As if she knew I was staring, she turned back to me.
I didn’t mean to stare as intently as I did, to study her features like data on a spreadsheet. Something about her features stimulated me, gave me a rush of chemicals that was pleasing to my brain.
She held my gaze, like she expected me to say something.
“Your earrings…they’re nice.” I didn’t ask her where she’d gotten them, because that seemed rude, to assume she couldn’t afford them on her own, but I suspected she didn’t have the income to buy diamond earrings like that.
“Oh?” She smiled as she touched one earlobe, feeling the stone with her fingertips. “They were my mother’s. I wear them on special occasions.”
I nodded. “Beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She held up her wrist, showing a white gold bracelet with a few diamonds studded in the chain. “This was hers too. She liked to collect jewelry.”
“Very nice.”
“My dad had a really nice watch, but I can’t wear that…”
She could probably pull it off.
“I thought I would give it to my husband or my son, but I never did. Maybe one day…”
I was glad she didn’t, because he didn’t deserve it.
She played with the bracelet on her wrist. “Tucker and I have been having a good time. He’s funny and sweet. The other day—”
“Is there an update on the cabin?”
She stopped talking, taking a few seconds to close her mouth and change the subject. “The rest of the inspections checked out, not that I’m surprised. So, it looks like we’ll just sign the papers on Monday. You’ll be the proud owner of that beautiful lake house.” If she was offended by the rude way I’d interrupted her, she didn’t show it. “I’m excited to get that place ready for you.”
“I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”
She smiled then looked out the window.
We didn’t talk for the rest of the drive.
We entered the main doors of the hospital, seeing everyone else already gathered there. The ribbon was in place, along with a big red bow. A waiter approached us and handed us two glasses of champagne.
The stuff was shit, but I took it anyway.
The traffic had held us up a bit, but they’d waited until I got there since it would be odd to have the ceremony without my presence.
Cleo stood close to my side, still inches shorter even in her heels. She looked at the large wall facing the tall windows that looked out to the city so the name could be seen from adjacent buildings. It only took her two seconds to release a quiet gasp. “Deacon Hamilton Medical Center…” She turned to me, her eyebrows so high they almost jumped off her face. “They named the hospital after you?” She kept her voice quiet so no one would overhear us.
I drank from my glass.
Her eyes softened, and she gripped my arm to give me an affectionate squeeze. “This is amazing…”
The New York mayor addressed everyone. “Thank you for coming for the ribbon-cutting ceremony. After eighteen months of long hours, the hospital is finally open to our community, giving this neighborhood the quality health care it deserves. When the board of directors was deciding on the name for this new hospital, a few names were suggested, but only one truly stuck out.” He turned to me. “Deacon Hamilton.”
Everyone applauded.
“For all the work he’s done in medicine and clinical research, we’d like to dedicate this hospital to you.”
Everyone continued to applaud—and stare.
The mayor waved me forward. “Let’s do this, Mr. Hamilton.”
I handed Cleo my flute before I joined the mayor at the front of the room. He handed me the large scissors, and I held them against the ribbon as I shook his hand. We both wore smiles as the reporters snapped pictures of us.
Then I cut the ribbon.
Another round of applause sounded, filling the large room with a cacophony of praise. I shook hands with the mayor again, along with the board members who stood behind me. When I walked back to Cleo, she wasn’t applauding like everyone else because of the glasses in her hands, but she gave me a new look of affection I’d never seen. Her eyes were softer than they’d ever been, and there was even a film of moisture there, but not because she was sad…because she was proud.
We were stuck at a round table with socialites and aristocrats who wanted a firsthand account of my research, what I was working on at that very moment. I couldn’t share all the details, but some, so that was easy for me to talk about. “The idea is to put the kind of stress on the right cells. When you expose cancerous cells and healthy cells to radiation, you’re stressing both. But you need healthy cells to fight off the bad ones. It’s like dropping a nuclear bomb on a battlefield—all soldiers will be wiped out, and no one wins the war. But I’m trying to find alternative ways to handicap the cancerous cells while giving the healthy cells an upper hand to do what they do best, to fight the invaders.”
A lot of them nodded even though they didn’t seem to understand what I was saying.
Then they started to ask about my time at Harvard, the way I felt when I received my Nobel Prize, and I began to lose interest. I didn’t care to talk about the past, only the present, what I was currently working on.
Cleo took over, navigating the conversation so all the attention wasn’t just on me.
But one asshole asked about my divorce. “I heard she gutted you bad. I’ve been there.” He patted his chest. “My first wife was bitter, took my Ferrari even though she didn’t even like it, just to spite me.”
All I did was stare.
Cleo interceded. “You know, Deacon has an adorable son named Derek. And he’s sooo cute.”
All the women aww’d.
“Yes,” I said. “He’s the light of my life.” Derek put everything into perspective for me, didn’t make me hate Valerie so much. Half his DNA came from her, so how could I hate the person who put him together? Who gave birth to him?
