Once again, people rose to their feet and clapped. The applause was louder than it’d been before, so loud I wouldn’t be able to hear words spoken directly into my ear. I got to my feet and clapped as I watched him move through the crowd, watched him come closer to me, watched him carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. I’d never had a favorite client, but I did have my least favorite ones. But now I knew he was my favorite, the one I looked forward to seeing the most, the one I wanted to help the most.
The one I cared about the most.
It was a quiet ride home.
He left the award in the empty seat between us, his hands on his thighs again, his gaze directed out the window.
I grabbed it and examined it, seeing his name on the base. My thumb brushed across the elegant statue, feeling the grooves of his name engraved into the material. “You were great up there.” I returned the statue to the leather seat between us.
He kept his gaze out the window.
“Did you make up most of that on the spot?”
He turned his head toward me, widening his knees a little farther, his muscular thighs long and toned. “Yes.”
“You made my speech better.”
“You made mine better first.”
A slight smile moved onto my lips. “I’m sorry about your father.”
His eyes softened slowly, as if the mention of the subject still bothered him. “It gets a little easier in time, but it’s the kind of wound that just won’t heal. Sometimes it scabs over, but then a memory will pop into my head, and I’ll pick at it…and bleed all over again.”
That was the best analogy for grief I’d ever heard.
“How’s your mother?”
He dropped his gaze again. “She’s okay, but she’s never really been the same. My parents were together since they were teenagers. If he hadn’t passed away so young, she probably would have passed away shortly afterward.”
From a broken heart. “Is she in California?”
He nodded. “But since my brother is moving out here, she’s coming too.”
“Well, that’s nice.”
“Yeah…but then Derek won’t have any family from my side there.”
I had to get Valerie out here. I’d tried to persuade her first, but if that didn’t work, I’d pull out the big guns.
He faced forward again. “You made that whole thing a lot easier…” He never actually said thank you. He said it in his speech, but never in any other scenario. “I’m glad you gave up your Friday night.”
I’d just be home eating a frozen burrito. “I didn’t mind. I’m happy to support you.”
“I’m surprised you knew who everyone was.”
“Because I do my research.” I’d figured out who was going to be there, so I had something to discuss with everyone. It allowed me to fit in pretty quickly.
“Yeah…guess so.” A slight smile crept over his lips.
It was the first time I’d ever seen him smile…or show a form of a smile.
He looked even more handsome.
He turned away and glanced out the window again. “I can drop you off on the way.”
I didn’t let anyone see my apartment or know my address. It was just a good way to keep some distance. But I didn’t care if Deacon knew. “Thanks.” I gave the driver my address. “He can drop me off after you.” I didn’t want Deacon to be out later than necessary because of me. Traffic was bad right now.
“It’s fine,” he said as he looked out the window.
The driver pulled up to my building minutes later, which was a dump compared to Deacon’s luxurious lifestyle. I wasn’t ashamed of what I had because I worked for every dollar, and I still had more than most people in Manhattan. I could afford a one-bedroom without roommates, with a full kitchen and my own washer and dryer. And I lived in a nice neighborhood.
So…I considered myself pretty damn well off.
I turned to Deacon. “I’ll see you—”
He got out of the car.
I’d expected him to sit there and pull away the second I was on the sidewalk. I got out on the other side.
Deacon stood with his hands in his pockets, looking up and down the sidewalk to check our surroundings. Then he turned to me.
I stepped onto the sidewalk and expected to say goodbye there. “Well, I’ll see you on Monday.”
He stared at me for a few seconds before he turned to the entryway.
“What are you doing?”
He opened the door for me. “Walking you to your door.”
It was sweet, really sweet coming from him, but he was my client and I was working. He didn’t need to take any time out of his life to do that for me. “Thank you, but I’m fine. It’s been a long night, so you should get home.”
He continued to hold the door open while he stared.
Instead of arguing, I just rolled with it. I went inside, took the elevator with him to my floor, and then walked to my front door.
He stood next to me with his hands in his pockets, watching me fish my keys out of my clutch.
I got the door unlocked but kept it shut, so he wouldn’t see the pigsty inside. “Thank you for walking me, Deacon. Goodnight.”
He stared at me for a few seconds before he walked off, going back the way he came.
I did something I shouldn’t, something really unprofessional, and I turned to watch him walk away, watched his broad shoulders shift as he moved, watched his strong back remain rigid as he carried himself, watched his powerful arms swing back and forth as he moved.
And I stared at his ass.
Ten
Deacon
“This whole room is mine?” Tucker asked incredulously. He looked around the bedroom—the king-sized bed, the large TV on the wall, the walk-in closet, and the private bathroom. “This is bigger than the average apartment—and you don’t even use it.”
I stood in the doorway, bored by this conversation.
He walked around and came back to me. “Now I understand why you gave me a deadline.”
