The Boy Who Has No Hope (Soulless Book 6)

by Victoria Quinn

  “No.”

  “Derek—”

  “She called you a bitch.”

  A smile came over her lips. “If someone’s not calling you a bitch, then you’re doing your job wrong.”

  I cocked an eyebrow.

  She gave me a pat on the arm. “I don’t care what she called me, Derek. Water under the bridge.”

  “I care.”

  Her smile faded and her eyes softened. “I know you do, but I still don’t want you to fire her.”

  Anyone else would do a victory dance because their enemy was getting canned, but Emerson had more humanity in a single finger than other people had in their entire bodies. I couldn’t believe I ever gave her a hard time…when she was the best thing that ever happened to me.

  “Please.”

  I stared into those blue eyes and got lost for a moment, got lost in those pools of sincerity. The bad things that had happened to me had turned me into a grizzled and bitter man, but she was like a shiny new penny.

  I walked back outside the office to see Lily standing at her desk, tears falling down her cheeks, all of her belongings thrown into her purse. “Lily.”

  “I’m going.” She sniffled and turned away.

  “Lily.”

  She stopped and faced me, wiping at her tears.

  I still didn’t feel bad for her and would probably never like her after the way she’d spoken of Emerson. I held grudges…when it came to Emerson. “I’m going to reassign you to a different position in the company. Same pay and benefits. Take the day off, and we’ll have a new schedule for you tomorrow.”

  She lifted her gaze and looked at me, her eyes wet but full of gratitude. “Okay…thank you.”

  “But talk about Emerson like that again, and I won’t be so generous next time.”

  She nodded.

  “You can go.”

  She turned around and walked away.

  Emerson came to my side a moment later and watched Lily turn at the end of the hallway. “You did the right thing. And she’ll always be grateful.”

  I started to move forward because we needed to get going. “You did the right thing, Emerson. I would have fired her and not felt bad about it.”

  The guys left at the end of the day, and I stayed behind because I had stuff to do. Emerson had been working for me for a long time, and when I stayed late, she stayed late. She was like another me, just as committed, using her extra time to find something else to work on to make my life more organized.

  She left the lab to grab dinner, and when she came to the table, she had two containers. She sat on the stool across from me and opened the lid of her container, revealing a burger and fries.

  I smiled to myself, thinking about the text message I’d almost sent last night.

  “What?”

  I lifted my gaze and looked at her. “What?”

  She took a bite of a fry. “What are you smiling about?” She ate the rest of her fry and chewed, playfulness in her gaze.

  I stared at her for a while, enjoying the way her eyes lit up like two Halley’s Comets in the sky. The look took me by surprise, because it made me feel like I was with a friend…my closest friend. But she was also the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. “I was craving a burger the other night.”

  “Perfect.” She grabbed another fry. “You have a really nice smile, Derek.”

  I never got that compliment because I hardly ever smiled.

  She wrapped her burger in the napkin and took a bite, a drop of sauce getting in the corner of her mouth just like last time.

  I didn’t point it out to her.

  “I saw that you wrote three thousand words on Saturday. That’s amazing.”

  I opened my container and ate a fry.

  “How did that feel?”

  “Good.”

  “You wrote some very good pages, so I could tell you were really into it.”

  “Yeah, I was.”

  “At this rate, you’re going to be finished in…” She considered the time frame in her head as she ate another fry. “About a week. That’s so exciting. I’ll call Astra Books tomorrow and tell them the good news.”

  I had a feeling they would still be annoyed, since I was still six months late from the initial deadline they’d given me.

  “Then we’ll get started on the next book.”

  “The next book?” I asked incredulously.

  “It’s a series. There’s no way you can wrap up the story in the next fifty pages.”

  “But we have to get to work right away?”

  “Why wouldn’t you? You know how happy your fans will be if they don’t have to wait years for every sequel? And besides, you’ve gotten into the flow of writing again, so would you really want to stop?”

  I considered all of her points valid. “I felt like we really churned this book out, and I guess I don’t want to have the same pressure again.”

  “If you write five thousand words a week, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. And you can do five thousand words so easily. You’re getting so good at this. I guess you don’t need me to come over in the evenings anymore. I bet I could donate that whiteboard to someone.”

  “It would be nice to give you that time off.” Now that I’d gotten back into the driver’s seat, I had control over my writing, knew exactly how I wanted this story to progress. I didn’t need to jog my memory or spend a lot of time thinking.

  “Yeah, but I honestly never minded those writing sessions.” She took another bite of her burger.

  The reason I’d stayed late was because I had stuff to work on, but now that we sat together and had dinner, all those things faded into the background. I was far more interested in her than anything else. “Did you have a good weekend? We’ve been so busy, I haven’t had a chance to ask yet this week.”

  “Yes. I love sleeping in, so Saturdays and Sundays are my favorite.”

  “I can’t imagine you doing that.” She never slacked off, hardly took breaks, and she was always juggling three things at once. I expected her to rise early just to take care of stuff around her apartment.

