It Might Be You Read online

  “Everything will be fine,” Charles said firmly, as if it were a command. Standing side by side, they were the same exact height, and Charles peered harder at Nick for a long beat. “You know, there’s something very . . . familiar about you. I feel like we’ve met before or something. I know that sounds weird, and I can’t explain it.” He stared a moment longer, then shrugged. “Maybe it’s just the intensity of the situation. Or maybe you’re a match for Myles because you’re some long-lost cousin five times removed, who the hell knows?” Rolling his eyes at himself, Charles chuckled and turned to finish crossing the marbled lobby. “I trust you already, Nick. That’s what my gut says. In any case, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. Come, I’ll make sure everything’s fine with check-in before I leave you be.”

  Speechless, shaken, Nick swallowed back the lump in his throat and walked with Charles to the front desk. Lew’s warning words rang in his ears: YOU are the neon sign.

  Well, tonight, with the entire Harrison family there? He’d see just how true that may or may not be. He was too curious to turn down the chance to find out.

  Chapter Five

  Nick was nicely surprised by the hotel suite. Modern and luxurious, it suited him fine. There was a sitting room with a light brown suede sofa and glass coffee table, a flat-screen TV on one wall, a mini-fridge and wet bar in the corner by the windows, and an oak writing desk with a comfortable chair. He set his laptop up there and turned it on, eager to do more homework on his surroundings and the Harrisons.

  He’d decided just to tell them the truth. Charles was too vulnerable and too decent for Nick to hide this from him. The guy was clearly wrung out about his son, and had extended courteous generosity to Nick without hesitation. He didn’t want to repay that by holding back the truth for too long and having it misconstrued.

  But going into the lion’s den tonight had his nerves tingling, and the best way to counteract that was to be as prepared as possible. Since he had no idea what to expect once he told them all the truth about who he was, he at least wanted to stockpile more information on each sibling, and the old man himself.

  Nick didn’t want anything from the Harrisons. He sure as hell didn’t want anything from his bio dad; even Charles himself had called the old man a shark. Nick was just there to help the kid. Being up-front from the start was the only way to try to prove his intentions were good.

  But it’d still probably blow the roof off the place.

  He dragged his suitcase and duffel bag into the bedroom. “Not too shabby,” he murmured as he took in the modern, swanky décor. The lamps on both nightstands offered low light, and the king-sized bed had a dark oak headboard, draped in cream and burgundy sheets with several large pillows. He wanted nothing more than to sink into the bed, but he had a personal rule about his clothes—once he went through an airport and on a plane, the clothes had to be discarded as soon as possible. Germ city. A shower would be good too. But adrenaline was surging through him; now that he was actually on Long Island and had met one of his half siblings, he was wired. What he really wanted was to go for a workout. He went to the nightstand to look at the pamphlets. “Yes!” he said, happy to see there was a gym on the main floor of the four-floor hotel.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was jogging on the treadmill. After the workout, he’d shower, relax, watch something mindless on TV . . . then head to Charles’s house for dinner.

  He wondered what his other half siblings were like. So far, he had to admit, he liked Charles. And Charles had dryly alluded to the fact that the other two brothers were more fun than he was. Nick knew the basics by heart already. Dane, the middle brother, didn’t work for the family company but had struck out and made his own sizable fortune. He owned twenty hotels across North America and was married to a singer who worked in one of his two Manhattan hotels. Pierce was the former pro soccer player who now was invested in New York’s professional soccer team, married with two kids. Maybe they were more “fun” than Charles because they weren’t running an international conglomerate? Maybe it was simply because they didn’t have a critically ill child on their hands? Who knew. Nick would soon find out.

  As for the one sister, Tess, she was a powerhouse of her own. Stunningly beautiful, she wasn’t some empty-headed socialite; she ran the Harrison family’s massive non-profit organization, and hobnobbed with all sorts of celebrities and esteemed people at the tops of their fields as a means to help get funds for the many charities she supported. She was married and had kids too, three of them.