“And you better keep it.” I turned around and left the bedroom so he could get settled. I returned to the living room and headed to the dining room, prepared to sit down and get back to work.
Then a knock sounded on the door.
It had to be Cleo. I didn’t have any friends, and no one at work knew my address. “Come in.”
She used her key to get inside. She was in her usual pencil skirt and blouse, her hair in curls down her front. When she’d worn that purple dress the other night, I had to do a double take. Her legs were beautiful in that short dress, tanned and toned, and the rest of her frame was eye-catching. She looked like the women I saw in the bar.
Better than them, actually.
She had a few brown paper bags filled with groceries. “I just wanted to drop these off.”
I nodded to the kitchen.
She carried everything inside and started to put things away.
I came to her, stopping at the kitchen island as I watched her unload everything. The last time I’d seen her was almost a week ago at the dinner, and she turned a horrible night into a bearable one. She had all the skills I lacked—social ones. She carried on conversations when I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. It just came naturally to her, and she somehow drew everyone’s attention away from me.
It was like she understood exactly what I wanted without having to ask.
“How are you?” She put the carton of orange juice in the fridge then put all the bottles of beer inside.
“Good. You?”
“Good. Is your brother here yet?”
“He’s looking at his room right now.”
She folded up the bag to recycle it then moved to the next one. “How long will he be here?”
“I gave him two weeks.”
She smiled. “Think of it as an opportunity to spend time with your brother. You probably haven’t lived together since you were kids.” She took out more things and put them away in my kitchen.<
br />
I hated being a kid. I was ready to move out when I was twelve.
“He seems nice.”
“He is.” He teased me a lot, but he always had my back.
His voice came from behind me. “Hey, Cleo. Need help with that?”
“No, I got it,” she said with a smile. “It’s nice to see you again, Tucker.” She shook his hand before she turned around and put a box of rice in the cabinet.
Tucker gawked at her ass and turned to me, shoving his fist into his mouth as he pointed at her, like he couldn’t believe how hot she was.
I sent him a furious stare.
When she turned back around, Tucker behaved normally.
She faced me at the kitchen island, her blue eyes innately kind, her small stature authoritative. “Text me if you need anything else. I’m always here to help.”
I nodded to her.
“Have a good night.” She gave my brother a polite smile before she walked out.
The second she was gone, Tucker turned on me. “She has the nicest ass I’ve ever seen—”
“Stop it.” I held up my hand, struggling to get the words out, struggling to explain the way I felt about his behavior. When he checked out the waitress at the bar, I didn’t care. But when he did it with Cleo, it was so disrespectful. She wasn’t some piece of ass in a bar. She was a person—a good fucking person.
Tucker’s eyes narrowed on my face, knowing I was struggling to say what I thought.
“Don’t talk about her like that. I don’t care that you think she’s hot, but stop objectifying her every time she steps into my goddamn apartment. Stop talking about her ass, don’t you dare talk about her tits. Otherwise, you can find another fucking place to live.” I opened the fridge, grabbed a beer, and twisted off the cap, and walked to the dining table where my work waited for me. I fell into the chair and focused on my work as if that conversation never happened. It was forgotten the second I was finished.
Tucker joined me, sitting in the chair Cleo usually sat in. “I never would have said that stuff if you’d just told me you liked her—”
“I don’t like her.” I kept looking at my data.
“Deacon, come on.” He grabbed my laptop and pushed it shut.
I turned to him, already hating this new living situation. “I don’t. But…I care about her. She’s my friend, I guess.”
Tucker continued to stare at me, his arms across his chest. “Is that really how you feel?”
“I said that was how I felt, didn’t I?” I drank from my beer.
Instead of reading between the lines, he accepted what I said, knowing I meant everything literally. “I’m sorry I offended you, man. I just haven’t seen a woman that…”
My eyes narrowed.
“Attractive…in a long time. Come on, she’s stunning. I don’t know why she’s waiting on an asshole like you when she could be modeling lingerie or something.”
I began to realize Cleo was more than I assumed she would be. She’d proven me wrong many times, getting stuff done without making a mistake, performing other tasks that weren’t part of her job criteria. She had the kind of emotional intelligence that I didn’t have, stuff I’d read about in textbooks. We were completely opposite, but she didn’t make me feel opposite.
“Would it really be the end of the world if I asked her out?”
I opened my laptop again.
He slammed his hand down.
I turned to him, fury in my gaze. “Touch my laptop again, and your ass is on the street.”
He pulled his hand away.
I opened the lid.
“Maybe if you paid attention to the person speaking to you, that wouldn’t happen.”
Cleo never did that. She never even acted annoyed—as if she didn’t take my behavior personally.
“So, is it cool with you if I ask her out?”
“Why are you asking my permission?”
“Because you’re protective of her like a watchdog.”
