The Man Who Has No Sight (Soulless Book 4) Read online

  The Man Who Has No Sight

  Soulless #4

  Victoria Quinn

  Hartwick Publishing

  Hartwick Publishing

  The Man Who Has No Sight

  Copyright © 2020 by Victoria Quinn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  One

  Cleo

  The memory of summer was long gone now.

  Winter came to New York early. The wind was bitingly cold, the first snow hit before Thanksgiving, and the sewers rose with steam because the air above ground was so dry. I hardly left the building because I was usually in my office collecting deliveries before I went to see my clients. But sometimes I did grocery runs, and when I did that, I was so grateful I didn’t have to walk several blocks to my old apartment.

  Now, I just went upstairs.

  I was sitting in the office finishing an email when Matt took a seat at his desk. “Are you living with Deacon now?”

  A rock the size of an asteroid had been lifted off my shoulders when I didn’t have to lie anymore. Deacon wasn’t a dirty secret I had to hide to save my ass. I could tell everyone we were together, that we would stay together. “No. I’m just staying with him until I find an apartment.”

  “Can you go back to an apartment after living in a luxury residence?” he asked with a chuckle.

  It wasn’t the residence I was so fond of, but the man who lived in it. “It’ll be rough…that’s for sure.”

  “I can’t believe you were together right under our noses and no one noticed.”

  I shrugged. “It’s a big building with a lot of clients…and no one would suspect I would do something like that.”

  “Well, I wish the same rules applied to me, because there’re some pretty sexy ladies who live here.” He winked.

  “I doubt Mr. Kline would mind, honestly.” If I was going to do it, what did it matter if other people did it? As long as they weren’t adulterous affairs.

  “Shelly Vancouver is awfully nice to me…”

  “The supermodel?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “What? You think I couldn’t get her?”

  “No. I just think she’s…a little ditzy for you. You’re very intelligent, Matt.”

  He shrugged. “Intelligent men don’t want intelligent women. They want sexy women. Look at Deacon. He’s a genius, and you’re easy on the eyes.”

  I definitely wasn’t a genius, but I still knew his love was more than skin-deep. But I didn’t tell Matt that. “Fair enough.”

  “So, have you actually been looking for an apartment?”

  “I’ve been dragging my feet a little…”

  He laughed. “Maybe if you drag your feet long enough, he’ll just let you live with him.”

  If I had it my way, I would never leave. It would be my home forever. “That’s not how I want it to be. I’ll move out, and maybe someday, he’ll ask me to move back in.”

  When I entered the residence, he wasn’t home yet, even though it was pretty late. I texted him. Everything alright?

  Just got held up. I’ll be there soon.

  My things were still in the spare bedroom because I wasn’t so presumptuous as to move them. He didn’t want me to leave his bedroom last night, but that message was still unclear. Had he meant that indefinitely or just that evening?

  I poured a glass of wine and opened the fridge.

  He had his fresh meats and his veggies set up and ready to go because he washed his vegetables after they were delivered. I wasn’t a skilled chef like he was, but I wanted to cook for him, so it was one less thing he had to do when he came home. So, I pulled up a quick recipe for the salmon and got to work while sipping my wine.

  It wasn’t too hard.

  By the time I was done, he came home.

  In the gray suit tailored to his muscular body, he moved inside, his satchel over his shoulder. He hated wearing suits and ties, which was unfortunate because he looked so incredible when he wore them. He carried his satchel to the dining table and immediately loosened his tie.

  I watched him before I scooped the fish and veggies onto the plate, recognizing the tightness of his jawline, the fatigue in his eyes. It’d been a long day at the office, and he was clearly irritable.

  I carried the plates to the dining table and set them down. “Okay, I know it won’t be as good as yours, but I’m sure it’s edible.”

  He stared at the plate as he pushed his jacket over his shoulders and let it fall down his arms. He tossed it over the other chair before his fingers went to the buttons of his collared shirt, popping each one as he looked down at the plate. “You cooked dinner?”

  “I know you had a long day, so I thought I would help…” Maybe I should have just left it alone.

  When his shirt was loose on his chest, he finally looked at me, his eyes tired but kind. “Thanks.” He moved into me, wrapped his arm around my waist, and gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

  I smiled when he turned away.

  He took a seat and immediately scarfed it down, as if he’d skipped lunch so he was starving. He took a drink of his wine in between bites, but he didn’t pause for conversation.

  I guess that meant it was good.

  I ate mine, knowing it wasn’t as good as his, but it wasn’t bad.

  He finished every bite then finally decompressed, like he needed something in his stomach before he could be himself again. “That was good. Thank you.”

  “Yeah?” I asked in surprise, glad he liked it. I loved taking care of him, but I’d never cooked before. When he came to my apartment, he usually was the one who whipped something up in my kitchen. Sometimes he worked long hours, so it was nice to be able to save him time when he came home.

