by Danah Logan
"George is the best at what he does. He started as a P.I. for my grandfather, investigating people that tried to sabotage the business. Over time, he's become my head of security. I needed help when I was discharged from the hospital, with the press, with the business…with life. In the beginning, he only worked for me when I had a specific, uh… need. Over time, he became more. Yes, he is paid for his discretion. Yes, he was following you. No, he wasn’t aware of me planning to bring you back with me. He stayed back to deal with the consequences of my decision. George knows everything I do or have done." Nate emphasizes the last part, and I grasp the meaning.
Oh God, the girls.
I feel sick, but Nate tightens the hold on my arm and keeps talking. "George knows you’re my sister. He’s known for a long time that I have a half-sister." After a pause, he adds, "He’s the one who returns them."
"Why would he let you do it in the first place?" My voice is shrill, bordering on hysterics. Not for me, but for the little girls.
"He doesn’t; he travels a lot. But when he finds out—and since he checks in on me regularly, he always finds out—he steps in. I’ve never harmed any of them, but he also doesn’t just let me…continue. If he could be with me 24/7, he would, but his job requires him to be away a lot. Don’t ask me why he hasn’t handed me over yet. That’s something you have to take up with him."
Nate lets go of me and turns away. I can’t make out his face, but I see his stiff posture and notice he has his arms wrapped around his midsection. His next words are a raspy whisper. "He is the only one I trust to help me make things right. He—" his voice cracks. "He takes care of me."
This grown man in front of me sounds and looks utterly broken. I try to wrap my head around it. When I think he won’t say anything else, he turns back to me. "We said no more secrets; that’s why I am telling you this. I want you to be the one other person in my life I can trust—with everything. Help me make things right."
My eyes widen at his admission.
"I was doing business in Virginia, and Hank, my business partner, was with me most of the time. There was no way for me to check on you on my own, and I wanted to learn as much about you as possible. I asked George for his help. I couldn’t understand how you all of a sudden showed up in California. Why now? Where were you for the past ten years? You had disappeared without a trace, and I’m good at finding things—"
Things. Nate focuses on something in the distance. His tone screams sincerity to me. In these short few days, I’ve seen enough of Nate Hamlin’s different personalities to know his intention was solely to find out as much as he could about me while staying away. It warms me as much as it causes the hair on my arms to stand up.
I focus on something else from his last statement. "Didn’t you say your friend’s name is Todd?" I remember clearly that he called the Asian guy at the gym Todd.
"Hank Todd, yes."
Oh.
"Why did you have to scare me?" The force behind my voice is gone.
"I didn’t see another way to separate you from your friends." He is still looking past me, and the fire ignites again.
"You seem to be a brilliant guy, genius-level smart. Even you should realize that what you did was wrong. You manipulated me. You scared me. YOU TOOK ME AWAY FROM MY FAMILY!" My voice rises with every word until I am screaming at him at the top of my lungs.
"THEY. ARE. NOT. YOUR. FAMILY!" he roars back, his nostrils flared, eyes blazing.
There is the monster.
Any other person seeing this six-foot-three guy would be terrified. He emanates rage. But I am not.
We’re facing off in the middle of the lawn behind the estate, surrounded by a breathtaking landscape, both breathing heavy, eyes locked and unable to move. I have no idea how long the standoff lasts before Nate shoves his hands through his hair and does a one-eighty, turning away from me. Stalking off, he doesn’t take his hands away from his head until he reaches a set of iron patio furniture on the terrace spanning the entire building’s backside. He slumps down in one of the chairs and supports his elbows on his legs, his head still cradled in his hands.
Unsure what to do, I watch Nate for several minutes. When he doesn’t move, I slowly walk toward him and lower myself in the chair opposite him.
"Nate?" I prod. There is a possibility my action will backfire on me.
He inhales deeply before lifting his gaze. Raw anguish fills his eyes, and I suck in a breath.
Who is this man?
"I know there is something wrong with me; I’m not…normal. I probably should’ve never been released from the hospital." He sighs, resigned. "Most of the time, I don’t remember what I did until it is too late—until George steps in. But the voice in my head tells me that this is the only way to not feel lonely for a little while…" He lets the sentence trail off.
"The voice?"
Please don’t tell me you hear voices.
He must’ve seen my bulging eyes, because he huffs out a laugh. "Uh, not the way you’re thinking. I meant it in a figure-of-speech kind of way. I don’t hear actual voices."
"Oh, thank God." A giggled sigh escapes me, and we both smirk at each other until reality sets back in.
"How do you intend this to go?" I gesture back and forth between us. One breath, two, three.
"I have no fucking clue. I haven’t thought that far ahead," he admits.
"Let’s keep talking?" The suggestion is out of my mouth before I can second-guess it.
"You still want to?" He sounds hopeful—like a little boy—and I don’t have the heart to make a sarcastic remark.
I wait for doubt to set in, but it doesn’t come, so I shrug. "I do." And not just because I am stuck here; I want to get to know my half-brother. My chest constricts, unsure how or when that changed.
His head is slightly tilted as if to assess if I’m sincere.