  As far as Nick was concerned, his new siblings were all fairly impressive . . . at least on paper. He just hoped they weren’t assholes in person.

  And those four siblings all looked so much alike, it was uncanny. Dark, unruly hair, fair skinned, tall, with the same bright blue eyes. Apparently, they’d gotten the tall gene from the Harrison side, but their faces from their mother’s side—they were practically clones of the former B-list movie star. And like many old-money families, their ethnic background seemed to be a strong English and German mix. It helped explain why, as a kid, Nick could think of himself as possibly Irish, like Lew’s family. Now he snorted. Wait until these people got a load of their Latino half brother.

  As much as he wanted to get back on the Internet and do extra digging, he needed to burn off the adrenaline more. He ran for forty-five minutes before turning to the weight machines. Maybe if he exhausted his body, it’d help ease his mind.

  But an hour later, after he’d returned to his room, showered, and collapsed onto the plush bed, his mind was still churning away.

  How the hell was he supposed to tell them what he’d only found out himself a few days ago? He hadn’t wanted to believe his own mother, so why should they believe him?

  They likely wouldn’t. He knew that, and was expecting pushback when he dropped the bomb. But the only reason he was even there in the first place was because he was a match for Myles. Wasn’t that kind of proof enough? Sure, he’d go through further testing if they wanted more irrefutable proof of Maria’s story, and frankly, he should. The story was an unbelievable one.

  But as much as Maria’s confession had thrown his world into chaos, Nick knew one thing beyond the shadow of a doubt: she’d told him the truth. Yes, she’d lied to him about it his whole life, but he knew his mother was an honest, ethical person in all other aspects. She had nothing to gain and everything to lose by telling him the truth now, and she’d done it anyway. He was furious, but he did believe her.

  His new siblings . . . well, they probably wouldn’t. But he had to tell them anyway. He kept seeing the genuine appreciation in Charles’s eyes when they’d parted ways in the hotel lobby, and knew he didn’t want to lie to that man. Hell, even if he did, Charles had warned him flat out, in his subtle, urbane way, that he wasn’t a man to be crossed . . . and Nick believed that. The Harrisons had power that he didn’t. All he had was the truth.

  * * *

  The drive from the hotel in Great Neck to Sandy Point, where Charles and his family lived, was only fifteen minutes. Nick wished it’d been longer. The sleek white Porsche was downright orgasmic to drive, and he wanted to really let her fly. Tomorrow, after his workout and before the doctor appointment, he’d find a parkway and go for a drive. That was all there was to it; it had to be done.

  As the GPS told him where to turn and he made his way into Charles’s neighborhood, he whistled low. It was all private streets, gates, and huge mansions. Lots of old trees, and lots of land. This part of the town was big-time, old-world money.

  Nick was grateful that the GPS kept telling him where to turn, because the tremendous estates didn’t have house numbers. When he turned onto Charles’s road, there wasn’t even a post with street names. Just a sign that said PRIVATE PROPERTY and a huge iron gate. Nick glanced up, saw the camera aimed at the entrance, and gave it a jaunty wave. The gates immediately opened. Nice to know he’d made the list.

  A long dirt path beneath a canopy of trees opened up to . . . holy shit,
a full-out mansion. It looked like it belonged in a movie. A giant brick mansion, majestic and imposing. There were several cars in the large space Nick supposed they thought of as a driveway, and he pulled into the farthest spot. There was a Mercedes SUV, a BMW minivan, a Range Rover Evoque, an Escalade, a sweet silver BMW i8 . . . and a Toyota Corolla and an older Honda Civic. They stood out; Nick figured they belonged to people who worked there. Because hell yes, a place like this had a household staff.

