The Doctor Who Has No Closure (Soulless Book 10)

by Victoria Quinn

  “And you’re putting it on my necklace because…?” I took it from her and examined it, seeing the gold cross with an emerald in the center.

  She fidgeted with her hands before she answered, her back not really as straight, her shoulders sagging a little. “I know you weren’t the surgeon who saved my life, but…I would have wanted you to be if I had the choice. My grandmother was very religious, and I know if she were alive, she would be a great admirer of yours… So I think she’d want you to have it.”

  My eyes left the fourth cross on the chain, and I looked at her, frozen and steady, like I was inside a chest cavity about to cut something. I had a surgeon’s hands, and now I had a surgeon’s evenness, so still, I didn’t even take a breath.

  When the silence stretched and there was no response, she cleared her throat. “Enjoy your lunch, and I’ll get the next patient ready.” She turned away and walked out, closing the door behind her.

  My eyes went back to the chain in my hands, looking at the gifts people gave me for doing my job, something they were entitled to and didn’t even need to be grateful for. My thumb moved over the green emerald before I placed the chain around my neck and clasped it. Having just the single chain was a lot more comfortable than what I had before.

  But it was far heavier than it used to be.

  15

  Sicily

  The donations that poured in after the TED Talk were phenomenal. In the first twenty-four hours, we got the biggest deposits and sponsors who signed up to be monthly donors. As the days trickled by, those deposits became fewer. But since the video was on YouTube and people were always watching it, a gentle stream of revenue flowed in.

  But we needed more.

  We needed as much money as we could possibly get.

  I only booked patients three months in advance because it was too hard to see that far into the future, and if patients had a truly chronic condition, they needed to see a physician right away, not wait around for Dex Hamilton.

  So, there was a lot riding on this night.

  It had to be perfect.

  I utilized the waitstaff at the Four Seasons to help me run the show, bribing them with tips so they would know I was the one in charge and not their event manager. Guests filed in and were immediately greeted with flutes of champagne, taking in the look of the ballroom, the wall of white irises that covered one side to make it seem like we were in a garden more than a ballroom. Most of the decorations had an expensive price tag, but the vendors didn’t charge me for things I could return since the event was a fundraiser for Dex, and the things that couldn’t be returned, like the flowers, were provided at a huge discount. That was how I was able to turn this place into the event of the century on a dime.

  I splurged a bit on my dress, getting a new designer gown I would never have a reason to wear again, but I couldn’t resist.

  Business expense, right?

  It was a beautiful winter-blue color, with straps that led to a sweetheart top that made my tits look unbelievable. It had something to do with the contoured built-in bra. It was tight on my waist then flared out, made of a filmy material with subtle spots of glitter and shimmer to give it that special glow. I matched it with pumps of the same color, and it came with a wrap if I ever got cold. Honestly, I was dressed so nice that I looked more like a guest than the help.

  Dex was late, probably because I couldn’t be there to get him out the door on time. So, I greeted people as they walked inside, introduced myself and welcomed them to the event, made small talk as best as I could with these suits that I knew nothing about. But I could tell they were all rich, judging by their watches, their suits, even their shoes.

  Then two friendly faces walked inside.

  Cleo and Deacon.

  Cleo was in a tight black dress and heels, her brown hair pinned back, her makeup heavier than usual because she was off the clock. With her arm in Deacon’s, she swept her gaze over the room, subtle surprise in her eyes as she took in all the intricate details of the event, seeing the waiters making sure every single person got a glass of champagne, that it was running smoothly. Then she looked at me.

  It was a look I’d never forget.

  She stepped over to me and embraced me with a motherly hug, squeezing me the way she squeezed Dex. “Looks like I have nothing to teach you.” She pulled back, giving me a bright look of approval, even of pride. “Letting you go was the biggest mistake I ever made. But it was my son’s greatest fortune.” She rubbed my arms up and down before she let me go. “And that dress is—”

  “Day-yum.” Daisy walked up and joined us, looking me up and down. “Tell me where you got that dress in two seconds. Otherwise, I’m going to scream—”

  “Emilia’s.” I answered right away because I knew she wasn’t joking.

