Page 41 of Johan. (Van Den Bosch #8)

“I miss you too,” she says softly. “Stay safe, okay?”

As we hang up, I feel a pang of longing. I turn around to find Dean Pembroke and Professor Anderson stepping outside. Professor Anderson sees me first, a friendly smile spreading across his face as he approaches.

“Johan, how are you?” he asks, extending a hand. “Ludovic told me you were going to lead the team in Oman.”

I shake his hand firmly. “Yes, I’m quite excited about this expedition. The ancient city of Ubar is really fascinating.”

Dean Pembroke nods, his attention fully on us. “It’s an incredible opportunity. Best of luck with it.”

We talk briefly about the expedition, and Dean Pembroke congratulates me on my engagement with Astrid. The reminder stings, but I manage a polite smile.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

As they head back inside, I take a moment to collect myself. The night is far from over, and I need to maintain my composure. Taking a deep breath, I step back into the hall, ready to face whatever comes next.

Not even a second later, Conrad comes over, patting me on the back. “Do you want to join me and smoke one of these?” he asks, showing me a Cuban cigar. I’m not one to smoke, but if that means going to a room far from Astrid and everyone else, so be it.

“What about Olivia?” I ask, glancing towards his date, who is engrossed in conversation with a small group.

“She's busy with a few other people,” Conrad replies with a nonchalant shrug.

We make our way through the opulent hall, the chatter of the guests fading into the background.

The cigar room is dimly lit, with a rich, earthy scent of tobacco mingling with the scent of polished leather.

The walls are lined with dark wood paneling, and a few people are seated in plush armchairs, enjoying their cigars in quiet conversation.

Settling into two armchairs near the back, Conrad hands me a cigar and the cutter to slice the end before lighting it up. The flame flickers as I bring it to the cigar, and soon, smoke curls in the air, the aroma strong and heady. Conrad leans back, exhaling a cloud of smoke, his posture relaxed.

“So, how was your little honeymoon in the Netherlands?” His question was expected, but not the judgment in his tone. “Did you get along with your future in-laws?”

I shush him immediately, glancing around and making sure no one has heard him.

Then, I lean slightly forward, feeling the weight of the past week’s experiences.

“It was perfect. Her family is wonderful.” I smile, reminding myself of all the good moments I spent there.

“I got along with her youngest brother so well, little Arthur; he’s a sweetheart. ”

“And what about Elise? Did you get to see her?” Conrad probes, his voice just above a whisper, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.

“Well, she’s more nosy and mean than I recall,” I admit, a touch of frustration seeping into my voice.

“Or maybe that's how she's always been, but now you don't have the rosy lenses.” His tone is teasing but laced with truth, and he takes another puff from his cigar.

“Maybe,” I concede, shrugging as I take a drag from the cigar. The smoke fills my lungs, a foreign but strangely calming sensation.

“What about you?” I turn the conversation to him, seeking a distraction. “How are things with you and Olivia?”

“Doing alright. She's interested in me, so it’s a good change from my previous date,” Conrad says, a hint of bitterness in his tone, clearly referring to Hannah.

I lean forward, apologizing. “I'm sorry about that, Conrad.”

“That's okay,” he says, flicking ash into a crystal ashtray. “Now, how are you going to handle tonight? I'm pretty sure Astrid is expecting some… well, intimacy.”

I press my lips tight, the weight of the situation bearing down on me. “I know, but…” I stop mid-sentence, looking him in the eye as I exhale. “I can’t. I promised Hannah I wouldn’t do anything.”

“She's getting…frustrated, you know,” Conrad says, his voice serious.

My interest is piqued. “Did you speak to her?”

“Yep... She came back two days ago and we had a chat.”

“What did she tell you?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“Well, she knows you're leaving in two weeks for Oman, for God knows how long, and she hasn’t had sex with you for a long time. So... yeah, she told me to tell you that.”

I puff in displeasure, feeling cornered. The cigar smoke seems thicker and heavier, adding to my discomfort. “So she sent you to do the dirty work.”

Conrad leans forward, his expression earnest. “Don't take it like that. I'm just trying to help you.”

“I can't do it,” I say with finality. “And I won’t get coerced into doing it.”

“Fine, but what if she or her dad goes to Dean Pembroke and tells him about Hannah's secret?” Conrad’s words hang heavy in the air, the implications clear.

I huff and ponder for a moment, reminding myself of how much Hannah enjoys living in Cambridge, her classes, and her life here. I swallow hard and look at Conrad. “I need your help.”

