Page 42 of Johan. (Van Den Bosch #8)

“Your makeup and hair are so beautiful, it's not worth ruining it now. We can do it afterward," I say, trying to divert her. But she starts focusing on my belt, unfastening it.

"What about the pictures? We haven't taken any," I add, desperate for any excuse as she then goes for the fly of my pants.

She finally stops, her eyes wide. "Oh gosh, you're right." She rushes into the bathroom, checking sherif in the mirror to adjust her chignon and makeup.

I sigh in relief, my heart still racing. When she returns, she takes my hand, her touch insistent. “Let's go down, take a few pics, and then watch the fireworks. But then…" She kisses me sensually on the lips. “Then we’ll have our first fuck of the year.”

We descend the stairs, the ambient noise of the party growing louder as we reach the bottom. Ludovic calls Astrid over, giving me a moment to slip away. I find Conrad quickly, grabbing his arm in a panic. “We need to give Astrid something.”

“I have nothing with me, man,” he says, confused.

“Please, help me out, I don't want to fuck her,” I insist, my distress palpable.

Conrad chuckles despite the seriousness of the situation but then ponders seriously for a moment. “The only thing I can think of is… shots?”

A spark of hope ignites. “You're a genius. She tends to get so drunk with shots.”

Conrad calls Olivia and Astrid over, suggesting they toast for the New Year. The photographer comes in and takes a few pictures of the four of us before we start to drink. Astrid then asks the photographer, “Okay, now one with my fiancé.” We pose, and then it’s time for the shots.

Conrad orders a round of tequila shots, and the bartender lines up four small glasses, filling them with the clear liquid. The salt and lime wedges are placed beside each shot. Astrid's eyes light up with excitement as she picks up the saltshaker, sprinkling some on the back of her hand.

"Ready?" she asks, grinning at us.

We all nod, and Astrid leads by example. She licks the salt off her hand, downs the shot in one go, and bites into the lime, her face scrunching up momentarily before breaking into a wide smile. We follow suit, the tequila burning its way down my throat, the tartness of the lime a sharp contrast.

"Another round!" Astrid exclaims, her enthusiasm infectious.

The bartender quickly refills our glasses, and we repeat the ritual. Astrid is super excited, asking another girl to take a video with her iPhone for her Instagram. The tequila begins to take effect, a warm buzz spreading through my body, but I remain focused, aware of my goal.

Feeling the need to ensure Astrid's incapacitation, I decide to push it further. "How about one more round?" I suggest, forcing a cheerful tone.

Astrid's eyes widen with delight. "Yes! Another round!" she cheers, clapping her hands.

Conrad raises an eyebrow but signals the bartender to pour another round. The small glasses are lined up once more, filled to the brim. We go through the ritual a third time, and by now, the alcohol is clearly taking its toll on Astrid. Her movements are more exaggerated, her laughter louder.

Just then, we hear the sound of the first fireworks pulled up.

We follow everyone and head outside to watch them.

Astrid is quite tipsy, cheerful, and can’t stop dancing in the middle of the garden.

The sky lights up in brilliant colors, the explosions resonating in the cold night air.

As I watch, standing still, I can’t help but think about Hannah, hoping I’ll manage to escape Astrid’s grip for the night.

Astrid walks over and hugs me tightly, her eyes wide with wonder as she looks up at the sky. “They are so beautiful. Wow.” Then glancing around, she raises her arm as if waving to the crowd. “Happy New Year, everyone!” she exclaims, her voice filled with excitement.

Everyone around us is cheering, their joyous energy palpable. I try to match their enthusiasm, but my heart isn't in it. The fireworks are dazzling, but all I can think about is how to escape the woman who is tightly embracing me.

As the final burst of fireworks fades away, Astrid turns to me, her eyes sparkling. “Now let's go upstairs,” she whispers, her breath warm against my ear. She takes my hand, leading me away from the crowd.

“Astrid, maybe we should stay a bit longer and enjoy the party," I suggest, my voice laced with a hint of desperation. But she ignores my plea, her grip on my hand tightening as she pulls me towards the staircase.

"We've enjoyed the party enough," she says, her tone insistent. "It's time for us to have some alone time.”

Each step up the grand staircase feels like a step closer to my doom. My mind races, trying to come up with excuses to delay the inevitable. "Astrid, I think I need to check on Conrad. He looked a bit unwell earlier," I try again, but she doesn't even slow down.

"Conrad will be fine," she replies dismissively, her focus entirely on getting us to her bedroom.