  He cut the engine and stepped out of the car, walking slowly as he took in his surroundings. Many trees, stylized landscaping, early spring flowers . . . lots of land for a private home. A gust of wind brought the scent of water nearby, and Nick remembered Charles’s property was right on the Long Island Sound. Stiller water than an ocean, the smell on the breeze that ruffled his close-cropped hair was strong. He was grateful for the dark gray leather jacket he’d thought to bring; this New York spring weather wasn’t what he was used to. He’d been chilled since he’d gotten there. He hadn’t known what to wear to this gathering, so he’d settled on a plain white button-down and jeans. Now he zipped up the jacket and shoved his hands into the pockets as the wind blew and he walked closer, then up the grand front steps. He drew a few deep breaths before ringing the doorbell. Here we go . . .

  The ornately carved wooden door opened to reveal a short woman in a wine-colored tunic and black leggings. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail that trailed halfway down her back. She wore no makeup, but she didn’t need it; her olive skin was flawless and her big, dark eyes were gorgeous. Nick surmised she wasn’t one of his siblings. “Are you Nick?” she asked kindly.

  “I am,” he answered. “Guess that means I’m in the right place.”

  “Oh, you are, you are,” she assured him, taking him by the elbow and pulling him inside. “I’m Lisette Harrison,” she said. “Charles’s wife, and Myles’s stepmother. I’m so thrilled to meet you in person. Thank you for coming tonight. Thank you for coming at all. We’re just so grateful.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He shook her hand and smiled down at her. His instincts immediately told him this was a gentle soul standing before him. And though she was poised, even refined, he could just tell she was more like him than them—as in, she hadn’t been raised with money and came from a normal background.

  He remembered now: Charles had pulled the biggest cliché in the billionaire handbook: he’d fallen in love with his kids’ nanny. This gorgeous, elegant lady had been the nanny? Though Nick knew full well a first impression was only on the surface, his gut told him this woman was down to earth and kind. Add to that she was so pretty, Nick could understand how Charles had fallen for her. She took his jacket from him and brought him further inside.

  Nick had to admit, their home was striking. The furnishings and décor were elegant and understated, yet somehow still dripped with wealth. But the mansion felt like a home, not a museum. It was . . . welcoming. He suspected, as Lisette made small talk, that it was likely her doing.

  “The rest of the family is in the living room,” she said as they left the foyer and entered the front room, referring to the loud cacophony of voices that floated from down the long hallway. “But you should go see Myles first. He’s upstairs in his room.”

  Nick’s brows furrowed. “Not with the family? Is he . . . ?”

  “He’s all right,” she said quickly, and reached to fidget with a long lock of hair from her ponytail. “But with all his younger cousins here, it’s just . . . well, kids carry colds and a lot of germs, and his immune system is pretty shot. We’re trying to keep him as strong and healthy as we can before the transplant.” Her small fingers twisted the lock of hair tighter. “Which, of course, we’re hoping will happen, but—”

  “Listen.” He stopped her with a soft hand on her forearm, and she blinked up at him. “Like I told your husband, I hope this works too. My first doctor’s appointment is tomorrow. We’ll see what they say and take it from there, right? That’s all we can do right now. But I’m in. And I’ll do whatever they need me to do.”

  Her wide brown eyes got glassy. “Thank you so much for your kindness.”

  Ah, hell. This woman could tear the guts out of anyone. He tried to smile. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “You’re here. And you’re being incredibly magnanimous to a family that you don’t even know. That’s enough.” She sniffed back her tears willfully. “I’m a very emotional person. I cry easily. Don’t be scared.”

  Nick chuckled. “I don’t scare easily. No worries.”

  “Well, you’re a police officer, so I would imagine that’s true. Good thing.” She gestured to the grand staircase. “Charles is with Myles now. Myles is waiting for you. He’s excited. Why don’t we go up so you can see him before dinner?”

  Nick read between the lines: go see Myles before being exposed to everyone’s germs. “Whatever you want.”

  They went up the wide spiral staircase as Nick glanced around. His heart rate was definitely up, and his nerves jangled like live wires. He was in his newfound brother’s home, about to meet his entire family. It was hard to wrap his head around that. But most important of all, he was about to meet the kid who mattered most. The reason he’d even found the unknown connection at all . . . this poor, sick twelve-year-old kid. Nick braced himself, not knowing what to expect.

