Page 37 of Johan. (Van Den Bosch #8)

Hannah

After spending the afternoon in the petit salon catching up with my parents, they finally leave, taking with them the new toys and the children.

Julia takes Arthur’s small hand in hers, ready to lead him to the foyer.

He clutches his toy sword in one hand and a small dragon figurine in the other, his steps reluctant.

As they reach the doorway, Arthur glances back over his shoulder, his gaze landing on Johan standing beside me. His wide, hopeful eyes search Johan’s face, a flicker of longing in them.

"Is Johan coming home too?" he asks, his voice filled with innocent curiosity, holding his dragon a little tighter.

Julia bends down to his level, smoothing his hair with a gentle hand. “No sweetie,” she says softly, "Johan is staying at Oma’s."

Arthur's face falls slightly, his disappointment evident.

He glances down at his dragon, his little knight momentarily crestfallen.

But then, with a bright spark of an idea lighting up his eyes, he looks back up, his grip on the sword tightening with newfound determination.

"Maybe tomorrow you guys can come and spend the day with us," he suggests, his small voice filled with hope.

Johan glances at me, and I nod, a warm smile spreading across my face. “I’ve missed my bedroom quite a bit,” I admit softly, feeling a pang of homesickness.

Arthur beams at our agreement, his joy contagious. "Yay! It will be so much fun!" he exclaims, already imagining the adventures to come, waving his sword around as if vanquishing invisible foes.

As everyone departs, Amelia and Margaret head off for a cup of tea.

The house feels quieter, almost serene. I take Johan’s hand, feeling the warmth and solidity of his grip, and lead him upstairs.

He seems hesitant but follows me without protest. Once we reach the room, I turn the key in the lock, the sound echoing in the stillness, and gently push him onto the bed.

“Hannah—I,” he begins, but I place a finger on his lips to silence him.

“Let’s enjoy the here and now,” I whisper, leaning in slowly to kiss him. My lips brush against his, tentative and searching, but he pulls back, confusion etched across his face.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you want to talk about it?” he asks, his voice full of concern.

I shake my head, trying to push away the thoughts that threaten to overwhelm me. “Johan, whatever you intend to do, I know there’ll be consequences. So I’d rather not think about it right now.”

He watches me for a moment, the silence stretching between us. Then, slowly, he nods. He understands. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer as he leans in again, his lips meeting mine.

This time, the kiss is deeper and more urgent. His hands find their way to my waist, pulling me onto the bed beside him. I straddle him, feeling the warmth of his body through our clothes. His hands roam up my back, fingers tracing patterns that send shivers down my spine.

I lose myself in the sensation, my hands tangling in his hair as our kisses grow more passionate. His lips move from my mouth to my neck, planting soft, lingering kisses along my skin. I arch my back, a soft moan escaping my lips as his hands slide under my shirt, his touch gentle but insistent.

Johan pauses, looking up at me with eyes darkened by desire but still searching for reassurance. I nod, my breath coming in short gasps. “I’m sure,” I whisper, my voice trembling with emotion.

He resumes his exploration, his hands and lips working in tandem to heighten my senses. I tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head, wanting to feel his skin against mine. He mirrors my actions, his hands deftly removing my top. The sensation of his bare chest against mine is electrifying.

We continue to make out, our bodies moving together in a rhythm as old as time.

The world outside ceases to exist; all that matters is this moment, here and now, with Johan.

Every touch, every kiss, every sigh is a promise of more to come, a silent vow that whatever the future holds, we will face it together.

The next day, as I wake up next to Johan, the reality that in a few days he will be by Astrid’s arm, being celebrated as her fiancé, makes my stomach churn.

I slip out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb him, and walk to the window.

The snow is falling softly, covering the grounds outside with a pristine white blanket—so serene, and so different from the turmoil inside me.

I stand there for a while, lost in thought.

I can’t help but wonder if Astrid will kiss him on the lips, pull him into a quiet room, and have a quickie.

And Johan, how will he react? Will he succumb to the pressure and have sex with her?

The idea is too awful to think about. My hands tremble slightly as I grab my phone and text Conrad.

With a request forming in the back of my mind, I type, Please, watch Johan for me at the ball.

Make sure Astrid doesn’t pressure him to do anything he’d regret.