"So…uh, you’re engaged?" I have to start somewhere that doesn’t revolve around our history, and it’s not the time to push the call.
His gaze flickers to the side before it returns to me. "Margot, yes." He has a ghost of a smile on his face.
"Tell me about her," I push further.
"We met about three and a half years ago at a birthday party for Julian’s girlfriend, Celeste—now fiancée. Julian has been my best friend forever, and I used to hang out at their house all the time—it was my time to be me. No past, no Altman Hotels, just me. Anyway, Margot was there with a guy who knew Celeste, and it was obvious she was miserable." Nate chuckles at the memory, and I marvel how natural it, all of a sudden, feels to listen to him talk about his life. He has a best friend and a fiancée.
"The guy started flirting with a waitress, and Margot was about to leave when I intercepted her. She was stunningly beautiful, and I knew who she was. Margot comes from family money, and initially, I was mostly attracted to her because of who she was. She wouldn’t be with me for my money; she has enough of her own. I didn’t have to worry about a secret agenda. And if I’m honest, she made me feel somewhat normal for the first time in years. This was right after—well…"
"Just keep going." I know what he means; I memorized the timeline, but I can’t focus on that. This is a topic for another time. And the time will come sooner than I’d probably like.
"We started going out, and I realized there is more to her. She can be vain and eccentric, don’t get me wrong; she has never worked a day in her life, and she has quirks everyone rolls their eyes at, but she also has a generous heart. She is involved with several non-profit organizations and, despite her wealth, tries to give back in her own way." I want to ask him why she doesn’t make him feel less lonely, but I don’t dare.
"When did you decide that she’s the one?"
My question gives me another chuckle. "Margot made that decision for me. More or less."
My eyebrows narrow.
"I don’t believe in a soulmate; that there is the one. Margot and I work well together."
"I don’t know about that." My thou
ghts immediately wander to my soulmate, as Denielle had put it the day I finally admitted my feelings to myself.
"You’re thinking about Rhys." He doesn’t ask; he has the proof in the form of multiple incriminating photographs to know that Rhys and I are more than adopted siblings.
"Yes," I mumble, heat creeping up my face, and I’m not sure why it all of a sudden embarrasses me.
"I’m sure there are exceptions."
Is he trying to reassure me?
And then he adds, "You’re definitely a better fit than that Katherine girl."
My breath increases, and I scowl at Nate. "You’re the reason for what went down with Katherine at school this week?" I phrase it like a question, though there is no other way for Katherine to have gotten a hold of that photo. I’m sure he hears the warning in my questions.
"Yes." The truth. No matter how awful or painful it has been, he has not lied to me once.
"How?" It comes out as a growl.
He sighs deeply before he reveals that part of the mystery to me. "After you showed up in Santa Rosa, it took me some time to figure out who was with you. If Rhys wouldn’t have introduced himself to Margery, there’s a chance I still wouldn’t know."
"Margery?"
"The nurse who gave you the note."
"Oh—"
How did he find all that out?
"How did I find that out?"
I swear he has a mic implanted in my brain.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"I had a program on the hospital server, monitoring your file."
"Are you some kind of hacker?" I squeak.
That makes him grin proudly. "You could say that. Before everything started, I double-majored in business management, which was non-negotiable in my family, and computer science. Computers were, you could say, my thing. And I kept up with it. It’s a hobby."
"A hobby?" I scoff. "You don’t use a hobby to implant a Trojan horse at a hospital or spy on people by hacking into security cameras." My arms are now crossed tightly over my chest, and Nate narrows his eyebrows.
"How do you know about the security system?"
"You sent a picture from the school’s security camera to me." Duh.
"I did; you’re right." That’s all; he says nothing else to that.
We’re getting sidetracked from the actual topic. "Back to Katherine and what you did…" I leave the sentence hanging, untangle my arms from my chest, and spread them in a gesture for him to continue. I’m angry, and I’m channeling all of it toward the guy across from me. He has manipulated everyone around me to separate me from Rhys. My heart aches thinking of him.
Nate lifts both hands disarmingly. "Okay, first off, all I did was send one picture to her. Something was going on before my, uh…interference. But I have no detailed knowledge about that. Whatever your boyfriend did was not my doing."
I wait for him to elaborate.
"After I found out your new name, I started looking into your friends and family. Heather and Tristen McGuire have done an exhaustive job in hiding you, but some of your friends, especially Katherine—"
"She is not my friend!" I bark.
Nate sighs at my outburst.
"I know she’s not. What I was going to say is that some of the people around you have a very public Internet presence, especially Katherine. It was laughably easy to see what’s important to her. What I didn’t know was that, until recently, you were completely in the dark about your past. All I found was that Rhys was with Katherine for years until he, suddenly, wasn’t. And then George sends me pictures of you and Rhys together, but officially, you are related. My hobby allowed me to find out that Katherine suspected something being off with her breakup and your relationship with your brother. It wasn’t hard to find some evidence that she was paying close attention and also tried to manipulate her ex-boyfriend. But Rhys kept that from you, which worked in my favor. I admit I got impatient; I didn’t plan on being in Virginia that long, and in the end, I decided to fast-track some of the events that probably still would’ve happened eventually. As callous as this Katherine chick is, she is not dumb."