Once we’re inside, Astrid closes the door behind us, and the click of the lock sends a jolt of fear through me. She turns to me with a seductive smile, her hands immediately going to my lapel as she leans in. “Finally alone,” she murmurs and then pushes me against the wall.

“Astrid, maybe we should talk first,” I stammer, trying to buy some time.

But she’s already working on removing my jacket, her fingers deft and determined. “We’ve talked enough tonight," she says, her voice low and husky. My heart races in distress as she slides the jacket off my shoulders and lets it fall to the floor.

She moves to my bow tie next, untying it with a swift motion and tossing it aside. “Don’t you want to at least bid farewell to our friends?” I ask, my voice rising slightly in panic. “We can do this afterward.”

She ignores me, her fingers deftly unbuttoning my shirt. “Don’t be silly,” she whispers, her breath hot against my neck. “This is what we both want.”

Each button she undoes makes my heart pound harder. My mind races, desperately searching for a way to stop her.

She opens my shirt, her hands roaming over my chest before moving down to my belt. “Astrid, I think we should?—”

Before I can finish my sentence, she unbuckles my belt, her hands moving with increasing urgency. My anxiety spikes, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. What else can I do to stop her?

Suddenly, Astrid's face pales, and she stops, swaying slightly. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and unfocused. “I... I don’t feel so good,” she mumbles, her hand going up to her mouth.

“Astrid, you don't look well at all,” I say, seizing the opportunity. “Let me get you some water.”

She nods weakly, her complexion growing paler. “Yes... water... I need…”

I rush out of the bedroom, my heart pounding in my chest. I find a housekeeper and quickly explain, “Astrid is feeling quite nauseous after all the vodka and tequila she drank. Could you get me a glass of water, a hangover pill, and something to help her sleep?”

By the time I return to her room, Astrid is in the en-suite bathroom, on her knees by the toilet, throwing up. I wait patiently for her to finish. A few minutes pass before she stands up, flushes the toilet, and goes to wash her face and brush her teeth. “Oh, my head. I'm so tired.”

“You're dehydrated, mostly. Here, drink some water and take this,” I say, handing her the water and pills.

She complies, looking utterly exhausted, which makes me ask, “What did you take besides the shots?”

“Eh, a few glasses of champagne, wine at dinner, a gin tonic when Conrad and Olivia arrived, and then three shots with you guys,” she mumbles.

I thank the gods for her early start on drinking. “Now go and get some sleep.”

I help her out of her gown and tuck her into bed. “We can still have some fun,” she pleads, her eyes heavy-lidded.

“Not when you are that drunk,” I insist, kissing her forehead gently. “Now go get some sleep.”

"You're so caring. I love you so much,” she murmurs, her voice trailing off.

“Sleep well, Astrid.” I close the door behind me, sighing in relief.

I descend the stairs, thinking about how close that was.

The night isn’t over, but for now, I’ve managed to escape her clutches.

I check my watch; it's only 12:30. The party is still in full swing in the foyer and grand hall, the sounds of laughter and music echoing through the corridors.

I cross the foyer, weaving through the guests, and make my way outside to a quiet spot on the terrace where no one can hear me.

Pulling out my phone, I dial Hannah’s number, my thumb hovering for a second before I press the call button. The line rings once, twice, and then I hear her voice—a sound that immediately makes everything feel lighter

“Hey, you,” she says, her tone warm and inviting.

“Happy New Year, beautiful.” Keeping my voice low and intimate, I let a hint of playfulness seep through.

Hannah giggles softly, and the sound sends a wave of warmth through me. “Happy New Year, handsome. How’s your night going?”

“Pretty well,” I reply, a grin tugging at the corner of my lips. “Got Astrid so drunk she passed out. She’s sleeping in bed now.”

Hannah laughs again, her tone teasing. “Really? Did you two…?”

“She tried,” I admit with a sigh. “Twice. But I stopped her before anything could happen.”

There’s a pause on the other end, the weight of the unspoken hanging between us. Then, Hannah’s voice breaks through, softer now. “And… are you coming back to the Netherlands?”

I hear the hope in her question, and it tugs at something inside me. “I hope so,” I answer honestly. “But I have a request first.”

“Go on,” she says, her curiosity piqued.

I take a deep breath, my tone shifting to something more serious. “Would you… spend the last night before I leave for Oman with me? In Cambridge?”

There’s a brief silence, and I feel my pulse quicken as I wait for her reply. The seconds stretch on, and then finally, she speaks, her voice gentle. “I think so.”