Manhattan Millionaire: Book Three in the Kendall Family Series

by Jennifer Ann

  Speaking of Avery, what the fuck was with that kiss she gave me before she got out of the car at the airport? A seal on the promise of her threat? She made my decision to leave her easy to execute, but how am I going to get around losing her father as a partner?

  Sofia skips down the steps before I realize I’ve become immobile with my thoughts. She stops at the bottom, her lips curling on one side when she spots my relatively new Tesla. The purchase wasn’t something I was overly excited about, but Avery insisted that we become environmentally conscious consumers.

  “Oh this has to be you,” Sofia says. Then she holds out her hand. “Give me the keys. I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re in no condition to drive. Drowsy drivers are the worst.”

  “You think you’re ready for New York traffic?” I ask, fishing the car’s fob out of my pocket.

  She lets out a bright laugh that sets my heart racing. “Are you kidding me? I’ve driven all over the country. I can navigate through the worst of traffic like an Earnhardt.”

  “You watch NASCAR?” I ask, holding back a chuckle.

  “One of our biggest clients in Texas owned a racing team, so I was required to attend the Dallas race and met a few of the drivers. Live down south long enough and a little of that lifestyle seeps into your bloodstream whether you want it to or not.” Winking, she holds her hand up higher. “Give me that and I’ll show you my mad skills.”

  Curling my fingers around the fob, I shake my head. “Your choice of verbiage is not inspiring me to hand it over. It’s an eighty thousand dollar car.”

  “Do you truly believe one of the most prestigious firms in the city would hire me if I was in fact reckless?” Rolling her eyes, she snaps her fingers. For the first time I notice that her nails are neatly trimmed with a clear shine instead of colored and thick with polish like Avery’s on any given day. “C’mon, playboy. We’re burning precious daylight.”

  I close the distance between us and set the fob in her hand. “Take us for a ride.”

  When our eyes meet, I somehow know I’m not ready for the kind of ride Sofia Kendall is capable of giving.

  Chapter 4

  SOFIA

  The luxury electric car drives like a dream, and its complex computer system is like something out of a futuristic blockbuster. The overly serious, sexy man at my side doesn’t make the experience seem any more plausible as I take us over the Brooklyn Bridge and navigate through the busy streets of Manhattan. Part of me is tempted to tell Nolan to keep his fucking eyes on the road, while another part enjoys the attention whenever I catch him staring my way. I can’t read the emotion flickering through his eyes and I’m not exactly sure I want to know what’s on his mind.

  As many times as I remind myself that he’s unavailable, I still can’t deny he’s irresistible as hell in the blue button-down stretched across his sculpted chest and the blue jeans that fit to every curve of his tight ass. I was shocked-as-hell to catch the edge of a tattoo peering out beneath his rolled-up sleeve, considering he seems too polished to possess the usual traits of a bad-boy. Normally the idea of ink on a man is a complete turn off to me, but on Nolan Zimmerman…

  “Got it when I was twenty,” he says before swallowing a mouthful of the last muffin. He tugs on the rolled sleeve of his dress shirt until I’m able to see the tattoo in its entirety. “Everyone in my unit got the same tattoo. We had just returned from a year-long tour in Afghanistan. One of the knuckleheads got us in with his cousin who owned a tattoo parlor in downtown San Diego even though it was the middle of the night, and we were hammered.”

  An apology would seem in order for my excessive gawking, but the skull in the middle of the complex design is definitely not something I’d expect to see permanently marking Nolan’s body. Knowing the kind of bravery it takes to be a Marine because of my little brother’s experience makes him that much sexier. When my mind drifts, picturing him in uniform while toting a rather large assault weapon, dark eyes filled with danger and soft lips slanted with a sneer, I stutter on my breath.

  Suddenly I’m extremely aware of our close proximity to each other, the warmth of his body, and the crisp scent of his cologne. I shift my legs to find relief from the tingling electricity stirring between my legs.