While he was talking, my body started shaking, and I wouldn’t be surprised if steam comes out of my ears. I glower at him until his gaze drops to my hands in my lap. I realize I’ve been fisting the material of my borrowed jacked to the point of ripping the seam of one of the pockets.
"You’re angry."
"You think?" I can’t hide my rage any longer. "YOU. OUTED. ME. TO. THE. ENTIRE. SCHOOL! I’m an incestuous slut for everyone now!"
"Yeah, in hindsight, that was maybe a little overboard," Nate mumbles.
Gaaaahhh! I jump out of my seat and stomp away. "I’m done," I bark, walking toward the house.
"Lilly!"
"WHAT?" I whirl around and see him pointing in the opposite direction.
"Your room is in the east wing." He doesn’t sound patronizing or condescending at all, but I can’t help feeling like an idiot.
"Thanks," I snap and march—now with less dignity—toward the other side of the terrace.
Great.
Chapter Six
I’m sitting in my office, watching Lilly cry into her pillow. It breaks my heart that I caused my little sister so much pain. The recurring doubt I’ve suppressed over the years reverberates in my brain since our earlier conversation. Sometimes, I believe that I should’ve never been discharged—whenever I realize what I’ve done. Again. But I was deemed mentally stable and thrown back into the world. Even after all this time, I see my doctors regularly, which was part of the deal for my discharge/release. They keep changing my meds around every few years to adjust better to my current lifestyle—whatever the fuck that means. If George is not with me, he checks in regularly, and if I don’t answer, he shows up at my doorstep within twenty-four hours, no matter where in the world he his. Could I turn myself in? Sure. But until now, I have been too much of a pussy for that.
Having Lilly here makes me want to be a better person—the best possible version of myself. Sitting across from my sister, who has been through so much—most of it being my fault—I genuinely want to do better—be better. And I will be. I’ll do right by her.
There is still so much I need to tell her, but I understand she needs time, especially after our most recent conversation.
I kill the feed to her room and switch to computer monitoring only. Until she can put her password on the camera, the computer will do its job.
She also hasn’t made any attempt to run since she woke up, and if I’m honest, I’m a little confused by that. She did demand to call the boyfriend. Thinking about that, the big brother in me comes out. I want to ask her how that came to be. First, the guy dates cheerleader Barbie for years; then, he’s with Lilly. I have no right, but I can’t help but feel protective of her.
Lilly has been in her room for two hours, and I’ve been procrastinating, looking at the most recent design update for the new Virginia hotel. Hank has sent five text messages in the last thirty minutes, so I switch the camera in her hallway to movement alert and get to work.
An hour later, my phone rings with an incoming video call, and Margot’s smiling face in a beach chair greets me.
Did she tell me she was taking a trip?
"How are you, sweetheart? I was going to call you later tonight."
"Darling! I’m so glad you answered. Guess where I am?"
Is that a trick question?
"I don’t know. It looks like somewhere warm."
"We’re in San Tropez," she squeals.
France? What the fuck?
"Who is ‘we’? And how did that happen? I thought you’re in LA this week?" I’m slightly confused, which doesn’t happen often. I keep tabs on everything and everyone in my life. I don’t like surprises.
"I was, but Daddy called that he purchased a new yacht and invited me to come out. And since you’re busy and all with your secret project, I figured why not. I brought Celeste with me as a pre-birthday present; i
t’ll be so much fun." She flips the camera to Julian’s fiancée, who waves into the camera from a matching beach chair before I see my fiancée’s face again.
"Uh, that’s great, sweetheart. The two of you will cause havoc with all the French men," I tease. "How long are you gone?"
Meaning, how long do I have until I have to make excuses for not coming back to my house in LA?
"We’ll be back for the party next week."
Party? Motherfucker, I forgot about the birthday party. "Uh."
"Darling? Did you forget Celeste’s party?" she scolds.
Maybe? I’ve had other things on my mind.
"No, not at all."
We talk for a few more minutes before disconnecting. I lean back in my desk chair, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes. FUUUCK!
My two worlds have never overlapped before. There has only been one other since I started seeing Margot. And that was during a low point in our relationship. I was stressed from work and seeing Doctor Stern twice a week while he switched my meds around once again. Margot was pushing for us to set a wedding date, which was the last thing on my mind, so she disappeared to South America for a month.
I need to figure something out before next week.
Chapter Seven
I emerge after I can no longer deny the existence of my growling stomach. The kitchen is empty, and I rifle through the fridge. Pulling out a bunch of random containers, I inspect my haul on the marble counter. The dishes contain cooked pasta, meatballs, sauce, steamed broccoli, more muffins, and some cheese and meats. I also saw eggs and fresh herbs in the fridge. Next, I start my hunt for some cookware and utensils. My eyes briefly stop on the knife block before moving on.
Seeing all the ingredients, the craving for an omelet settles in my mouth. I’ll start with that and then maybe make my way to the pasta and meatballs. I briefly wonder where they came from and if Nate made it?