  “Yeah.” He pushed his empty plate away and looked at me, his elbows on the table, his shirt open to reveal his chiseled, tanned skin underneath. The previous night had been full of lovemaking, a reconnection of our hearts and souls. That connection was still there now, like we were really getting back to what we used to be.

  I hoped we would do that every night for the rest of our lives, that it wasn’t a one-time thing until he was ready to do it again. “How was your day?”

  He shook his head slightly. “I had a couple meetings, and I fucking hate meetings.”

  “I think that’s universal.”

  “I wish someone could run my company so I could just work, but that will never happen. No one would care about it the way I do. No one would take care of it the way I do. So, I’m stuck dividing my time between the two.”

  “We could always try to find someone, and I could monitor them.”

  He gave a definitive shake of his head. “I built that company from the ground up, and I know I’d never be happy with someone else taking the lead. I may be difficult at times, but I would still do a better job protecting its integrity and virtues than someone else. They would focus on the money. Yes, the business needs to remain profitable, but that’s not my top priority.”

  I hated to admit it, but he was right; having a CEO take his place probably wouldn’t work. Deacon didn’t think like a businessman, and while it was counterintuitive, it was the reason he had such immense success. People respected his work and his ideals, so he’d amassed a ton of supporters and credibility. If he released anything into the world, people knew it was safe and had been tested a zillion times. He cared about people, not the price tag. When insulin became monopolized and unaffordab
le to many, he released his own version at a tenth of the cost just to help those people. “I know I’m not knowledgeable about everything you do, but I’m a quick learner, and I can always help you…if there’s anything you think I can do.” I would never volunteer myself to run his company because I already had a job I loved, but I could carve out some time in my schedule to help him out.

  He stared at me, his brown eyes so still they were like marbles. “You mean that?”

  I almost rolled my eyes. “Deacon, I’ll do anything for you.” I wouldn’t even charge him for my time.

  “I just understand you’re busy.”

  “I’m never too busy for you.”

  His eyes softened. “I’ll think about it. Since the information is private, I have to pull everything up and go through it myself, because I don’t necessarily want Theresa or one of my colleagues to know every little detail. Just organizing it is time-consuming. And dealing with all the other channels is a lot of work too, like FDA approval, et cetera.”

  “I can do a lot of that for you…if you want.” He would really give me access to his private information, like his financial success, because I would probably see his payroll, the salary of his colleagues, his own cut of the company…stuff you may not want the woman you’re seeing to know about.

  “I’ll think about it.” He rubbed his fingers over the scruff of his jawline and glanced out the window, which was hazy from the winter snow. He turned back to me after a while. “I’m gonna host Thanksgiving here. I thought about doing it at the cabin, but it’s going to snow every day and the streets might be slippery.”

  “That’s probably smart. Let me know what you need. I’ll make sure I grab everything. And if you’d prefer to have a chef, that works too.”

  He shook his head. “No. I’ll cook.”

  I wasn’t sure where I would be. I didn’t usually celebrate the holidays since I had no one to celebrate with. Most of the time, I worked in my office in case a client needed something. It was depressing, but I chose not to let it bother me since it wasn’t my fault I’d lost my parents so young. I always told myself I would have my own family someday…and I just needed to be patient.

  “I’ll invite my mother and Tucker over, maybe Pria, depending on what Tucker says.”

  “What about Derek?”

  “I’ll invite him…and Valerie.”

  I hoped she was on her best behavior, especially in front of his family. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, so I’ll be at the office.” I would stay out of his way, make sure Valerie didn’t have any idea I was living there.

  His eyes turned back to me, narrowing at my words. “You’re working on Thanksgiving?”

  “Well, I always have stuff to do.” I didn’t want him to pity me. Pity was the worst. I didn’t volunteer that the office would actually be closed for the long weekend.

  He continued to give me his cold stare, like I offended him. “I just assumed we would spend Thanksgiving together.”

  Now I stared at him blankly, surprised by the offer because I’d never expected him to feel that way. I’d met his family, but spending the holidays with him, his family, his son, and his ex-wife…seemed pretty serious. “I…I just assumed you wouldn’t want me there.”

  “Why?” he asked, his eyes more intense.

  “I don’t know… I thought we were taking it slow.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “You’re the woman I love. I want to spend the holidays with the woman I love. I don’t understand what’s so complicated about that.”

  I took a breath and steadied the tears that wanted to form. I had been alone on every holiday, and it was the first time I had someone to spend it with since my divorce. There was nowhere else I wanted to be than right here. “I just didn’t want to be presumptuous…”

  “Well, you should be more presumptuous.” His tone was a little cold, as if he was actually upset with me at the assumption.

  “Even with Valerie there?” I asked incredulously. “Don’t you think that’s going to be—”

  “I don’t give a shit how she feels about it. I’ll invite her because I want Derek to see a healthy relationship between his two parents. If she can’t handle that, then she can spend it alone or with Jake. I really couldn’t care less.”