The questions continued because all they wanted to do was gossip about their failed marriages as well as mine. Cleo couldn’t stop it.
She grabbed my hand on my thigh. “Dance with me.”
A quartet played music, and there were some couples on the dance floor. I wasn’t a fan of dancing, but I knew this was the only way she could spare me from this unbearable conversation.
I got to my feet and walked with her to the dance floor.
She placed one hand on my shoulder and placed her other hand in mine.
I felt odd touching her, like I shouldn’t be allowed to feel, especially a second time in a single day. But my arm wrapped around her waist and my hand planted against her back, right in the deep curve at the bottom of her spine. I started to lead, uncomfortable with her proximity—but not because I didn’t like it…but because I did.
Her face was close to my shoulder, looking past me to the sea of tables.
I pulled her a little closer and guided her back and forth, my fingers appreciating the soft fabric of her dress, appreciating the natural curve of her spine that was optimal for carrying a child. Her perfume was fragrant, like roses after a light rain. Some of her hair brushed against me, soft like I imagined it would be.
I sighed quietly, my fingers throbbing as I held hers.
I didn’t say anything. And it was nice that I didn’t have to say anything. I was the one who guided our dance, but she was the one who guided my life. I didn’t have to dread all the things I hated because she understood what I needed without having to ask. She wasn’t just an assistant. She wasn’t just a concierge. She wasn’t just a friend.
She was something I couldn’t describe.
She made me feel alive and calm at the same time. She made all my nerve endings fire off in interest, entertained me with just her looks, made me feel this weird stitching inside my chest, similar to the way I felt whenever I thought about Derek.
I took another deep breath, hating this, hating that I liked this.
She glanced at
the table. “Looks like they’ve left to mingle. When the song is over, we can probably slip out without anyone noticing.”
I couldn’t wait to leave. I couldn’t wait to be in the car so it would just be the two of us. I couldn’t wait to be in my condo, to be wrapped in the silence. I couldn’t wait to get away from all these people, all these prying eyes, all these incessant questions.
The song came to an end and we stopped moving, but my arm lingered on her back because I didn’t want to pull it away. It was the same difficulty I had when speaking, when I couldn’t force the right words out of my mouth. I couldn’t pull my hand away, like it belonged there, like it was easier to keep it there instead of removing it.
But I dropped my touch and moved back.
“I’ll grab my clutch, and we’ll go.” She took the lead and reached across the table to grab her clutch.
I stared at her ass, watched her dress rise higher as she bent over, showing more of her toned thighs. “Fuck.” I dragged my hand down my face and forced myself to look elsewhere, not to be a perverted creep checking out my assistant like a douchebag. I did those things in bars, but the women were strangers, people I would never see again. They weren’t important to me…they weren’t my friends.
When she grabbed the clutch, she turned back to me. “Let’s go.” She pulled out her phone and texted the driver as we walked out. We made it through the lobby and to the sidewalk, cars passing on the busy street.
It was a cool evening because there was a breeze. Her long hair blew in the wind, bumps forming on her arms. “He’s circling the block.” She returned her phone to her clutch then crossed her arms over her chest.
When I understood she was cold, I let my jacket slide down my arms before I handed it to her.
“You don’t need to do that, Deacon.”
“You’re cold. I’m not. Take it.”
She smiled before she wrapped it around herself.
My hands moved into my pockets, and I stared at her as we waited for the car.
“I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time. I hate it when people do that…turn a conversation into an interrogation.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She apologized for things she couldn’t control.
“I know, but it just annoys me. They treat you like some kind of spectacle, forgetting you’re a human being.”
That was an excellent way to describe it.
“But you did receive such an incredible honor tonight. I can’t blame people for being fascinated with you.”
Impervious to the cold, I continued to stare at her, watching my jacket cover her like a blanket.
“That’s so amazing, Deacon. You have a hospital named after you.”
“Maybe I’ll do my next set of clinical trials there.”
“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “Maybe. Did you tell your mother?”
I shook my head.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said with a chuckle. “You didn’t even tell me.”
“No, I showed you.” That was a higher honor, in my opinion. I could have flown my mother out here to see it, could have taken my brother if I’d wanted to, but I didn’t want to do those things. I wanted to take her.
She inhaled a deep breath, as if she understood everything those words implied. “I feel very lucky, Deacon. It’s been a privilege to have you as a client.”
The car rounded the corner and started to pull up to the curb.
I didn’t look away from her face. “My brother said you told him I was your favorite client.” I didn’t know why I said that. It wasn’t a question. It was just a statement that I wanted her to address.
Her eyes glanced down for a second. “Yeah, I did say that.”
