Page 48 of Johan.

My groin tightens, and the tension only grows until I force the whispered words out, “Fuck, Hannah.” It feels as though I'm on the brink of insanity. There is no logic here. No sanity. My body takes over completely as she swallows me over and over. “Yes, baby, yes.”

Hands tight on my ass, her grip on my hips, and the sight of her kneeling before me is far too much, and with a muffled groan, I release in her mouth, Hannah drinking me down as I come apart completely.

Opening my eyes, we share a look, a laugh bubbling up from my chest. My head tips back with a shake, and I gasp out my euphoria, reveling in this moment that I'll never forget.

It takes a moment for the daze to clear, but when it does, I allow the embarrassment over my quick finish to filter in. Leaning down, I collect Hannah from the floor, her gown soft in my hands as I gently help her to her feet.

After our passionate moment together, Hannah leads us to the petit salon where everyone is gathering. I start to follow but quickly stop in my tracks, noticing three missed calls and a text message from Astrid. Guilt twists in my stomach; I’ve ignored her almost all week at Conrad’s and didn’t call her on Christmas Eve either. The last thing I need is her wrath before I get to go to Oman.

Quickly excusing myself, I search for a quiet place away from prying ears. Finding solace in the living room, far from the petit salon, I stand by the large windows and dial Astrid's number.The phone rings a few times before she picks up, her voice cheerful and warm.

“Merry Christmas, Johan!” she says brightly. Her tone is light, filled with the joy of the season.

“Merry Christmas, Astrid,” I reply, trying to match her cheerfulness. “How's everything going over there?”

“It's beautiful here,” she gushes. “The Maldives are absolutely stunning. We've been snorkeling, lounging on the beach, and just soaking up the sun. How about you? How are things with your parents?”

I hesitate for a moment, glancing around the unfamiliar living room. “It's good. Just the usual family gatherings, you know.”

“That sounds nice,” she says, a hint of longing in her voice. "I wish we could have spent Christmas together. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I say, feeling the weight of my words. “We'll make up for it when you get back.”

“We better,” she teases lightly. “Alright, I'll let you get back to your family. Merry Christmas, Johan.”

“Merry Christmas, Astrid,” I reply, hanging up the phone.

Turning around, and to my shock, I see Elise standing in the center of the room, having just picked up her clutch from the sofa. Her eyes lock onto mine, and I can tell she overheard at least part of my conversation. Embarrassment floods through me, and I clear my throat, trying to remain composed.

“Just making a few phone calls to family. I'll join you all soon,” I say, attempting to sound casual.

Elise doesn't move. She stands there, her expression shifting from curiosity to something more intense. Her eyes narrow slightly, and she crosses her arms defensively. After a moment of hesitation, she blurts out, “What are you trying to achieve by coming here?”

I frown, genuinely confused by her question. “What do you mean?”

“A good friend? Really?” Her voice drips with sarcasm as she arches an eyebrow. “Why did you come here? Why aren’t you with your fiancée spending Christmas?”

I heave a long sigh at her question. “It’s complicated, Elise. And with all due respect, none of your business.”

But I should know Elise better, and instead of leaving, she takes a step closer, her posture rigid and confrontational. “Right. Don't try using my sister to hurt me.”

My eyes widen in shock. “What? To hurt you?” I step back, shaking my head in disbelief. “I like your sister. A lot. But it has nothing to do with you.”

Elise’s eyes narrow further, skepticism evident in her gaze. Her lips press into a thin line. “If you say so.”

I shake my head, my patience wearing thin. “I mean it, Elise.”

Finally, she turns to leave, her self-centered behavior a stark contrast to Hannah’s warm and genuine nature. I watch her go, a mix of relief and irritation settling over me. Taking a deep breath, I ready myself to rejoin the others in the petit salon.

21

Hannah

I walkinto the petit salon alone, the soft amber light casting a warm glow over the room. The familiar scent of polished wood and old books fills the air, evoking memories of countless family gatherings. The room is elegantly furnished, with plush chairs and an intricately carved mahogany bar in the corner, where my dad stands, preparing a drink with a practiced hand. To my left, Amelia is deep in conversation with Mom and Oma on the couch, their voices a low murmur of laughter and shared stories. By the fireplace, Andries, Dan, and Roxanne are sipping drinks, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames as they engage in relaxed conversation.

As I approach the bar, I take in my dad’s appearance: his hair, now more salt than pepper, and the slight furrow in his brow as he focuses on his task. I can tell he's lost in thought.

“What are you drinking, Pops?” I ask, my voice breaking the comfortable silence as I sit at the bar beside him.

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