He turned away and walked out. “I’ll give him his asking price.”
“I think you can get it cheaper.”
He stopped and turned back to me. “He was so accommodating, I’d rather just give him what he wants.” Then he kept walking.
I’d had to ask my client to hold this property as a favor to me, and if I returned to him and said he was getting every penny he asked for, he would see it as a mutual benefit. He was far more likely to do favors for me in the future, so Deacon had just helped me out a lot. “Alright.”
Seventeen
Deacon
I didn’t usually eat breakfast, and today had been no exception. So, when lunchtime came around, I was hungry. We were at the cabin for an hour, and now it was almost noon and we still had a long drive. I turned to Cleo, who sat with her legs crossed against the opposite window, her posture perfect despite being seated for so long. “Want to stop somewhere?”
“I don’t need to use the restroom.” She put her phone down so she could look me in the eye as she spoke.
“I meant to eat. Are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry,” she said with a laugh. “But I can make it back to the city.”
I didn’t understand that response. She was usually a lot more direct. So, I tried again. “I’d like to get something to eat. Is that okay with you?” It made me appreciate all our previous conversations because she spoke in a language I could understand, and the second she didn’t, it was back to awkward conversations I hated.
She nodded like she finally understood. “That sounds nice.”
I told the driver to take us to one of the restaurants I found on my phone. It was a diner right before the craziness of the highways that led to the city. I didn’t want to find a place in town, with all the conversations and people.
The driver pulled into the parking lot, and we walked inside, finding a booth near the window. There was almost no one there, only the booth at the end of the restaurant filled with an elderly couple.
That was what I liked—lots of space.
Cleo picked up the laminated menu and looked through the selections. “Ooh…they serve breakfast all day.”
There weren’t a lot of options I liked, but I couldn’t make it back to the city without eating. By the time I got there and actually cooked something, it would be almost two. I’d probably get a headache.
“I’m getting the strawberry waffle with the bacon and eggs.” She set her menu on the end of the table.
I decided to do the same. I set my menu on top of hers.
“What did you decide on?”
“The same.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really? You don’t strike me as a waffle kind of guy.”
“There’s nothing I really want, so I just decided to get the best bad thing.”
The waitress came over and took our orders.
“I’ll have the strawberry waffle with scrambled eggs and bacon,” she said. “He’ll have the same thing. I’ll take an orange juice too.”
The waitress turned to me.
“Water,” I answered.
She walked away.
I knew she’d ordered for me because I hated talking to people, but I didn’t need someone to hold my hand like a child. But when I considered what she’d done at that award ceremony, I knew it was the same thing. She was just trying to make my life easier—and I couldn’t get angry about it. I let it go.
The drinks were placed in front of us.
Cleo took a long drink. “I love fresh-squeezed orange juice, especially when it’s chilled like this.”
I drank my water, my stomach growling.
“Assuming we can close escrow in a month, when will you take your first trip up there?”
I shrugged. “Not sure. I’m going to be busy for the next few weeks.”
“What are you working on?”
“Patient care.”
“Ooh…” She nodded like she was interested.
“I just started clinical trials on something I’ve been working on. These patients signed up for it.”
“How do you feel about the treatment?”
“I’m optimistic, but I’m also realistic. It won’t help all of them. But I’ll be happy if it helps one of them.”
She nodded. “Is that the part of your job you dislike? When it doesn’t help people?”
I’d been confronted by patients who broke down in tears when I told them my attempt didn’t work. I remained stoic as they gave in to the sobs of their heartbreak. It was difficult to listen to, but it didn’t get to me either. “I always do my best to help people, everything I possibly can to prolong their life or cure them. And if it doesn’t work…I just remind myself I did everything I could. It helps me sleep at night.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly on my face, with that hint of emotion she sometimes showed. “You’re only human.”
I nodded.
“Superhuman…but human.”
I took a drink of my water and looked out the window. It was hard to leave the countryside to return to the polluted air that was slowly killing us all. No air filter could pull all the toxins out of my residence. “How are things with you?” I never asked those kinds of questions even if they were a component of social decorum. They just didn’t come naturally to me. But I asked her because I was interested in her response.
She sighed before she spoke. “Busy. I’m helping a client plan a Met gala. It’s in a few weeks, but her budget is enormous, so it’s quite the spectacle.”
“So, you literally do everything?” I didn’t realize party planning was part of her job description, but real estate acquisition didn’t seem to be either.
She nodded. “Literally.”
“I underestimated you.” When we’d first met, I’d assumed she was a stupid girl who couldn’t handle me, that she was too young to understand a client who was so different from her. But she understood me better than anyone else. If people didn’t know me, they didn’t take me seriously either, because my age didn’t match my extent of accomplishments.
“I know.” She smiled, being playful but not arrogant. “But that’s how most clients are unless someone they know defends my credibility. I don’t mind a challenge, though, so it’s fine. I don’t take it personally.”