  He followed Lisette halfway down the plushly carpeted hall before she stopped and knocked on a door.

  “Come on in,” Charles called from the other side.

  Lisette opened the door and peeked her head inside. “Myles. He’s here. You ready, sweetheart?”

  Nick ran a quick hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and followed Lisette into the room.

  The room was spacious, with pale blue walls, a huge flat-screen TV on the wall, and a large bay window that looked out to the massive backyard and the Long Island Sound beyond it. And in the full-size bed was a pale, skinny boy with his father’s big blue eyes. His head was covered with a Yankees cap, and he smiled up at Nick like he was a celebrity or something. “Hi,” he said shyly, sitting up straighter against the pillows propped behind him.

  “Hey there.” Nick stepped farther inside. His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat, but he stayed cool on the outside. “You must be Myles.”

  “The being-in-bed part gives me away, right?” the boy quipped, the smile never leaving his face.

  Nick shrugged and joked back, “Well, it was your mom who gave it away, really, when she, y’know . . . said your name and all.”

  Myles’s smile went wider.

  “Good to see you again, Nick.” Charles rose from the bedside chair and went to shake his hand. The expensive suit was gone, replaced by a black pullover sweater and khakis. “You found it here okay? GPS didn’t steer you wrong?”

  “No problem,” Nick said.

  “How’d the car handle?” Charles asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

  Nick snorted. “Like a dream. Your attempt at bribery is well appreciated.”

  Charles laughed at that, then reached a hand out to grasp Lisette’s and pull her into his side. She immediately wrapped her arms around his waist and he dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. This was a tight, loving couple. Nick was glad to see that. A lot of times, a sick relative could tear a couple apart.

  “Excuse me,” said a female voice. Nick’s head swiveled. He’d been so focused on the boy in the bed, he hadn’t realized someone else was there. A gorgeous woman, with dark honey hair, sky-blue eyes, and a sweet smile. Dressed in light blue scrubs, she approached him from the corner of the room, holding things. Nick blinked. She was beautiful . . . but a beautiful blonde. Couldn’t be a Harrison, then. Who was she?

  “Sorry, but I have to ask you to use these before you get closer to him.” She held a white surgical mask in one hand and a bottle of antiseptic hand sanitizer in the other. She offered another smile as she opened the plastic bottle cap.

  Something pinged deep in
his chest as he looked at her. What the . . . it was like the air around him went wavy, even crackled with something like electricity. Finally, he blinked and cleared his throat. “Um, sure. Whatever you say.”

  “Well, you traveled today, right?” she said. “So many germs in air travel . . .”

  “Right. Of course. Sure.” He took the mask from her, and when their fingers brushed, he felt a jolt shoot up his arm. He almost shivered from it. Get a grip, dude. “I showered when I got to the hotel, though. Hope that helps?” He looked into her eyes.

  “It does. But still.” She met his gaze and a light blush colored her cheeks. Maybe he hadn’t been the only one who’d felt that jolt. He couldn’t stop staring at her. What the hell was that about?

  “This is Amanda,” Lisette said, jarring him from his momentary daze. “She’s one of Myles’s private nurses. She’s amazing.” Lisette dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “She’s also his favorite on the whole team, but don’t tell anyone.”

  Amanda smiled at the compliment, winked down at Myles, then squirted some gel into Nick’s open palm. He rubbed his hands together, making sure to cover all his skin, but his eyes were glued to Amanda. He’d dated many women. He’d seen tons of gorgeous women . . . but never had one given him such a deep, visceral smack of an instant reaction. Holy shit.

  He didn’t believe in love at first sight. But a . . . click, some kind of recognition, at first sight? Yeah, maybe. Nick felt something, he couldn’t deny it. It was bizarre....

  Then he almost grunted at himself out loud. This whole situation was messing with his head. He was losing his damn mind. He had to pull himself together.