I was not protective of her. She seemed like a woman who could take care of herself.
“Is that a yes?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Tucker. There are a lot of beautiful women in Manhattan. Forget about her.”
He shook his head. “Seeing her dressed like… I mean…that’s hard to do.”
“She probably has a boyfriend.”
“Could you ask?”
I set my beer down. “I’m not going to ask her that.”
“Why? You just said you’re friends.”
“But I don’t ask her stuff like that.”
“Do you ask her anything at all?”
I was quiet, because I realized I’d never asked her a single personal question, hadn’t even asked how her day was. I just issued orders and watched her take care of me without any regard for herself.
“I’ll feel her out over the next few weeks. If I feel like she’s into me, I’ll ask her out.”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So, no, I can’t ask her out? Make up your mind, Deacon.”
“If you’re going to do the same shit you do at the bar, then no.”
“You mean, ask a woman for consensual sex?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes. If she’s just a piece of ass, then no. If you actually like her…that’s different.”
“Not protective at all…” he said sarcastically.
“I see her almost every day. I don’t want you to do something to make it weird. I need her.”
“Men and women hook up and move on all the time. It’s not weird.”
“Just drop it, Tucker.” I raised my hand to shut him up.
He fell silent, but his eyes were annoyed with my decision. After a long stretch of silence, he changed the subject. “You want to go out tonight?”
I assumed he meant to a bar to pick up women. “You don’t think that will be weird?”
“Our bedrooms are nowhere near each other. You think we can both go two weeks without getting laid?”
Now that I was getting sex on a regular basis, I didn’t want to stop. It lowered my stress, helped me sleep at night, satisfied a biological component that I couldn’t delete. I didn’t need socializing, but I still needed sex. “Just let me finish this up. Then we’ll go.”
Eleven
Cleo
The next week was hectic.
All my clients were in residence, and they all seemed to need something, from repairs to their chipped counters, fresh flowers because the ones I delivered just a few days ago had wilted, or needed extra groceries because they were having people over for apps and drinks.
I almost forgot to deliver Deacon’s dry cleaning and his packages.
I unlocked the door and let myself inside, knowing he wasn’t home from work yet. I kicked the door shut behind me and carried the packages to the dining table. He seemed to get a lot of paperwork delivered from his office, which was odd because he seemed like the kind of person who would prefer paperless communication, unless they were really important documents.
He also had a lot of bills, trivial stuff like cable, phone service, and health insurance. I always had to remind him to pay them because he got sidetracked with his work and forgot about it. Last month, he got a nasty letter from his healthcare provider, saying they would drop him from his plan unless he paid the missed bill, along with a penalty fee.
I’d ask him again if I could pay his bills. I did it with other clients, used a checkbook they gave me for a separate account so I could write everything out and send off the bills, thus keeping their primary accounts private. The clients didn’t even have to worry about it. I wanted Deacon to have the same luxury. Now that he was more comfortable around me, maybe he would accept my help.
“What a nice surprise.”
I nearly jumped ten feet into the air at the sound of the man’s voice.
I dropped the dry cleaning and gripped my chest, letting out a quiet yelp like a frightened dog.
“Sorry, Cleo,” Tu
cker said with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He emerged from the kitchen, holding a paper plate with a sandwich he’d made. He set it on the dining table, wearing nothing but his sweatpants. The upper part of his body was completely bare, showing off a ripped physique similar to his brother’s.
I was mortified. “No, I’m sorry.” I averted my gaze immediately, infringing on his privacy when I had no right. “That was my mistake. I forgot you had moved in with Deacon. That was so stupid of me.” It had completely slipped my mind even though I’d dropped off the groceries just days ago.
“Whoa, it’s okay. Not a big deal.” He took a seat at the table, a glass of water beside him.
I picked up the dry cleaning from the floor, straightening the clothes underneath the plastic cover. “Just let me put this in his closet, and I’ll disappear.” I walked down the hallway and entered his bedroom. A bright red thong was on the floor, like he’d had someone sleep over the night before…and she forgot her panties.
How did you just forget your underwear?
What was her plan? To come back and ask for them?
I hung up his clothes then returned down the hallway, where his nearly naked brother was still eating.
He took a bite and chewed, staring at me with brown eyes similar to Deacon’s. His were a lighter color, as if drops of honey were mixed with the chocolate.
“Is there anything you need before I go, Tucker?” I couldn’t get the sight of the bright red thong out of my mind, just lying on his rug near Deacon’s bed, impossible to miss. The woman who had been here obviously did it on purpose—so he wouldn’t forget about her. I pictured a rude blond bimbo like the last one I saw, and it annoyed me because none of them were good enough for him. I guess they were good enough for a one-night stand…which was probably all he wanted.
The Man Who Has No Soul (Soulless Book 1) Page 10