I didn’t take anything personally either.
The waitress brought our food quickly, probably because there was no one else in the restaurant.
“Wow, this looks good.” She rubbed her hands together. “I haven’t had breakfast like this in a long time.”
There was no way she could keep that waistline if she ate food like this regularly, so I knew she had a strict diet or just didn’t eat much. She was probably too busy for large meals, just as I was.
She grabbed her plastic container of syrup and dumped it on everything.
I took a few bites, enjoying it more than I’d thought I would.
“What do you think?”
“Not bad.”
She cut into her waffle and stabbed it with a fork, along with a few strawberries, and placed it into her mouth. “I think it’s delicious.” She kept her gaze down as she ate, focusing on her food instead of me.
I picked at pieces but spent most of my time staring at her, noticing how slender her neckline was. She was really petite, a waist I could grasp with both hands. She was always in heels so I wasn’t sure what her natural height was, but I imagined she would be five feet in flats. She was small…but she made up for her size with her authority, her presence. I found myself staring at her most of the time we were together, something about her features bringing me comfort, stimulating me when most faces barely registered in my brain. I’d met the same person dozens of times because I couldn’t bring myself to care about their name or their face. But I remembered hers down to the last detail.
She finished her waffle, dragging the last piece through the pool of syrup before placing it in her mouth. “No regrets.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin even though she
hadn’t spilled and set it on the table.
I didn’t eat as much, just enough to make me full. I didn’t like to eat out often. I was too picky. It was another reason I chose to pick up women in bars. We didn’t have to share a meal together. I couldn’t imagine having that level of intimacy with anyone besides Cleo. Face-to-face, with nothing but conversation, I would go crazy if she were Natalie or one of the others. I’d probably just get up and leave.
“I’m sorry you didn’t like yours as much.”
“I’m full. That’s all that matters.”
The waitress put the paper tab on the corner of the table.
Cleo immediately grabbed her clutch.
I kept a lot of cash in my wallet to keep my interactions with people limited, so I set a hundred-dollar bill on top of it, not even checking the total. The waitress could have whatever was left over.
She opened her clutch and pulled out a twenty.
I raised an eyebrow as I stared at her. “What are you doing?”
“Splitting the tab.”
I was annoyed with her attempt, but I didn’t know why. If she were Tucker, I wouldn’t have this reaction. But watching her try to pay for her meal, using her hard-earned money when I was a billionaire, was infuriating.
She seemed to understand all those thoughts just by looking at me, reading my mind like always. She felt my hostility like a hot shower, felt my annoyance without my having to verbalize it. She put the cash back into her wallet. “Well…thank you.”
I told the driver to take her home first. Didn’t make sense for her to walk three blocks to her apartment just so I could get home a half hour sooner. I had so much work to do, but it would be there regardless when I returned.
The driver pulled up to the curb.
I unclipped my safety belt.
“Deacon, you don’t need to walk me. It’s the middle of the day.” She unclipped her safety belt and opened the door.
There was no reason for me to escort her. It wasn’t late at night and she lived on the good side of town, but I felt weird sitting there and driving away. She’d given up her Saturday to help me, pulled strings with a client to give me something that was perfect for me. I didn’t want to do it out of obligation. I just wanted to.
She was almost to the door when I got out of the car.
I caught up with her at the elevator.
She turned to me, immediately surprised that I’d decided to follow her.
I came to her side and placed my hands in my pockets, quiet.
She cleared her throat and didn’t say anything.
The doors opened, and we got into the elevator together. It was a short ride to the top, but it felt like long, like I was dreading the end.
The doors opened, and we walked to her front door. Her keys were already out, so she unlocked it, but she made sure it stayed closed like she didn’t want me to see the inside of her apartment. “Thank you for walking me, Deacon. I’ll see you on Monday.”
I continued to stand there and stare, gaze at her pretty face like I never wanted to stop.
She was patient with me, staying still as I tried to find the words to speak.
“I’m sorry I doubted you.” Sometimes it was easy to talk to her, but other times it wasn’t. This was one of those times when I couldn’t express my thoughts whatsoever. “You’ve done a lot for me…and I don’t deserve it.” I had no idea what her salary was, though she did live alone in a nice building just a few blocks from me, but I knew she wasn’t rich. There was no way she was paid enough to put up with people like me.
A soft smile moved onto her lips, her eyes crinkling like she heard those words exactly the way I meant them. “I’m happy to help you, Deacon. One of my favorite things about this job is coming to work…and seeing your face.”
We met at a bar after work.
Tucker was still in his suit like he’d walked straight there after he left the hotel. “So, you bought a cabin?”
I nodded. “Just a few hours outside the city. Right on the lake.”
“Man, that sounds nice. Imagine taking a babe up there to screw all weekend.”