  “What possessed the grandson of a multi-millionaire to enlist?” I ask, checking the rear-view mirror before switching lanes to pass a car parked two lanes out from the curb. “No offense, but when I envision Marines, guys like my little brother, Braden, come to mind. He’s incredibly intelligent, but he can be crude and caveman-like at times. He never had an interest in college, and didn’t have any clue what he wanted out of his future. You’re far more reserved and refined.”

  “We aren’t made with a cookie cutter,” he answers among a grunt, dropping his hand from his sleeve to rest on his leg. His hands methodically rub back and forth along his thighs as he looks out the window. “It started as a way to get under my parents’ skin. I knew they’d hate the idea of their son becoming a foul-mouthed killing machine. That kind of shit grates on my mother’s skin. She hates guns and violence. After signing up, I actually looked forward to the idea of a different way of life. And after boot camp, when I was assigned as a sniper, I formed a real camaraderie with the other guys. Suddenly I knew I was right where I was meant to be. The kind of lifestyle I grew up with began to seem ridiculous.”

  “You must not’ve deemed it too ridiculous considering you’re right back where you started,” I answer smartly, motioning to the car’s dashboard as I slow for a red light.

  “It’s different now,” he says, cutting a sharp glance my way that sends shivers down to my tailbone. Guess I deserved that for using a bitchy undertone. “I only keep up appearances to ensure the bar and whatever other business ventures I invest in remain a success. I’m happiest in a T-shirt and jeans with a mug of beer in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other.”

  His confession throws me for another loop. From what I’ve seen up to this point, I would’ve bet my favorite pair of Gucci heels that he thrives on acquiring the finer things in life. For me, wearing designer labels was originally about trying to prove I wasn’t some country bumpkin straight off the Minnesota farm. While my parents had committed to paying for the first four years of college for any of their children, I took law school on as a debt of my own and worked my ass off to also keep up appearances.

  “Purchasing an eighty thousand dollar car simply to ‘keep up with appearances’ seems a little extreme, don’t you think?” I ask.

  “It wasn’t my idea,” he grumbles, seeming unwilling to elaborate.

  Left to assume it has something to do with his girlfriend, I’m in absolute compliance with the spurt of silence. I tap my thumbs on the steering wheel, watching intently as a woman among the crowd of pedestrians ahead of us pushes a stroller across the street while trying to corral another child tugging on her leg. The notion of raising a family seems so foreign at this stage in my life. I’m still struggling to embrace the fact that one of my brothers will be a daddy before long.

  “Sometimes I think I made a mistake by not staying in the Corps,” Nolan blurts. “It feels like I was meant to run my grandmother’s bar, but the rest of my life…I keep thinking one of these days I’ll come across something that just…fits. Something that makes me feel alive and less alone in the world. It’s probably the reason I’m always trying different things, like managing your brother’s fighting career.”

  He definitely does not sound like someone involved in a committed relationship. What does that say about Avery when he’s basically admitting he feels alone and misplaced?

  “Why didn’t you?” I ask, surprised when I don’t push the issue of his girlfriend. “Stay in the Corps, I mean.”

  He releases a weighty sigh as he strokes his dark beard and glances out the window on his side. As amusing as he appeared when I first saw him this morning, hair sticking out every which way, he was also crazy hot. It left me fantasizing about what he’d look like after a
round of wild sex.

  “Being a sniper doesn't exactly involve sunshine and fucking rainbows,” he finally tells me, turning to meet my gaze. His eyes are chillingly dark, sending a shiver down my spine. “I was forced to make a lot of decisions I’m not proud of, and saw a lot of things that still keep me awake at night. After some bad shit went down with one of my buddies, I decided I didn’t have it in me to keep doing that kind of bullshit. When my fifth year was up, I ran the hell out of there.”

  Turning back to watch the road, I grip the steering wheel tightly. Braden was merely stationed in Japan for a time and didn’t have to endure the horrors of war, but I still worried about him every minute he was gone. When I wonder what it must’ve been like for Nolan to lose his Marine brothers, my heart cracks a little.

