Page 16 of Johan.

Oma reaches out across the space between us, her hand covering mine. “With the father she has, I’m not surprised that Astrid turned out the way she is.” She pauses for a moment, pondering further. “Is he still pursuing Ubar? If I recall properly, Ludovic was obsessed with the lost city my sister was studying.”

“He is. And now he’s turned to Johan to go there.”

Her eyes widen in surprise at my answer. “Ludovic is playing the long game. Keeping Johan cornered and under his thumb.” She takes another sip of her tea, her mind reeling. “His true love has always been treasure hunting. All that Johan needs to do is play along until he gathers evidence about who Ludovic truly is. Then, and only then, he’d be able to get him arrested and free himself from this engagement.” Her words are wise, as they always are, tinged with the experience of someone who has seen much of the world’s darker corners yet still believes in the light. “But remember, my dear,” she continues, her grip tighteningreassuringly, “no matter what happens, you have a family and a home here that will support you. You are not alone in this.”

The assurance in her voice, the steadfast presence she offers, steadies me. As we sit together, the fire casting a warm glow around us, I feel a renewed sense of resolve. No matter what challenges Johan and I may face, Oma’s unwavering strength, love, and steadfast support will be our guiding light, illuminating even the darkest paths ahead.

As we sit together, the gentle crackle of the fire provides a soothing undertone to our serious conversation. Suddenly, though, there’s a soft knock at the door. One of the staff steps in quietly, bowing slightly as he announces, “The Honorable Johan Bentinck has arrived, Lady Margaret.”

The title catches me completely off guard.The Honorable?I stifle a chuckle, momentarily thrown by the formality.

But before I can fully process it, my heart leaps, a swirl of excitement and nerves taking over. I rise to my feet, trying to steady myself as the door slowly opens and Johan steps into the room. His presence shifts the atmosphere immediately—an unmistakable tension fills the space, yet there’s a sense of relief as familiar faces gather in this safe, supportive haven.

Johan’s eyes meet mine briefly, a storm of emotions passing between us before he turns to greet Oma. “Good evening, Lady Margaret,” he says with a respectful nod, his voice carrying a nervous energy that belies his usual composure.

“Johan, my boy, come in,” Oma responds, her tone warm. She rises from her seat with regal poise, observing Johan with an insightful gaze that seems to see right through him. “Hannah told me everything about your engagement to Astrid. My most sincere condolences.”

“Oh, thank you,” Johan answers with a small chuckle. They shake hands in a quite formal fashion, which is quite odd to me.

“If I may give you a piece of advice,” Oma continues, “play the long game with Ludovic, go with him on his expedition, gather all the evidence you need that he’s a shameless treasure hunter, and then disgrace him and throw him under the bus.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do. This plan seems the only sensible way to take him down.”

“It is. But be careful,” Oma warns seriously. “My sister tried to gather evidence but was caught beforehand. I do not know how she escaped his grip, but if she’s still hiding, I assume it wasn’t easy.”

Johan, sensing the gravity of the situation, manages a nervous nod, and then his eyes dart back to me, seeking reassurance. I give him a small, encouraging smile, my own heart still racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Before the silence can stretch uncomfortably, Oma breaks the tension with a directness that’s characteristic of her. “Fear not, Johan, I know what you both are up to; no need to play pretend here,” she says, her voice firm yet not without kindness.

His nervous chuckle turns into a more genuine, albeit still anxious, laugh. “I suppose that does make things simpler,” he admits, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he accepts the reality of our situation now laid bare.

“I might not be thrilled about my granddaughter being involved with an engaged man, but given the circumstances of your engagement, I will make an exception.” Oma pauses, her expression softening. “Now, let’s head to dinner. We can continue our discussion more comfortably there.” She moves past us, her stride confident, each step measured and deliberate as she leads the way out of the living room.

As we follow her to the dining room, the grandeur of the estate feels less imposing, more like a stronghold where we can strategize and find solace. The dining room is elegantly set, candles flickering gently on the table, casting soft lights andshadows that dance across the fine china and crystal. Sitting down to dinner, the earlier tension slowly dissolves, replaced by the comforting rituals of passing dishes and pouring wine. After a few moments of comfortable small talk, Oma shifts the conversation toward Johan, her voice gentle but deliberate. “So, Johan, tell me, how is your family handling all of this? Surely, they are aware of the entire situation.”

Johan pauses, setting down his glass with a measured deliberation as though the answer weighs on him. He glances at me briefly, then back to Oma, his eyes darkening with the burden he’s about to share. “It's… complicated.” He takes a deep breath, the heaviness in the air palpable. “Ludovic bought up my family’s debts. My father, unfortunately, has been mismanaging our finances for years. We’re practically bankrupt now, and Ludovic took advantage of that. He owns our debts and controls our fate, just like he intended.”

The words hang in the air like a dark cloud, the flickering candlelight casting shifting shadows over Johan’s troubled expression. His voice tightens with frustration. “He’s using our financial situation as leverage—to manipulate my dad, my family… and me. It’s like every step I take only strengthens his grip. But I can’t let him keep us trapped like this.”

Oma listens carefully, her gaze compassionate. She reaches across the table, placing her hand over Johan’s in a gesture of solidarity. “We’ll find a way through this,” she says firmly. “Ludovic may think he holds all the power, but we’re not without our own resources. We’ll plan. And we’ll act.”

Johan gives a small, appreciative nod, but the weight of his words lingers over the table. Despite the comforting setting and the familiar routine of dinner, the reality of what lies ahead seeps into every corner of the room, unshakable and pressing.

When dinner finally concludes, and Oma bids us goodnight, the house falls into a quiet lull, the weight of the evening’s discussions still lingering in the air. Johan’s hand brushes against mine as we walk side by side through the dimly lit hallway, his touch a subtle invitation, drawing me deeper into the night with him. There’s an unspoken tension between us, a quiet current of desire that’s been building throughout the evening, simmering beneath polite conversation and fleeting glances. Each step we take feels heavier, laden with anticipation, and by the time we reach the door to his room, my heart is pounding in my chest.

Johan stops at the bedroom door and turns to me, his eyes warm with an intensity that makes me instinctively lean towards him. With practiced ease, his hands settle on my hips, and he pulls me close, his lips finding mine in a way that feels both familiar and electric. I slide my hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck as Johan's tongue slips past my lips. But just as the heat between us builds, he pulls away almost reluctantly. Confused, I look up at him, catching the resigned smile on his face.

“Goodnight, Hannah.”

It takes me a moment to understand what he means. We've been given separate bedrooms, obviously, but not once did I think we wouldn't be sleeping in the same bed. The separate rooms are for appearances, nothing more.

“What do you mean 'goodnight'? Let's go in.” I run my hands up his broad chest, feeling his racing heart as I do so. “The night is just getting started.”

He groans, but not in pleasure, more like he's being tortured as he takes my wrists in his hands and gently pulls me away from him. “Sweetheart, out of respect for your grandmother, I just can't. Even if it's the only thing in the damned world I want to do right now.”

“Oh, come on. We're both adults here.”

“That's not what I meant.” Johan leans down and presses another chaste kiss against my lips. “You need to go. Now.”

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