  “Thank you.” She gave me a thumbs-up then walked away to grab a glass of champagne.

  Deacon smiled slightly before he placed his hand on my shoulder. “It looks amazing. You do as well. Now, where’s my son?”

  “I’m here, I’m here.” Dex came rushing up, slightly out of breath as if he’d run here. He was in a gray suit with a gray tie, the material fitting his broad shoulders and strong chest in perfectly masculine ways. His slacks showed off his lean and toned legs, and the man looked like he belonged on the Bachelor.

  “How are you late to your own event?” Deacon asked.

  “It’s not like I’m late to an operation, Dad.” He patted his father on the back then looked at me, and once he did, his expression immediately changed. His eyes narrowed, and he swept over my appearance in a nanosecond, taking in my long hair that was curled and pinned over one shoulder.

  Daisy walked up behind him and whispered something in his ear before she kept walking.

  Dex continued to stare at me, like he had something to say but couldn’t bring himself to say it.

  Cleo slid her arm through Deacon’s, and they silently excused themselves and started to mingle with people they knew.

  Dex reached for the knot of his tie and adjusted it as he stepped closer to me, no longer the confident guy who could rock jeans and a tee without thinking twice about it. He cleared his throat as he continued to look at me. “Uh…you look…nice.”

  I smiled. “Thank you. Your sister asked where I got this dress the second she saw me.”

  “It would never look as good on her as it does on you.” He slid his hands into his pockets and continued to stare at me, stare at me hard, like he’d never really looked at me before. He didn’t look at the ballroom or give me any compliments on my work. He just seemed to care about me.

  I could see people continuing to file in behind him, to grab their champagne then look at him, as if they were trying to figure out if they could approach him or not. “Dex, you should greet your guests. Then we’ll start the presentation. You already ate, right? Or would you like me to grab you something?”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh right, yeah.”

  “Do you need a plate?” I repeated.

  “No, no. I’m good.” He rubbed the back of his neck before he turned away and extended his hand. “Mr. Van Nyes, how are you? Thanks for coming…”

  I watched him interact with his guests, falling back into his warm and charming persona that continually made people adore him.

  Daisy came back to me, this time holding a glass of scotch because she’d just hit the bar. “Girl, you’re torturing him.” She gave me a playful nudge in the side. “Keep it up. Make him eat his heart out. And your tits…is that all you, or is it the bra?”

  “I think it’s a bit of both.”

  “Man, I’m jealous.” She walked away again and joined her parents at their table.

  I loved the Hamiltons. They were seriously the coolest people ever. A drop-dead gorgeous, brilliant bombshell of a woman just complimented me…like we were in the same league.

  I noticed Derek walk inside, the spitting image of his father, wearing a black suit, his eyes scanning for a familiar face
as he was handed a glass of champagne. I walked up to him. “Hey, you made it.”

  His eyes brightened when he looked at me, lifting from their brooding stare and turning warm. “Sicily, you did a great job with this party. It feels like my mom’s work.”

  “Well, thank you. That’s quite the compliment. Where’s the fam?”

  “We just thought it would be easier if they stayed home. With the two boys and everything, it’s just a lot. Besides, Emerson does this kind of stuff for me all the time, so I wanted her just to relax at home.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “Besides, Dex already knows how much they love him. I’m just here to guilt people into opening their wallets.”

  I chuckled. “Well, that’s very sweet of you.”

  “Hey, what are older brothers for?”

  An older brother who was famous for several different reasons and could really get people to listen. “True. Well, I should get back to work. Tell Emerson I said hello.”

  “I will.” He sauntered off to join his family, moving rigidly like his father, like social events made him a little uncomfortable. Cleo, Daisy, and Dex seemed to be the only ones completely unaffected.

  More people were filing in, so I got my head in the game and got to work.