  “Oh, I love to sleep. I spend those days catching up.” She continued to eat, dunking her fries in her ketchup before picking up her burger again and taking another bite. Whenever we took breaks together, she slackened her posture and relaxed around me, like she was just as comfortable around me as I was around her.

  I’d never been that way with any other coworker, not even Jerome and Pierre. It was ironic, because she didn’t understand my work at all, so we never discussed it, but that didn’t stop me from feeling close to her. “Have any dates lately?” I didn’t know why I allowed the question to leave my lips, when it was none of my business, and her answer would probably make my stomach tighten.

  “No, not lately.” She kept eating, as if the question about her personal life didn’t offend her. “I’ve been so busy that it hasn’t really crossed my mind. My dad is having his surgery next week, so we’ve been preparing for that.”

  Relief filled my throat and dripped all the way down to my stomach. When I saw her on her date, it initially aroused me, but when I played that same scene in my head now…it made me a little nauseated. “On his knee, right?”

  She nodded. “Yep. We’re all very excited about it.”

  “I’m not sure who you’re seeing, but I can make sure he gets the best physician possible.”

  She smiled. “That’s very sweet, Derek, but he’ll be fine. It’s a very simple procedure. It’s a small problem that’s just gotten out of hand over the years. I’m not worried about it. I’m so happy that we’re finally doing something about his situation. There’s always the chance that a surgery could make the problem worse, but since he’s already so sedentary, I feel like the benefits outweigh the risks astronomically. It pains me to say it, but he’s far more likely to die indirectly from his knee if it never improves, because he’s so inactive. We need to get him moving around again.”

  I nodded. “You�
�re absolutely right.”

  “And I’m very close to my parents, so I need them to live as long as possible—even though they drive me crazy sometimes.”

  “I’m sure everything will be fine. Maybe you should take the day off so you can be there with your mom.”

  She stopped eating and turned her gaze back to me. “I was going to ask, actually… That would be okay?”

  “Absolutely.” She worked her ass off for me every single day, logging long hours without complaint, putting up with my bullshit when she shouldn’t have to. “No problem at all.”

  “Well, thank you. It’s next Tuesday.”

  “Alright.”

  She started to eat again.

  “And if you need time off for other things, you can always ask. I know there’s dentist appointments, doctor appointments, personal days… We never really talked about it. And if you want to take a vacation, we can do that too.”

  “I haven’t been on a vacation in….” She chewed the inside of her lip. “Never.”

  I grinned. “And you give me shit about never taking a vacation?”

  “But I’m not a billionaire,” she said with a laugh. “If I were a billionaire, yes, I’d be going to Paradise Island or something.”

  “Well, you should definitely take one sometime.”

  “We’ll see…” She took another bite of her burger than wiped her mouth, getting the sauce stain that had been sitting there for a while. “What about you?”

  I took a bite of my burger, thinking about how my dad never indulged in this sort of thing, and then finished chewing before I responded to her question. “I just said I don’t take vacations.”

  “I meant about your personal life. Have you been on any dates lately?”

  I didn’t want to answer the question, but then I realized I was obligated because I had asked the same question first. “No.”

  “Fleur hasn’t made a return?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fuck no.”

  She chuckled. “Good.”

  “She was my absolute last attempt at a fuck buddy.” I didn’t know why I shared that personal information at that moment, why I just blurted it out when I didn’t think it through. I thought about everything I said before I said it, but with Emerson, I didn’t really think. I just lived in the moment and spoke my mind.

  She held her fry in her hand but didn’t take a bite. “That was, like, two months ago…”

  “Yeah, it was.” I dropped my gaze and fished out a fry from my container. When I went out on Saturday night, a beautiful woman showed me how much she wanted to suck my dick as she made out with the ice cube that had been in my scotch, but I wasn’t even slightly aroused, not tempted at all. If anything, it annoyed me. It was so superficial, this young woman wanting to fuck me because I was a good-looking, rich motherfucker. That used to be hot to me, but in that moment, I’d just wanted to go home.

  Emerson seemed stunned by the revelation. “No attempt to get something started with anyone else?”

  I shook my head and kept looking at my fries as I ate. “No.”

  After a long pause, she took a bite. “We have been really busy lately…”

  “That isn’t why.” Why the fuck am I still talking?

  Now she stared at me, waiting for an elaboration.

  I was put on the spot, obligated to finish the explanation. “I just…haven’t wanted to.”

  Seven

  Emerson

  I sat in his penthouse and got on the phone with Mark.

  When he answered, he was still a bit grumpy, like he still hated me even though I’d quit three months ago. “Emerson, what do you want? If you’re asking to get your job back—”

  “No. I’m Derek Hamilton’s personal assistant now.” And I make bank. Bitch.

  “Oh…then what do you want?”

  “I’ve been helping him finish his novel, editing it along the way. I’ll have it for you in a week. Just wanted to give you the good news over the phone, since the manuscript is so far behind on its deadline.”