  “Enough with this heavy crap,” he says, flashing a smile big enough to pop the adorable dimples into his cheek. “Let’s talk about you. Was becoming a lawyer your childhood dream?”

  “Not really. I wasn’t completely sure about my career path until my sophomore year of college. Originally I wanted to become a prosecutor to get dirt-bags off the streets, but I fell into corporate law with the urging of a professor. It can be static at times, but I like the orderliness of it all. Besides, there are too many emotions involved in criminal law. I don’t have it in me to deal with blubbering family members and revengeful witnesses.”

  The moment the words have escaped my lips, I cringe. It doesn’t seem that long ago my family was in court, watching my uncle being prosecuted for the murder of our father. I’m not usually one to cry, but the experience was so emotionally charged that I spent a better part of the trial sobbing in my brother Hunter’s arms. James was lucky the family decided his anger was too out of control at the time for him to be in attendance. I’d do anything to erase the grizzly images submitted as evidence and the shocking testimony of Uncle Orin from my mind.

  “Hey. Are you okay?” Nolan asks, touching my shoulder.

  When I turn to meet his worried gaze, I collect myself and nod. “So where exactly are you taking me?”

  “Thought we’d start in my neighborhood and work our way up toward Chelsea. I have to grab something from my apartment anyway.” He points to the upcoming stoplight. “Hook a right here.”

  “Why don’t you just move to Brooklyn Heights?” I ask, slipping into the turn lane. “James and Evelyn both live in beautiful neighborhoods. Plus it seems logical with the bar being there and everything.”

  “Avery was always insisting that I sell the bar.” His words come out clipped and bitter. With the narrowed gaze he’s casting my way, it’s a no-brainer that’s not anything he’ll concede to anytime soon.

  I take a slow breath, feeling a buzz in my stomach with his intense gaze. “That seems like an unreasonable request considering your history with the place.”

  “It’s another reason why I knew we wouldn’t work out,” he mumbles, swinging his eyes back on the road.

  I can’t help noticing he’s talking about Avery in past tense. There’s a wild fluttering in my chest when I wonder if they continued to fight after she appeared at the bar the night before. What would happen between us if he was single?

  Neither of us says anything more for a few blocks before he tells me to pull into a brick-encased parking garage on a side street. An older, well-dressed man greets us at the gate, opening my door and motioning for me to exit.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” he greets me brightly as I step from the car.

  “Good morning,” I reply with a smile.

  “Jarvis, this is my friend, Sofia Kendall,” Nolan tells him, stepping out from the passenger’s side. “She’s in the process of moving to Manhattan from Texas. I volunteered to help her find the best neighborhood to settle into.”

  Jarvis tips his silver head. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Kendall. Welcome to New York.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine, Jarvis,” I tell him with a friendly smile.

  “Whenever she stops by, send her up to my place,” Nolan instructs the man. “No need to ring me first.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jarvis answers before extending his wrinkled hand out in front of me. “I look forward to seeing more of you around, Miss Kendall, and hope you’ll consider settling somewhere nearby.”

  The open invitation from Nolan causes a warm glow to fill my belly. Does he already picture us as the kind of friends who drop by unannounced to each other’s apartments? What if Avery is there? And what if she isn’t? Can I trust myself to behave when I haven’t had sex in a few months?

  “This way,” Nolan tells me, motioning for me to follow him toward a side door.

  I snap from my fantasy to flash Jarvis a smile before following Nolan to a set of elevators he accesses with a keycard from his wallet. Once we step through the golden doors and feel the ground slipping away beneath our feet, I’m made squeamish by our close proximity and the clean, enticing scent of Nolan’s cologne. In hindsight, agreeing to spend a day alone with him was a bad, bad idea.

  The elevator doors open before the onset of panic can fully kick in, and we pass down a short hallway to a set of ivory double doors.

  “Go ahead,” Nolan tells me once he’s opened the door. I maneuver past him while holding my breath, knowing another whiff of his designer cologne could send me over the edge.