  It meant the world to me to be included, for him to want me to spend the holiday with his family and his son. It was the first time I was actually excited about Thanksgiving since I never really felt comfortable with my ex’s family. “Well…thank you.”

  “And I’m not inviting you because you’re living here—if that was your next assumption.”

  Two

  Deacon

  I walked down the hallway to Valerie’s front door.

  “The museum was soooooo boring.” Derek walked beside me, his backpack over his shoulders. “I don’t get museums. They’re quiet…you can’t touch anything…there’s ugly paintings everywhere.”

  That was something Derek never had connected with—the arts. He was like me, only interested in quantitative data, moved by facts, not fiction. He was never interested in reading Harry Potter, but instruction manuals instead. He liked to color in coloring books, but if he were to try to paint a blank canvas, he quickly lost interest. “You should try to appreciate everything in life, Derek. Even the things that don’t interest you.”

  “Do you like museums?”

  “Depends on the kind of museum.”

  “Well, this one was so lame.”

  I chuckled then knocked on the door.

  Valerie opened it a second later and greeted her son. “Hey, honey.” She ran her fingers through his thick hair before she stepped aside and let him into the condo.

  “Hey, Mom.” He immediately dropped his backpack and left it in the middle of the floor even though he knew better. Clearly, Valerie had very different house rules than I did. He moved farther inside and disappeared from the entryway.

  Valerie was hostile once he was gone, her arms across her chest, furious with me.

  Sometimes I felt like we were still married. “I’m hosting Thanksgiving, if you’d like to join us.”

  A slight hint of surprise moved into her gaze.

  “If you don’t already have plans…” I couldn’t tell how serious she was with Jake because I’d stopped asking. I told her I didn’t like him, and I wouldn’t repeat myself. If she wanted to date a piece of shit, I wouldn’t intervene.

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Alright. We’re eating at four.”

  “Who’s going to be there?”

  “My mom, Tucker and his girlfriend, and Cleo.”

  Her hostility returned. “Cleo?”

  “Yes.” I slid my hands into my pockets.

  “You really think it’s appropriate for her to be at a holiday?”

  My eyes narrowed, and I had to swallow my rage, to keep a straight face even though I wanted to tell her to fuck off. “Yes.”

  “Look, I don’t feel comfortable with her being around—”

  “Then don’t come, Valerie.”

  Her eyes widened in shock.

  “I’m inviting you to Thanksgiving. You can accept or decline. Simple.”

  Her arms tightened, and her lips pressed together hard, like she was a dormant volcano that had just come to life. “I don’t want Cleo around our son.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.” I turned to leave, still struggling to believe how heartless she was.

  “Deacon.”

  I turned around to face but didn’t walk back to the door.

  She walked to me, her arms still across her chest, her hips shaking. She looked at me with fury, like I’d really done something terrible to her. “Get rid of her. Or you’ll never see your son again.” She shifted her weight to one foot, cocking a full attitude.

  I stared down into her face, hit with a million emotions that I didn’t show. Because of my former drinking problem, she would always have the upper hand over me, always have the judge’s preference, especially s
ince she was gorgeous. I would always be at her mercy. But I wasn’t going to give in to her demands. “Cleo is family.” It was that simple. “She stays.” I wasn’t choosing my girlfriend over my son. I was just choosing myself over Valerie. She was a terrorist—and I wouldn’t negotiate.

  She couldn’t hide her shock, both of her eyebrows rising to the top of her forehead.

  “I hope you change your mind about Thanksgiving. Because I would love our son to see both of his parents at the dinner table, as friends. I keep extending olive branches to you for the sake of the amazing person we made together. I will always have some kind of affection for you because you made him…the one person in the world I love more than anything. I will keep trying to keep us together. But I will not let you affect my relationship with Cleo. Nothing you say, nothing you do, will change what we have. Don’t bother. Accept her…or don’t. But the way that affects our relationship with Derek, Derek’s relationship with me, his father, the impact it will have on his development…that’s all on you.”

  I had a rough day at work.

  My mind was elsewhere, thinking about my conversation with Valerie.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, scared that she would make good on her threat and take Derek away from me. She could move to another building, move back to California, take me to court to get full custody and make sure I had no legal rights…she could ruin my life.

  But I wouldn’t sacrifice Cleo.

  No.

  Because if it wasn’t Cleo, it would just be someone else. Valerie would dictate the terms of my life until she was dead. Her foot would always be in my ass, kicking me forward, pulling the strings like I was some kind of puppet.

  I refused to play the game anymore.

  I just had to hope that Valerie was bluffing.

  After the long day at work, I went home, feeling the same weight of pain in my stomach. There was anxiety in my blood, discomfort. Valerie knew exactly how to play me like a violin—and make me sing. I wanted to have both Cleo and Derek in my life. But according to Valerie, I could only have one.