Survival Instinct: Brian Book One (Van Zant Siblings 1)

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Survival Instinct: Brian Book One (Van Zant Siblings 1) Page 19

by Roxy Harte


  “Just ignore Ellie. She’s way too hap-py. She thinks she’s in lo-ove.”

  “What?” I exclaim, really ready to get on the next flight to Amsterdam.

  “Don’t worry, Grandpa wouldn’t let him come into the room. Besides, he’s an art history major, minoring in education. What a loser. It’ll never last, so no worries.”

  “Tell her no dating while she’s on foreign soil.” Art history major? Education? Oh hell, she’s falling for a young version of her father?

  “Grandpa already told her that.”

  “Let me talk to your grandfather.”

  “Can’t. He went to bed with Grandma.” Bree giggles. “Did Ellie tell you about the French maid costume? Oh my god. It was hil-ar-i-ous on the hanger. You should see it on Grandma.”

  I hear Ells hiss in the background, “Let me talk.”

  “Wait, Ellie. Gosh,” Bree tells her sister, then to me says, “I’m gonna go to bed now. I wanted to tell you happy birthday and I love you.”

  I smile. “I love you too, baby. Thank you, and good night.”

  “It’s me,” Ells tells me, having taken over the phone and relays to her sister, “Mom said she loves you,” before coming back to me. “Mom? Bree says she loves you too, and I love you. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.” Tears fill my eyes and I wipe them hastily away.

  “We are officially safe and sound in our hotel room. So stop worrying.”

  “Okay, I’ll try.”

  “No. Promise,” she insists. “I want you to have fun this summer. Get out and meet some people. Meet a man. You deserve to be happy again.”

  I smile, my face screwing up as I try not to cry, thinking how grown-up she actually sounds over the phone.

  “I am happy,” I insist.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she mocks. “Don’t be mad at us about today, okay? We were just blowing off a little steam. You know we’re good kids, right?”

  I assure her, “Yes, baby, I know you’re good kids.”

  “Okay. Just so you know. I love you. Happy birthday!”

  “I love you too.” I wipe more tears away, trying not to sob out loud because my chest is aching so much with missing them. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Yep. Just like we promised. You will hear our happy, safe and sound voices every day. So you won’t have to worry.”

  “I’ll worry anyway,” I promise.

  “’Kay, Mommy. Good night.”

  Click.

  “Good night, baby.”

  “It’s me.”

  Oh hell, I think to myself, hearing Frankie’s voice. Shaking my head, I try to wake myself up from the dream I’m having. It’s too surreal hearing my daughters’ voices from so far away, seeming so much as if they are in the next room, and then Frankie’s voice filling my brain in the very next sentence. I gasp, “Frankie.”

  “Come to me.”

  I shake my head, finally finding my voice to say, “That isn’t possible.”

  It’s been too long. I’m not the same woman, even if you are still the same man.

  But two decades hasn’t been enough time to forget the thrill in the pit of my stomach every time I’ve caught a whiff of leather over the years, not enough time to quell the instant wetness that coated the inside of my thighs the second I heard the timbre of his commanding voice, and definitely not long enough to still the pounding of my heart as it tries to leap through my ribs at the mere thought of being held in his arms once more, post-flogging. What am I thinking? That I can just rush off to meet him as in the good old days? The key word here being old…as in I am old, used up, done. Not to mention twenty pounds heavier if the mirror and my jeans size are to be believed.

  “Anything is possible, Cassiopeia, if you are willing.”

  “Please, Frankie, I haven’t been called Cassiopeia in a very long time. We were kids then, playing a kids’ game. You can’t really expect me to meet you just like that, can you? I have responsibilities.”

  “It was never a game, Charlotte. I’m sorry you ever thought it was.”

  Click.

  The dial tone buzzes in my head several seconds before I realize he hung up on me. And he called me Charlotte. Frankie has never, ever called me Charlotte. Damn. Damn. Damn.

  More Roxy Harte

  Stand Alone Novels:

  LOVERS

  PORN STARS FALL IN LOVE TOO

  BOUND BY TRADITION

  DEBONAIR DYKE

  PRODIGAL SLAVE

  The Van Zant Siblings Series/Little Bedtime Stories Series Crossover:

  Julian and Liam

  A LITTLE INDULGENCE

  A LITTLE IN DANGER

  A LITTLE KINKY ADVENTURE

  The Van Zant Siblings Series

  Brian

  Survival Instinct

  Alexandra

  SURVIVING THE BIG MISTAKES

  CONSEQUENCES OF THE BIG MISTAKES

  LEARNING FROM THE BIG MISTAKES

  SHIBARI PRESENCE

  HEALING FROM THE BIG MISTAKES

  REVELATIONS OF THE BIG MISTAKES

  Jessica

  LEARNING TO BREATHE

  LEARNING TO BREATHE AGAIN

 

 

 


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