“Why?” I was difficult, impossible to understand sometimes, and I was the worst person to have a conversation with. I wasn’t funny. I didn’t even understand jokes most of the time. Tucker took me to a comedy club once, and while everyone laughed, I just sat there. It was one of the times I’d felt so alone in the world, like I didn’t belong with everyone else. But she never made me feel that way. She was the first person who made me feel connected to another human being…and we weren’t related.
The car was there and the driver had opened the door for her, but he picked up on the intensity of our conversation and got back into the car so we could have our privacy.
She continued to stare at me, her arms across her chest. “All my clients are just clients. I care about them, make their lives easier, do my job. But you’re more than just my client…you’re my friend.”
The car pulled up to her building, and I got out of the car so I could walk her to her door.
She didn’t object this time, probably because it never made a difference anyway.
We took the elevator to her floor and approached her front door.
She slipped the keys into the door and unlocked it, but she made sure the door stayed closed. “Thank you for your jacket.” She switched the clutch between her hands as she got the jacket off her shoulders.
I took the clutch out of her hand to make it easier.
“Thank you.” She slipped it off then took the clutch from me.
I put the jacket back on, adjusting my collared shirt underneath before I looked at her again.
“Well, I had a great time. Thank you for letting me be part of it.”
I should be the one thanking her, but I didn’t have the words.
She didn’t seem to expect anything from me because she smiled. “Goodnight, Deacon.”
“Goodnight, Cleo.” I waited for her to go inside.
She opened the door but kept her body in the crack, like she was trying to hide my view. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
I nodded then got back into the elevator.
When I was back in the car, Tucker texted me.
How’d it go?
Fine.
Really? A hospital was named after you, and it was fine?
It was really fine.
Did you just make a joke? LOL.
I didn’t respond.
You gonna send me that picture?
I opened the photo Anna had taken. I hadn’t had a chance to look at it because there’d been too much going on. But now, I stared at it, saw the way Cleo smiled at the camera, the way her eyes stood out with her bold makeup. The dress would be unflattering on anyone who didn’t have the right figure, but since her body was flawless, she looked incredible. Black was definitely her color, not just because it was my favorite.
I texted him back. I forgot to get one. I lied to my brother and didn’t know why. The only reason I’d asked for the picture in the first place was because he wanted me to. But when I saw us together, I suddenly didn’t want to share it with anybody. It was personal. It was private.
It was mine.
Twenty
Cleo
Deacon knew I was coming, but I knocked on the door anyway.
“It’s open.”
I let myself inside and walked to the dining table where he was sitting. He had a beer sitting in front of him, along with his stacks of paperwork. Saturday was a couple days ago, but it was still fresh in my mind. I went online and found the picture of him cutting the ribbon. I printed it out and framed it, intending to put it in his cabin as a surprise.
Now, whenever I entered the room, he always looked at me, my presence more important than whatever he was working on.
“The notary is outside, along with my client’s banker. I just wanted to give you a moment to get organized.”
He turned back to his papers and sorted them, returning the paper clips to the piles before sliding them into the folders.
I picked them up and carried them into his office. “And I just need your ID.”
He grabbed his wallet off the counter and pulled out the ID before he handed it to me.
I put it on the table and organized my papers. “Ready?”
He took a seat again and nodded.
I returned to the fr
ont door and let them in. “Alright, welcome. Let me introduce you.” I guided the notary to the table. “Debra, this Deacon Hamilton. Deacon, this is the notary who’s going to handle the paperwork.”
He stood up and shook her hand.
“And this is Bart. He’ll be handling the money transfer.”
Deacon shook his hand before he sat down.
“Alright, let’s go to work.” I sat down at the table beside Deacon, directing the meeting so he didn’t have to do much.
I slid the papers toward him that needed to sign, handed him a tissue to wipe off the ink from his thumbprint, and waited until everything was done.
Then Bart took over. “Since this is an all-cash deal, we’ll need the full transfer now.”
Deacon opened his laptop and pulled it toward him, logging in to his bank account.
I could see everything from where I sat, so I picked up the stack of papers and shielded my face, making a divider so he knew I couldn’t see the screen. But I had a feeling he didn’t care. He trusted me that much.
When he was done, he grabbed my arm and gently pulled it down.
I set down the papers again.
Deacon spoke. “It’s complete on my end.”
Bart checked the transaction from his device. “It’s done.”
Deacon closed his laptop.
“We’ll get this filed with the county, and your keys will be delivered by this evening.” Bart and Debra said their goodbyes before they left.
Deacon opened his laptop again, as if he didn’t care about the new purchase at all.
After letting them out, I came back to the table. “I wanted to ask you something.”
He lifted his gaze and ignored the laptop.
“I have a lot of ideas for the cabin.” I set the papers on the table. “I could go through everything with you, but I have a pretty good understanding of your taste and—”
“I trust you.” He didn’t look at the papers on the table. His eyes were on me.
“Really?”
He nodded. “I’m sure I’ll like whatever you add to it.”
The Man Who Has No Soul (Soulless Book 1) Page 19