I feel my heart punishing me. “Her name is Rafaela. She’s one of the bridesmaids… I just wanted you to be aware of that. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”
I see her eyes watering. She tilts her head back to stop her tears and heaves a loud sigh filled with sorrow. “I see…” She sniffles. “Well, Brazilian girls are a perfect distraction indeed…”
I hate to feel her disappointment and pain. I bring my chair closer to hers, but I keep my hands to myself. She notices it. My gaze is also different—colder, more distant and rigid.
“Petra, let’s be rational,” I begin. “I’m way too old for you, and your dad will never approve of any relationship between us. We should remain friends just like before. You deserve to meet an amazing young man at Columbia. Someone who’s your—”
“You didn’t even try to talk to him,” she protests.
I remain speechless.
Her eyes drop to my hands resting on the t
able. She lets out a breath before looking back at me. “So, you don’t have any feelings for me?”
Oh God. “You are like family, Petra. I love you as such, as a goddaughter and friend. That’s it. I apologize for that night,” I repeat.
“Wow...” she sniffles, closing her eyes for an instant. “Well, we are not together anyway, so don’t feel held back because of me.”
Despite the harshness of the moment, I smile. She gave me the answer I needed to hear. “Can we remain friends?” I ask, but she doesn’t say a word. She keeps looking at my hands. Before that kiss in Rome, I’d have already interlaced my fingers with hers while caressing and kissing her knuckles. But touching her will only make things worse. “I care so much about you, Petra. I want to remain in your life.” You have no idea how much.
She nods painfully before our eyes interlock again. “I do care about you too,” she mumbles.
Her eyes are red and wet. I feel the urge to hold her tight, to kiss her, to tell her everything is going to be alright, but no. I don’t do any of it. It’s better just to leave. The longer I stay, the worse it will be.
“Very well. Thank you for your understanding.” I glance at my watch. “I have to go. Have a great day,” and I smile cordially.
Then I stand up, fasten the top button of my blazer, and go to the waiter to settle the bill. Afterward, I simply leave.
Petra Van Gatt
I’m totally paralyzed, frozen by his words and attitude. He didn’t kiss me, not even a hug or a simple friendly touch on the arm. Nothing. My hopes and dreams have been totally smashed down by the cruel reality: we are not meant to be together. I should’ve known better. And yet, despite it all, there is nothing I’m more certain of than him.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and tilt my head back to prevent my tears from falling here in the coffee shop. But my heart is already crying, bleeding, devastated. Friendship is not enough, Alex. No. It’s not. That kiss meant something. And not only for me. I know it meant something to him too. I felt it. Still, here I am having to compromise my heart for the sake of having him in my life. Oh, Petra, what have you done…
Chapter 15
Rio de Janeiro, October 17, 2019
Petra Van Gatt
Dad is floating on a cloud. I mean, not because we are on a plane flying among clouds, but because it’s our first trip in a long time together. I’m not pleased to share the aircraft with Alexander, but I try to be on my best behavior for Dad. I know he’s happy for me to be here and to discover Rio with him. I decide to be particularly chatty with Dad, making him laugh with my stories about Columbia. I even take a selfie with him and send it to his WhatsApp with a nice filter and text. Obviously, I’m not doing any of that with Alexander. Actually, I even hope he’s feeling totally left out, and, at least judging by the look on his face, it seems like he is.
The pilot announces our approach to the Galeão International Airport. I excitedly look out the window at the beach, the coastline, the greenery, the cliffs, and the many white buildings and houses covering the landscape.
I smile, impatient to finally land in such an exotic city.
When we step outside, I realize Rio’s humid and hot. I didn’t expect it to be that much at nine p.m. There are two cars waiting for us. Probably one for Dad and me, the other for Alexander.
I’m the first to leave the plane. Dad and Alex are still chatting in their seats. The driver opens my car door and I slide inside, waiting for Dad. After fifteen minutes, Dad finally sits beside me. The engine starts and the car drives us downtown to Avenida Atlântica.
As we park in front of our hotel, the emblematic Copacabana Palace, I can’t help but take in my surroundings: the famous avenue looks very much like Ocean Drive in Miami, with the beach right across the road and palm trees lining the other side. Except Copacabana is surrounded by cliffs and exotic greenery, and the ground is made of Portuguese calçada—a traditional pavement made of small, flat black-and-white stones arranged like a mosaic to create a pattern or image.
I look a bit down the road, but I can’t see Alexander’s car. “Alex is not staying at the hotel?” I ask.
“No. He rented a villa in Joá to have more privacy,” explains Dad as we walk toward the main door. “You know, he met a wonderful lady in New York. Rafaela is a plastic surgeon and has her own clinic here. She’s gorgeous and very smart. You’ll be introduced to her tomorrow at lunch.”