I hope that at least I can count on him for that.

Johan stirs behind me, the rustling of the sheets breaking the silence. He opens his eyes, blinking slowly as he adjusts to the morning light. He sees me standing by the window and a soft smile tugs at his lips. I force myself to smile back and walk over to greet him with a kiss.

“Have you been awake for long?” he asks, his voice still heavy with sleep.

Sitting beside him, I fail miserably to hide my torment. “Just enough to think a bit.”

“And what did you think about?” His hand reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear.

“About us. About the ball. About everything,” I say, lowering my eyes before meeting his again.

Despite my mind still weighing down with worry, I need to tell him the truth.

“You need to attend that party. It’s the only way to go all the way with our plan without raising suspicion.

We are already so lucky to be here spending Christmas together. ”

Johan nods, his expression serious as he takes in my words.

“Just be careful. Don’t let her take advantage of you,” I add, my voice trembling slightly.

At that moment, Johan takes my hand, his eyes filled with sincerity. “I love you, Hannah. You’ve no idea how much I do.”

I sneer, hating this moment and the helplessness I feel. “Johan, please,” I mutter, turning away, but he holds my hand firmly, not letting me go.

“Please, let me finish.” His blue eyes lock with mine, filled with determination. “When I have the evidence against Ludovic, I’ll break off that engagement, and we’ll become official.”

“Don’t,” I say, pressing a hand against his chest to stop him from kissing me. “Let’s just… go have a shower.”

He looks at me with a mix of confusion and hurt, but he doesn’t protest. We both know the gravity of the situation and the importance of the roles we have to play.

As we head to the bathroom, I try to shake off the feeling of dread that clings to me, but it lingers, a constant reminder of the uncertain future we face.

We step into the shower, the warm water cascading over us, and for a moment, we find solace in the simplicity of being together, letting the outside world and its troubles wash away, if only temporarily.

The car ride to the Van den Bosch estate is mostly silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

Johan and I sit in the backseat, the hum of the engine the only sound between us.

The driver navigates the snow-covered roads with practiced ease, but I can see the tension in Johan's profile, the way his fingers drum restlessly on his knee.

My own thoughts are a whirlwind, the landscape outside a blur of white and gray as we move through the wintry countryside.

We finally arrive at the estate, the grand house standing proudly amidst the snowy landscape.

As we step out of the car, the cold air bites at my cheeks, but the sight of the Christmas decorations warms my heart.

The house is adorned with twinkling lights and garlands, and the rich scent of pine fills the air, transforming it into a festive wonderland.

Arthur greets us at the door, his excitement palpable. He rushes forward, his toy sword in one hand and a dragon figurine in the other. “Johan! Hannah!” he exclaims, eyes wide with joy. He runs up to Johan, tugging at his sleeve. “Come see my room! I have new toys to show you!”

Johan glances at me, then back at Arthur. “Maybe later, buddy. Hannah and I just got here.”

Arthur's face falls, but he quickly recovers, his determination shining through. “Please, Johan! You have to see Drago! He breathes fire!”

Johan chuckles, unable to resist Arthur's enthusiasm. “Alright, alright. Lead the way, Sir Arthur.”

Arthur beams, grabbing Johan’s hand and practically dragging him upstairs. I take this moment to slip away and check my own bedroom, the one I have missed so much.

Entering my room feels like stepping into a time capsule; everything is as I left it, each item a precious piece of my past. My collection of oddities lines the shelves, each one a story, a memory.

As I examine my treasures, my eyes fall on an item that stands out—a vintage erotic ring.

The ring, made of intertwined naked female figures, is over 160 years old.

I remember how it had been sold for $2600 in an antique shop in Amsterdam before I had stolen it, unable to resist its allure.

I take the ring in my hand, its cool metal sending a shiver through me. An idea begins to form in my mind, vague but intriguing. Slipping the ring into my pocket, I decide to check on Arthur and Johan.

I find them in Arthur's room, Johan sitting on the floor, listening attentively as Arthur enthusiastically shows off his toys. Arthur's voice is animated, his little hands moving expressively as he talks.

“And this one,” Arthur says, holding up the toy dragon, “is Drago. He breathes fire and can fly super high!”