Filed To Story: Craving The Wrong Brother Book PDF Free by Elysian Sparrow
The words barely leave my mouth before I realize it’s too late.
Daphne’s footsteps hit the stairs fast. I bet she heard Mom’s voice due to all that echoing in the hallway. Her hand is curled around the banister as she climbs.
Behind Daphne, my father hurries along.
Mom shifts on her feet, clutching her handbag tighter under her arm. Her chin lifts just enough to meet Daphne’s eyes as she comes into view.
“Is that who I think it is?” Daphne asks Dad.
“Daph-” my father tries, but she cuts him off.
“Why is your ex-wife in our house, Daniel? And why’s she putting on my dress?”
Silence. Nobody moves. Nobody speaks.
Mom’s eyes dart back and forth between Dad and Daphne, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. She’s calculating, weighing her options.
For a second-just a second-I think she might defend herself. Maybe explain that she didn’t steal anything, that Dad brought her here, and she had no choice about the clothes. Maybe she’ll tell Daphne what happened at the hospital, make her understand that this isn’t some scheme to mess with their marriage.
Instead, she says, “I’ll be leaving.”
And then she does something that’s so perfectly Mom it almost makes me laugh despite everything. She walks right past them.
Dad steps aside without even realizing he’s doing it. Daphne just stands there, mouth half-open. Mom doesn’t look back
I listen to her footsteps fade, then the soft sound of the front door opening and then slamming shut.
The sound of the door closing pulls Daphne out of her trance.
“What the hell was that, Daniel?” she says.
“Margot called. She said she was in the hospital and had no one else to call. I had to pick her up and ended up bringing her here:
“Hospital? Bring her here?” Daphne repeats. Her voice rises with every word. “You brought a woman into my house. She’s wearing my clothes and walking out like she owns the place. And I’m supposed to believe some cock-and-bull story about her having no one else? Do you realize the irony of this situation? You’ve been mad at me because of a picture. A damn picture of my old schoolmate kissing me on the cheek at a stupid lunch meeting. Meanwhile, you sneak your ex in when I’m not at home and let her try on my wardrobe?”
“Oh dear,” Grandma mutters, already lifting Beau up in her arms. “Let’s go, sweetheart. Time for bed.”
I’m stuck there like an idiot, not sure if I should stick around for the fallout or make myself scarce. That’s when my phone goes-off, buzzing against my hand like it’s having a seizure. I see Serena’s name flashing on the screen.
Thank God. Finally.
I don’t wait to see how this plays out between Dad and Daphne. I’m already moving, practically jogging down the hallway toward the guest room Mom slept in. I slip inside and pull the door shut just as I swipe to answer.
“Where have you been, Rena?” I say. “I’ve been trying to reach you for ages. Did you get my voicemail about Mom?”
There’s a beat of silence. Then a man’s voice.
“Hello, Sloane. It’s nice to hear your voice. Unfortunately, your sister can’t come to the phone right now. She’s in my custody as a hostage.”
AD
The words stop me cold, I press the phone closer to my ear, straining to hear something, anything, that might tell me this is some kind of joke,
“Who is this?”Task.
“You really don’t recognize my voice?”
There’s something smug in his tone, something that makes my skin crawl, I know that voice. God, I know that voice. My chest starts to tighten, like someone’s wrapping bands around my lungs and pulling them tighter with each breath.
No. No, no, no.
“Mateo?”
*Correct.”
“You have my sister?”
“I do, like I said.”
All this time, Knox and I had been so paranoid about watching our own backs, checking over our shoulders, making sure we were safe. We’d been so worried about protecting ourselves that we forgot we have family members in this city. Oh, that slimy bastard played us; I’ll give him that. But what ! won’t give him is the satisfaction of hearing me squirm without solid proof he’s telling the truth.
“Prove it.” I force the words out, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “Show her to me. I want to see.”
“Fine.”
The line goes quiet for a moment, then my phone buzzes with a video call request. My thumb hovers over the screen. Part of me doesn’t want to accept it, doesn’t want to see whatever hell Mateo’s about to show me. But I have to know. I have to see her.
I hit accept.
Mateo’s face fills the screen first-that same arrogant expression I remember, made even more infuriating by those stupid designer sunglasses he’s always wearing.
Then he flips the camera.
The image that appears makes my blood turn to ice. It’s a basement; that’s obvious. Masked men in all-black outfits stand in a line like they’re posing for some twisted family photo.
But it’s not the men I’m looking at.
The camera zooms in, and I see them. Hunter first-his usually perfect hair disheveled. Then Soraya. Finn’s there too, slumped forward in his chair.
And then Serena.
Her face is pale and terrified, but when she sees the camera pointing at her, she lifts her chin in that stubborn way that’s so familiar it makes my heart break.
They’re all tied up. All of them. Like animals waiting for slaughter.
“Do you believe me now?” Mateo asks.
“You son of a bitch. Let them go!”
“Not without getting what I want.”
The words stop me cold. I press the phone closer to my ear, straining to hear something, anything, that might tell me this is some kind of joke.
“Who is this?” I ask.
“You really don’t recognize my voice?”
There’s something smug in his tone, something that makes my skin crawl. I know that voice, God, I know that voice. My chest starts to tighten, like someone’s wrapping bands around my lungs and pulling them tighter with each breath.
No. No, no, no.
“Mateo?”
“Correct.”
“You have my sister?”
“I do, like I said.”
All this time, Knox and I had been so paranoid about watching our own backs, checking over our shoulders, making sure we were safe. We’d been so worried about protecting ourselves that we forgot we have family members in this city. Oh, that slimy bastard played us; I’ll give him that. But what I won’t give him is the satisfaction of hearing me squirm without solid proof he’s telling the truth.
“Prove it.” I force the words out, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “Show her to me. I want to see.”
“Fine.”
The line goes quiet for a moment, then my phone buzzes with a video call request. My thumb hovers over the her. it, doesn’t want to see whatever hell Mateo’s about to show me. But I have to know. I have to see screen. Part of me doesn’t want to accept
I hit accept.
Mateo’s face fills the screen first-that same arrogant expression I remember, made even more infuriating by those stupid designer sunglasses he’s always wearing.
Then he flips the camera.
The image that appears makes my blood turn to ice. It’s a basement; that’s obvious. Masked men in all-black outfits stand in a line like they’re posing for some twisted family photo.
But it’s not the men I’m looking at.