  “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back,” he says behind me, closing the door before starting toward a hallway. When I hear the click of a door and water running a moment later, I take a moment to really assess this beautiful man’s living quarters.

  The open layout is nothing like I had pictured, other than the fact that it’s massive and takes up an entire floor of the building. High ceilings held up by timber columns, exposed brick walls, rustic wooden floors, and glass-encased shelves upon shelves of records lining one wall in the living room remind me of his bar in a way that instantly puts me at ease. The modern lighting gives it a sophisticated touch, while a bicycle propped up against a wall and an antique collection of road signs almost give the impression of something you’d see where I grew up back in rural Minnesota.

  The only things to leave me dumbfounded are the pleated drape curtains covering each window that appear sorely out of place and not at all Nolan’s style. Other than that, it’s warm and masculine without a trace of Avery anywhere. A desire to kick off my boots and sink into one of the brown leather couches facing the record collection while Nolan plays music coils through my core.

  “This place is fantastic!” I say as Nolan returns with a black coat draped over his arm. He heads toward the L-shaped island surrounded by top-end appliances. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Coming up on four years.” He bends for something beneath the countertop before pausing to look over my way. “Would you like something to drink? Water? Soda? Coffee?”

  “I’m good,” I insist, strolling over to the shelves lining the farthest wall back. “How long have you been collecting vinyl records?”

  “Most of them belong to my grandmother,” he explains, his loafers clicking against the hardwood floor behind me. “A majority of which are autographed by the musicians.”

  Whoa. Eyeing the thin spines, some of which have worn down to the white paper beneath, I say, “Her collection must be worth a lot of money. Did she ever consider selling it?”

  “There was no need. Her family founded one of the first casinos in Vegas. She grew up as the only child of one of the wealthiest men in America.”

  “She must have some impressive stories to tell.”

  “At one time…but she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s three years ago,” he tells me. I spin around to face him, feeling my heart crack when seeing the crushed expression creeping across his features. “Now she spends most of her days thinking she’s sixteen. I tried to take care of her on my own for awhile with live-in nurses, but it became a twenty-four hour job even with the extra help. Shar convinced me that she was better off in a facility that offers memory care. At l
east she left a boxful of journals, and I remember a lot of stories she told me when I was growing up.”

  “God, I’m sorry. That can’t be easy.”

  He stiffens and turns away. “It’s not. But I have a plan for her records that I would like to think would make her proud if her mind was still in tact.”

  His back is to me as he moves to a specific shelf to lift one of the glass doors. I shamelessly watch as his bulging muscles contort under his shirt when his arms swing and his ass shifts inside his jeans. I’m nearly caught leering when he hands me a record.

  A shock of sentiment slams into me when I glance down at the 12-inch record he placed in my hands. A signature inked in blue marker covers the famous Micheal Jackson Thriller cover.

  “This was my mom’s favorite album,” I whisper as the annoying threat of tears prickle behind my eyes. “I swear for a solid year she made us listen to the cassette every time we went somewhere in the car. She said it made her nostalgic for her childhood.”

  “Grams told me that he was every bit as weird as people say, but she was always in awe of his talent. I guess a lot of people were.”

  “Shouldn’t something this valuable be better preserved?”

  “I’m in the process of erecting a casino in Vegas with Grams’s name, like her bar. It’ll have a music theme and will feature her collection of records and memorabilia in glass cases throughout the building. Music was her passion and casinos were our family’s bread and butter. Seemed logical to bring the two together in her name.”

  Though it’s touching what he wants to do to honor his grandma, the juvenile, un-lawyer-like side of me wants to giggle when he uses “erecting” in a sentence. Fortunately my professional side takes over as I hand him the record back.

  All at once I’m confused by the sudden urge to wrap him in my arms. Though he seems unaffected and I’m not one to offer physical comfort, I can sense he’s in a lot of pain when talking about her. It was hard enough when my grandparents all died relatively young and my parents went not too long after. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have a loved one tragically confused while still alive.