“And what am I supposed to do? Have sex with your fiancée on your behalf?” Conrad jokes, though there's a hint of seriousness in his eyes.

I lower my voice even more, leaning towards him. “Maybe get her drunk, give her something that makes her sleepy.”

“Yeah, that would work for tonight, but what about the next fifteen nights until your departure?” Conrad counters, his eyes narrowing as he takes another puff.

I look up at him, desperation in my gaze. “I'm thinking of going back to Amsterdam tomorrow.”

Conrad gapes in shock. “What? You can't be serious. Astrid will never forgive you. She'll make sure Hannah's future is ruined.”

But I’m stubborn and insist, “That's why I need your help.”

“The only help I can give you is telling you the consequences of avoiding your duties as a fiancé,” Conrad says, his voice tinged with frustration.

I chuckle, feeling cornered. “I know the risks. But if I stay, I'm compromising everything I believe in.”

Conrad sighs, shaking his head. “You're playing with fire, Johan.”

“I know," I admit, exhaling a plume of smoke. “But I have to find a way out that doesn't destroy Hannah or me.”

Conrad leans back, studying me. “I'll do what I can, but you have to be smart about this.”

“Thank you,” I say, genuinely grateful.

As we sit in the cigar room, the smoke curling around us, I feel a semblance of calm.

For now, I have an ally, but the night is far from over, and the challenges ahead are daunting.

The rich leather armchairs, the low murmur of voices, and the distant strains of music from the main hall create a cocoon of temporary refuge.

Yet, the weight of my situation looms, and I can't shake the feeling that this fragile peace could shatter at any moment.

After leaving the cigar room, we head back into the main hall. The party is in full swing, with guests mingling and laughter filling the air. Astrid spots me, a bright smile lighting up her face as she makes her way over.

“Johan!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around me and planting a kiss on my mouth. “Where were you hiding?”

I try to sound casual. “Just having a cigar with Conrad.”

Her eyes twinkle with curiosity as she holds my arm. “Now, shall we exchange our gifts?”

I nod, head over to the gift table to retrieve mine and hand her the wrapped book. I expect we’ll exchange gifts right here in the middle of the party, but Astrid laughs softly and leans in to whisper, “My gift is upstairs. Come.”

She takes my hand, leading me through the throng of guests and up the grand staircase.

Each step makes me more nervous; I hate the thought of being alone with her in a private space.

We pass elegantly dressed guests, their masks adding an air of mystery to the evening.

The grand staircase is adorned with garlands and twinkling lights, each step creaking slightly under our weight.

We reach the top and cross a long, dimly lit corridor.

The walls are lined with portraits of her ancestors, their eyes seeming to follow us with a watchful gaze.

Antique mirrors reflect the flickering light from wall sconces, creating an almost eerie atmosphere.

The carpet beneath our feet muffles our steps, adding to the surreal quietness.

My heart races with each stride, the proximity of Astrid's hand tightening around mine, heightening my sense of dread.

Astrid finally stops at a large, ornate door and pushes it open, revealing her bedroom.

It’s lavishly decorated, the heavy curtains drawn shut, casting the room in a soft, intimate glow from the ornate lamps scattered around.

For a moment, a wave of panic washes over me as I fear the gift might be Astrid herself and that she’s going to start making out with me.

I brace myself, my heart pounding. But fortunately, she goes to her dresser and picks up a wrapped box.

Astrid hands it to me with a smile. “Open mine first,” she says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. I unwrap the gift slowly, revealing an archaeologist’s toolkit.

“It's for your expedition in Oman, so when you're there, you'll think of me.”

“Thank you, Astrid,” I say, trying to muster enthusiasm. “It's perfect.”

She eagerly tears into the wrapping on her gift, her eyes widening as she sees the book. “It's a first edition and signed by the author herself,” I say, trying to sound just as romantic as she did. “A little something to keep you busy while I'm away.”

Astrid flips through the pages, intrigued. “What is it about?”

I didn’t bother to check, so I say briefly, “It's a bestselling novel. I don't really want to spoil it for you, but it's one of my favorite books.” I hope to distract her with this answer.

“Really? Then I'll read it,” she says, giving me another kiss.

I try to back out gently. “Shall we go back downstairs? The fireworks are about to start.”

Astrid keeps kissing me, her hands roaming around the hem of my pants. “We still have time for a quickie,” she murmurs, her breath warm against my cheek.