  “Very far behind.” He was still bitter, even though I’d just told him I edited the damn thing for free.

  “Anyway, it’s coming, so you can start everything on your end.”

  “I’ll be sending you a press package. I want Hamilton to do a few interviews, book signings, and book launches.”

  “He’s never done that before…”

  “Well, this series has lost a lot of traction since he took his sweet-ass time writing it. We need to get book sales up, get people interested in this series again. You know how many complaints I’ve gotten from readers that this series is taking too long to be finished? Thousands. He’s got to do some damage control.”

  Oh no, Derek was not going to be happy about this. “I don’t think Derek will be comfortable doing that.”

  “That’s too fucking bad. He wants to make things right? He’ll do this.” He hung up on me.

  I tossed the phone back on the table and dragged my hands down my face. “Oh, this is gonna be bad…”

  I purposely waited until Derek finished the book before I broke the bad news. I was afraid he would be so pissed off that he would refuse to finish the novel in retaliation, or just lose all interest in the story.

  He texted me that evening. It’s done.

  I know… I’m reading it now.

  Let me know what you think about the ending.

  I’m sure I’ll love it…because I’m biased.

  You don’t have to like it just because you work for me.

  That’s not why I’m biased. I was biased because I thought he was the greatest writer of our generation. He could shift from sci-fi to the most erotic stories I’d ever read, ones that made me hot under the collar and wet between the legs. I set down the phone and continued to read through his pages.

  He texted me again a few minutes later. Why are you biased?

  I turned back to the phone, wondering if he’d been waiting for an elaboration that entire time. Because I’m your biggest fan. I meant that when I said it.

  He didn’t say anything else.

  I finished the story, and when I did, I released a sigh of satisfaction because it was a good ending. There were a lot of loose ends that made me want to read more, but there was also enough satisfaction from the character progression that I was satisfied. I loved it.

  But you’re biased, right?

  I love your stories, so I know exactly what I want to read…and this is it.

  I texted him before I left my apartment. Do you mind if I stop by?

  Instead of questioning my visit, he was fine with it. No.

  I’ll be there in ten minutes.

  Alright.

  I rode the elevator to his floor then walked down the hallway until I knocked on the door.

  Instead of yelling across the room to tell me to come in, he personally opened the door. He was in a t-shirt and sweatpants, both black, going with the color of his hair, his shadowed jawline. It looked like he’d showered recently because his hair was a little messy. He stared at me for a heartbeat before he stepped aside and let me in.

  I carried my purse into the penthouse and headed to the table, feeling that same energy like the last time I was here with him. We’d sat on the couch together, and I felt as if a magnet were pulling me to him, like our bodies could collide at any second. And then he’d hugged me…and it felt like home.

  He followed me to the dining table and still didn’t ask why I was there. He wasn’t disgruntled by my unexpected visit. He stared at me with an intense gaze that was also slightly subdued, like I had every right to be there and he had no reason to question it. He used to be indifferent to me, but now all of his attention was focused on me nearly all the time, unless he was working.

  I sat down and looked through my purse.

  He sat at the head of the table, his eyes still glued to me.

  “I sent off the edited book to Mark. They’re really happy it’s completed.” I pulled out the stack of har
dbacks I’d brought from my apartment.

  He watched my movements.

  I pushed my purse away and laid out the books so they were visible.

  He stared at them for a while, recognizing his covers, and then flicked up his gaze to look at me.

  “I wanted to ask you to sign them when we first met, but…we didn’t get along that well…”

  He dropped his gaze, as if he was ashamed of that.

  “But now that we’ve finished the next installment, and you so generously allowed me to be a part of it, and we’re so close now…I thought it would be the best time to ask you for a favor…if you would sign my books.”

  His chest rose and fell at a quicker pace as he lifted his gaze to look at me. He stared endlessly, the seconds trickling by until an entire minute had passed. Without blinking, he held my gaze, his emotional response so slight but so powerful at the same time. Once his breathing had quickened, it started to slow again…returning back to his state of calm.

  It was one of the rare times when I couldn’t read him, when his complex thoughts and emotions were impossible for me to decipher. I slid the first book across the table toward him then grabbed a permanent marker and some pens for him to choose from.

  He dropped his gaze and looked at the first hardback for a while before he brought it closer. He opened the first page and looked at the publishing information, reacting slightly when he realized it was a first edition, that I’d bought it years ago.

  I noticed he didn’t have copies of his own novels in his penthouse, not on display or in his bedroom, unless they were in one of the drawers of his dresser. He wasn’t an egotistical person who overemphasized his accomplishments, so perhaps that was why they weren’t on display.

  He grabbed a pen then brought the book closer, turning it sideways so he could write on the page nearly upside down.

  “You’re left-handed…I never noticed that before. But why are you writing like that?” He never turned his papers sideways when he did his work in the lab. He obviously didn’t do that on the whiteboard either.