I feel a punch in my heart picturing them in his villa, fucking in the pool while drinking caipirinhas. Oh God. I try to contain my pain, but it’s hard, so hard. “I heard about her.” I close my eyes for a second to take a deep breath.
“Are you alright, Petra?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit tired from the flight. Don’t worry.”
We step into a sumptuous marble lobby, which has high ceilings and a crystal chandelier in the center. We are promptly greeted by a young man in a suit and a lady next to him holding a tray with a glass of champagne and a green juice.
“Mr. Van Gatt. Welcome to Copacabana Palace,” greets the man, his face beaming as we take our respective glasses. “My name is José Rodrigues, the guest manager. I hope you had a pleasant flight.”
“Thank you, José. This is Petra, my daughter. We had a great flight, yes. Happy to be back in Rio.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Well, since the check-in has already been done in advance, I just wanted to personally give you the key cards to your respective suites. Also, just to confirm, the brunch for Mr. Marques will start at eleven thirty in the morning at the Cipriani Restaurant right in front of the pool area, which is obviously privatized all day long for the event.”
“Perfect, many thanks.”
“I won’t take up anymore of your time, Mr. Van Gatt. If there is anything else I may assist you with, here is my card with my direct line.” Dad nods. “I wish you both a great evening.” He shows us the way to the elevators, and we head up to our floor.
“Well, tomorrow at eleven thirty, I’ll pick you up to go to the gathering,” informs Dad. “It’s an elegant brunch to greet the wedding guests, and a lot of our clients are attending, so kindly dress accordingly.”
Dad is probably fearful I’ll show up tomorrow in sneakers and jeans. I chuckle picturing just that. “I know, don’t worry. Janine and I went for shopping to get some dresses for the occasion.”
“Perfect. Then see you tomorrow.” He gives me a kiss on the cheek. “If you need anything, my room is number five-oh-six.”
“I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow, Dad.”
I go to my suite. The first room is an elegant living space with two sofas, a low table, and an office desk; a small guest bathroom is on my right, with the bedroom further down. I look through the window and can see the Avenida Atlântica all lit up, many palm trees gently swaying outside and some cars still passing by. Just across the road, I sight the long, vast white sandy beach of Copacabana. I want to run out there now, take off my clothes, jump into the sea, and feel the fresh water of the ocean on my body. But doing it all without him simply isn’t worth it. I let out a sigh, wondering if he’s in his villa, swimming in the sea, or walking around… Will he already be with Rafaela? Ugh. Probably. I try to forget this nonsense and call Mom to let her know I’ve arrived safely.
Rio de Janeiro, October 18, 2019
Despite the comfortable bed, I didn’t sleep well last night. I’ve been so anxious at seeing Alex with his new girlfriend. I know it’ll be a big challenge to see them together. I fear they’ll kiss each other shamelessly in front of everyone. I thought about texting him and asking him not to, but that would be worse. He can’t know I care so much about it.
I take a deep breath and look at my outfit one last time. I opted for a light-pink chiffon dress, knee-length, with a ribbon wrapped around the waist and a lace corset with scoop neck. I also decided to wear the off-white pearls my father gave me a long time ago.
I hear knocking.
“Hi, Dad,” I greet him happ
ily while opening the door.
“Wow. You want Anabela to be jealous?”
“Who?”
“The bride-to-be, Paulo’s fiancée.”
“Oh…”
“I’m joking. You look radiant.”
“Thank you. You look great too.”
He stares at my neck, his face intrigued. “I’m glad to see you’re wearing the pearls I gave you. But…” he seems hesitant.
“But what?”
“Do you really need to wear your pendant with it?”
I instinctively touch it. “I won’t remove it.”
“Alright, I won’t insist. Shall we?”
Cipriani Restaurant is closed for a private event. More precisely, for the welcoming reception of Mr. Marques and his future wife, Anabela, a native Carioca. From what Dad told me, she’s a former real estate agent who’s been with Paulo for eight years. It’s her first marriage, but not his. Mr. Marques had been married previously and has twenty-year-old twins, Luiz and Miguel, with his first wife.
As we enter, we see Paulo entertaining guests alongside his wonderful thirty-two-year-old fiancée while the restaurant is quickly filling up. Oh, I recognize him now. That’s the man who was with Alex at the Et Al lounge. The atmosphere feels posh, selective. A bossa nova singer is crooning, and her musicians are playing in the background. Some guests are already seated at their tables, while others remain standing, glasses in hand, laughing and eating blinis with smoked salmon and caviar. Children are running around, and waiters are trying hard not to trip over them.
Blossom in Winter Page 19