That hadn’t crossed my mind. That would mean I’d have to sit with her for the two-hour drive, and she’d been there all weekend…that sounded terrible. I didn’t want to spend any extended amount of time with anyone except my boy. “No interest in that.”
“Then what’s it for?”
“I thought I’d take Derek up there. Or go by myself…”
“Well, can I take a babe up there to fuck all weekend?”
My eyes narrowed.
“I meant that as more of a joke…”
I thought about something else the second my brother mentioned his personal life, since that entailed Cleo now.
“When do you get the keys?”
“In a couple weeks.”
“Cool. Maybe the two of us could go fishing. I’ve never done it before.”
“I can teach you.”
“Sounds good.” He clinked his beer against mine. “So, things are good with Cleo. We went bowling the other night—”
“I told you I didn’t want to hear about her.”
He stilled at my outburst. “I thought you meant sexual stuff.”
Definitely didn’t want to hear about that. “I don’t want to hear about it at all.” I took a drink and looked at the TV in the corner.
“Well, we haven’t slept together…in case you were wondering.”
I didn’t pull my gaze away from the TV.
“Deacon.” Tucker stared at me.
I shifted my gaze back to him.
“It’s fine if you like her. Just tell me—”
“I don’t. She’s my friend, and I don’t want to hear about you grabbing her ass, looking down her top, shit like that.”
“Really?” he asked. “Because I’m starting to wonder otherwise.”
I turned my gaze away again. “I don’t see her like that.”
“Like what?”
“As a woman I pick up in a bar.”
“Well, maybe that’s true. Maybe that’s not how you see her.”
Good. The conversation was over.
“Maybe you see her as more than that.”
My eyes moved back to his. “Just be straight. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
He leaned forward. “You don’t want to sleep with her and never call her again, because she’s not a one-night stand. Maybe you want an actual relationship with her, like a girlfriend, a monogamous type of thing.”
After Valerie, that was the last thing I wanted. Marriage was brutal. I never wanted to go through that again, to watch someone suck all my joy away, watch someone take half my money when I couldn’t put up with it anymore. Money wasn’t important to me, but my wealth came from my hard word, my mind, my dedication, and she’d done nothing to earn it. It was like a partnered assignment we both got A’s on—but I did all the work. “I never, ever want to be in another relationship again.” I spoke clearly, concisely, plainly so my brother would not misunderstand a single word.
He gave a slight nod. “Alright. But I wouldn’t say ever…”
“Trust me, it’s ever.” I had been married to a woman I was completely indifferent to. I was indifferent to most people. All I valued out of that relationship was sex. Sex was all I needed. So, I went out into the real world and got it. But that was it. I didn’t need further companionship. I’d said I never wanted children and all that changed when Derek opened his eyes for the first time, but my stance on romantic relationships wouldn’t change.
“Alright. I really like Cleo, so that’s a relief. I haven’t been monogamous with a woman without getting sex in…forever.” He grabbed his beer and took a drink, his gaze shifting to the TV behind me.
I didn’t ask further questions, hoping he would drop the topic.
He did. “So, Mom is moving in about a month…the second the house closes escrow.”
Eventually, I would have to tell my family the
truth about my situation with Valerie and Derek. They would be livid, turning a big problem into a bigger one. Maybe Valerie would come around in the meantime…but I had a feeling she wouldn’t.
Eighteen
Cleo
I stepped out of the elevator and walked to my apartment.
It’d been a really long day—and that burrito was calling my name.
I unlocked the door and almost tripped over the envelope on the floor. It was letter size and thick, as if it contained lots of documents. I locked the door behind me before I picked it up.
I didn’t give my address to clients, so I didn’t know who could have sent this to me. Deacon was the only one who knew where my apartment was. I assumed it was from him, and there was a bit of excitement in my pulse at the thought.
I opened it and examined the files.
They were divorce papers.
Jake’s divorce papers.
They’d been officially filed a week ago.
I sighed loudly and threw the envelope onto the table, wishing I had a fireplace to burn them. It’d been a while since I’d last spoke to Jake, and I’d hoped his silence meant he’d moved on. But these divorce papers proved otherwise, that he thought being married was the problem keeping us apart.
I wasn’t heartbroken over him anymore. I couldn’t even remember the last time I thought about him.
I unlocked the door for housekeeping with two bags of groceries in hand. Deacon preferred fish and seafood straight from the fishmonger, so it was fresh and never frozen. He also liked a lot of produce, and that required several bags to fit everything.
“I’ll start in the guest room.” The maid moved into the hallway where his private gym was located, along with the guest room where Tucker had stayed.
I carried the bags into the kitchen and started to put them away.
Footsteps sounded behind me.
I turned around, knowing it wasn’t the maid. I just hoped it wasn’t another stupid bimbo who needed to wash out her mouth with alcohol so it wouldn’t be so filthy.
The Man Who Has No Soul Page 16