She shrugged. “For making me feel better. Now let’s go home and I’ll make you feel good.”
His cock stiffened in response. The things this woman did to him, mentally and physically, defied anything he’d felt before. Grasping her hand, he said, “Lead the way,” and tugged her toward the car.
Sixteen
The next morning, Sam found himself driving to New York City. On the ride there, Nicole had been eerily silent, keeping her own counsel, withdrawn into herself. Sam guessed she wasn’t comfortable bringing him to meet with her father, but he wasn’t letting her go through this alone.
He pulled up to an expensive building on Manhattan’s east side. Though out of his element, he refused to be intimidated by her parents’ wealth. She was what mattered, not her folks.
“I thought you grew up in a house?” Sam asked, indulging his curiosity as the valet opened her car door.
“I did. On Long Island. My parents still own it, but they also have an apartment in Manhattan, and my father stays here more often than not.”
They climbed out of the car and Sam met her by the large revolving door to the building. “Is your mother here too?” He wanted a heads-up on whom he’d be meeting.
> Her sigh answered his question.
He didn’t expect her to elaborate and was surprised when she did.
“Mom’s at the house on Long Island. A testament to what does love have to do with anything,” she said without meeting his gaze.
Sam winced, recalling that she’d told him her mother had used that line to try to persuade her to marry Tyler.
“My father is always here on Sunday night, so I figured I’d catch him before he goes into the office this morning,” Nicole explained.
“Hence the six A.M. wake-up call,” Sam said, covering his yawn with one hand.
She shrugged. “I wanted to get this over with.”
Sam grasped Nicole’s hand as they walked into the luxury building. Ignoring the mirrors surrounding her, she headed straight for the bank of elevators.
“Still want to do this?” he asked.
She didn’t answer right away, waiting until they were in the elevator, the doors closing behind them. “No,” she said, as the elevator took them skyward to the penthouse. “But I have to. It’s the right thing to do.”
“I admire that about you,” he said.
She leaned against the wall and treated him to a forced smile. “Thank you.”
The doors opened wide and her father, dressed in what had to be a thousand-dollar suit, greeted her in the doorway of the apartment.
“The doorman called up,” he said, answering her unasked question. “To what do I owe this early-morning visit?”
No hello. No warm welcome. No hug. For the love of—
“Can we come in?” Nicole asked. “I don’t think you want your neighbors overhearing what I have to say,” she continued, unperturbed by the greeting or lack of.
Her father stepped aside and Sam followed Nicole past him into the apartment. A glance revealed that the floors were marble, the walls were adorned with thick crown moldings, top and bottom, and the décor oozed wealth. Sam didn’t like it here worth a damn.
He noted her father hadn’t batted an eyelash at Sam’s presence, nor had he introduced himself. Just because they were wealthy self-righteous pricks didn’t mean he had to be. His mother had raised him better.
“Sam Marsden,” he said, extending his hand toward the other man.
“Sorry.” Nicole blushed, embarrassed. “Paul Farnsworth, this is Detective Sam Marsden. Sam, this is my father.”
“Nice to meet you, Detective.” The older man took his hand in a firm grip. “So to what do I owe this visit?”
Nicole drew a deep breath. “Is everything okay with your business?”