  I had Dex’s presentation set up on the stage, so all he had to do was walk to the podium and give his speech. I stayed off to the side and clicked through the slides so he wouldn’t have to worry about it. He’d sent me his speech a while ago, so I could just follow along.

  I changed the slide, and from what I could see backstage, Dex turned to regard the large, blown-up picture of his last rotation in South Africa.

  “When we think of an impoverished country, this is what we visualize. No access to running water, vaccines, contraceptives, even a bathroom sometimes. Doctors Without Borders has done a great job continuing its mission to service these populations. But you know what? Sometimes I feel like America is no different.” He slid his hands into his pockets and headed back to the podium at the front of the stage, his physique straight and strong, slightly casual but still immensely powerful. “In the last two months, I’ve seen a lot of patients. Let’s take a look at their demographics.”

  I changed the slide.

  Dex didn’t look behind him, like he trusted we were in sync. “Seventy percent of my patients don’t have the medical coverage required for their operations, but they come from all over the country to see me. Insurance companies throw them through endless hoops, and while they’re waiting for this approval or that approval, they’re wasting precious time. A lot of these people don’t have the time. So, they pool their savings and come to Manhattan to see me. Look, the point of my presentation is not to change the American health care system or complain about it. Change is very slow in this country, if change happens at all. But this is the only way I can make a difference. I forgo my salary for these procedures, so I don’t personally dip into the fund for these patients. The way I make a living, pay my employees, and keep the lights on is when those VIP patients come in and pay in cash. Without the help of my sponsors and donors, I wouldn’t be able to service these patients who have nowhere else to go. When I finished my sabbatical, my first patient had such advanced heart disease that no other physician would operate on him. I was able to successfully clear his heart, and I’m happy to inform all of you that he’s doing quite well. This is all possible because of you, the people who supplement the health care of those who can’t afford it, and if you continue to support me, we can continue to change the world.”

  A loud round of applause filled the ballroom as Dex stood there, his hands still in the pockets of his slacks. He gave a slight nod before he raised his hand then left the stage, moving through the curtain to join me. When the flap opened, the sound was even louder for a moment. He pulled the mic off his jacket and turned it off.

  “You did great.” I shut the laptop and regarded him with a smile in my eyes, loving the way he connected with people so effortlessly, carried himself like he was just an average person because he never thought he was better than anyone else.

  “Yeah? I didn’t talk too much?”

  “No.” I rose from the desk and slid the laptop back into the bag. “You should go take a seat.”

  “Oh, that’s right. The surprise…”

  “Yes.”

  His hands moved into the pockets of his slacks again, and he stared at me, his eyes turning serious, his charming smile gone. When he left the spotlight, he didn’t sigh in relief, as if a roomful of eyeballs glued to his face didn’t raise his blood pressure at all. He was like an astronaut, keeping a slow heart rate even when launching into the sky in a rocket full of fuel that could explode any moment.

  I stared back, my heart not so steady. If I could dream up the perfect man, the ultimate fantasy, it would be Dex Hamilton, so when he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered, I always got a little light-headed.

  He broke the tension when he spoke. “Thank you for…everything.”

  On top of all his qualities, he wasn’t afraid to show his appreciation, which was so sexy. He made me feel more important than I really was, like I was holding the scalpel in the operating room. “It’s my pleasure, Dex.”

  He inhaled a quick breath then opened his mouth to say something, but nothing ever came out because another voice spoke over the speakers.

  “I’m sure most of you know who I am, and for those of you who don’t, I’m Deacon Hamilton…Dex’s father.”

  His eyes narrowed on my face when he recognized his father’s voice.

  “You should go take a seat, Dex.”

  He continued to look at me in surprise. “My dad hates public appearances.”

  “Well, he sure didn’t seem to mind when I pitched the idea to him.” I squeezed his arm. “Go sit down.”

  He shook his head slightly as he looked at me, practically in disbelief. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

  Now I was the one who shook my head. “Thank you, but I’m not Dex Hamilton.”

