When the Tide Rolls In [COMPLETED]

Chapter Twenty-One: Mine

After the incident with the omelettes, Nick decided it was best someone from his office went out to get some breakfast for us. Now that it was well past the time for eating such a meal, Nick and I would have to settle for lunch.

"I will be going out to meet up with my father. I've got some other things I need to discuss with him, I'm a busy man," Nick spoke, pulling on his dress shoes.

His torso was now covered and I couldn't decide whether it was good or bad. I was still curled up on the couch, unable to hop very far.

"What do you mean 'busy man'? I'm not that difficult to handle, am I?" I asked, knitting my brows together.

Nick finished putting his shoes on and he stood to his full height. He looked somehow less powerful in a suit than he did in a simple pair of sweatpants.

"You're not the only client this company has, Miss Rogers," he put simply. So we were back to this 'Miss Rogers' crap.

"I told you, just call me 'Samantha'," I said, drawing out my name in hopes he'd understand. Nick raised one eyebrow at me but said nothing.

"Breakfast will be here momentarily," he threw over his shoulder, grabbing his briefcase and running a hand through his hair.

"Can you still least turn the TV on for me?" I asked before he was fully out the door. Nick paused, back rigid as he turned back around.

I scowled at the evil smirk he had plastered across his face and my scowl deepened as he spoke, "You want to watch porn, Miss Rogers? I didn't take you for that kind of girl."

"Turn something else on, Nick!" I shouted, my face undoubtedly fire engine red.

Nick stalked towards me again, the smirk still clearly evident on his face. When he was standing before me, he opened his mouth to say something when the door leading in burst open.

Nick suddenly went from relaxed to on the defense. I heard him sigh after we both realized it was only Conner.

"Nick, your father is beyond angry. How come he didn't know about you taking Samantha's case personally?" Conner asked, releasing a heavy breath.

Nick's hands balled into fists for just a moment before he reached up to run a palm down his cheek.

"I'll take care of this," he murmured, brushing past Conner and slamming the door behind him without saying another word.

Conner and I exchanged worried glances. He cleared his throat, coming to sit beside me on the couch. I looked at Nick's briefcase that he left behind, not bothering to say anything.

"So, I went to your house this morning," Conner began. "It's getting better. The construction crew fixed the whole living room and is now replacing all of the furniture that was harmed. Good thing that weird old armchair got destroyed. Now I can get you... Samantha?"

My grandfather's armchair. Gone. I didn't even realize I was crying until Conner gently scooted closer to me and pulled me into his lap. His thumbs brushed the tears on my cheek away.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked me, concern making his forehead wrinkle.

"That was my grandfather's chair," I choked out, completely letting myself go now. I was sobbing, and Conner hugged my head into his chest. He laid back, gently maneuvering us so he was on his back and I was curled against his chest.

At any other moment I might've be worried at how close we were, but I this amount of caring and human contact made me feel safe. So I stayed quiet and let Conner brush his fingers through my messy hair.