  He stared at me for a few seconds, like he didn’t want to leave but he knew he should be in that audience so he could listen to every word his father had to say. With reluctance, he turned and left.

  After he was gone, I returned to the main floor and stuck to the wall so no one would notice me. I had to get the next part set up while everyone was watching Deacon on the stage.

  He stood with his hands on either side of the podium, giving his speech like he was the president of the free world. “My son is a bit of an anomaly. When his IQ was tested, we were told that he was profoundly gifted, that the older he became, the higher his score would grow and reach heights few people in the world would ever achieve. Once he was in high school, he was tested again. His score? 205. For those of you who don’t know, the highest recorded score in the world is 263. And where do I fall on this scale? 182. So, my son is definitely smarter than me, which he’s never refrained from reminding me every time I make a mistake.” The crowd chuckled at his words. He seemed perfectly comfortable up there, not sweating under the spotlight. “I call him an anomaly, not because of his gifted intelligence, but because of all the other qualities he possesses that people with that intelligence don’t inherit. For me, interpersonal skills are like gym for most people—worst subject of the day.” Everyone chuckled again. “But Dex has those skills, and they have allowed him to utilize his brilliance in ways most people don’t. When people say to me, ‘Wow, you must be really proud of your boy,’ I always say that I am, but not for the reason they think. Yes, I’m proud that my son attended Stanford at the age of fifteen, that he’s the youngest cardiac surgeon ever to have practiced medicine, that his IQ is literally off the charts. But what I’m most proud of…” He took a pause and surveyed the audience. “…is this.” He tapped his fingers against the podium. “That he cares so much about other people, complete strangers, that he’s devoted his life to the well-being of people who will probably never
truly appreciate his commitment and sacrifice. He’s a hero. And sometimes heroes need some help. So please, help my son. Give what you can.” He surveyed the audience before he dropped his chin and looked down for a moment. “I’ve dedicated my life to healing others, never turning away a patient who couldn’t afford my services, and I’m honored that my son has been so deeply affected by my commitment that he’s done the same. When it’s my time to leave and my wife is by my side in a place I truly hope exists, I know that my legacy will live on. Not because of the work I did as a physician, but because my son is still down here helping people when I no longer can.” The auditorium filled with the loud sound of clapping, people rising to their feet to applaud the touching words Deacon had just said.

  He left the podium, walked down the steps to the floor, and approached the table where his family waited.

  Dex rose from his seat and walked up to his dad. I couldn’t see his face, only his back.

  But Deacon had a slight smile and mouthed, “Meant every word.”

  They embraced, Deacon cupping the back of Dex’s head and pressing a kiss to his forehead, loving him like he was still a baby he could hold in his arms.

  The lights came on and revealed the guests on the stage.

  Ginny Tompkins, Dylan Dubois, and Marc Torres.

  I sat across from them with the microphone in my hand, ready to start the interview. I couldn’t see Dex’s face on the floor, but I was certain he was stunned. When I told his patients about my idea, they were all on board, happy to help. I’d expected Dylan to say no, but he didn’t, and now we had a ridiculously famous guy just sitting there…like it was no big deal.

  I wasn’t confident like Dex was, so being on the stage, all of these rich and affluent people looking at me, wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, but I pushed through it—for Dex. “I have the honor of working with Dex every single day as his executive assistant. I basically run his life, make sure he eats, because if I don’t, he’ll literally starve.” The audience laughed at my joke, and that made me feel a little better. “I’m not a doctor, but I get to witness the work Dex does every single day, so I wanted to share what it’s like to be part of this remarkable endeavor that Dex has built.” I turned to the patients across from me. “Let me introduce you to a couple people Dex has helped. When I contacted them for this event, every single one of them jumped at the chance to talk about their experience with Dex. First, we have Marc Torres, who was one of his first patients when he returned to surgery. We have Dylan Dubois, whom you probably all recognize…”