“She said she’s going to join us in Manhattan. She just needs to sell her place so she can afford something in the city.”
“I can’t picture Mom living here.” I wasn’t a big metropolitan guy either. If I had it my way, I would have my lab somewhere in the forest, surrounded by mountains and lakes, with nothing but woodland creatures and peace and quiet.
“Yeah. But it’s better than being alone.”
“What about her grandson?” I asked in offense.
“She said she doesn’t see him much anyway. Valerie always says she’s busy.”
I leaned my neck back over the edge of the couch and closed my eyes, furious she wouldn’t even let my mother see him. I read the book that Cleo left for me, and while it was informative, I wasn’t sure if it would work on Valerie when she was still seething.
“So, what is going to happen with that? Are you living here permanently or just for a year or so?”
I intended to live here permanently, but I couldn’t imagine my life without my son, knowing he was growing up in a different time zone—and I was missing everything. Valerie loved New York and would love to live here, but she refused to relocate just to be difficult. “I don’t know, Tucker.” I had no idea how to fix this problem. Even if I were in California, Valerie would probably call the cops every time I stopped by to see him, turning it into a fucking soap opera. A part of me wished she were dead—so she wouldn’t be in my way anymore.
He sensed my tone and backed off. “I sold most of my furniture. So, I’m going to come out there with just my clothes and stuff. I’ve shipped the rest, but I’ll beat it there.”
“I already found a few apartments for you.”
He chuckled. “You don’t want me there at all, do you?”
I raised my head and looked at the TV.
“Because of all the women you’re bringing home? Don’t let me stop you.”
My sex life had picked up in the past few weeks. I went by the bar after work sometimes, met a random beautiful woman, and brought her back to my place. Natalie had contacted me a few times too, so she came over whenever I didn’t already have company.
I hated the fact that I’d left Derek behind, but I couldn’t deny the quality of my life had improved. I was happy to live alone, not to come home to Valerie every day, a woman who hated me as much as she loved me. I didn’t have to have sex with the same woman over and over, even if it was good. I had my freedom back, could do what I wanted when I wanted.
He was the only thing missing.
“If Mom moves out here, she’s staying with you, not me.”
“Really?” he asked incredulously. “When you’ve got 6,000 square feet?”
“You’ve got to choose—you or her.” I didn’t have the patience to house both.
He didn’t have a lot of options, so he sighed. “Fine.”
I picked up my papers and set them to the side. “Let me know when your flight gets in. I’ll have Cleo arrange to pick you up and get you moved in here.”
“Ooh…that’s right. I get to see that bombshell, Cleo.”
I ignored what he said. “I’ve got to go. Have a lot of stuff to catch up on before tomorrow.”
“Alright. See you soon.”
Nine
Cleo
I sat in the lobby for forty-five minutes even though I had so much shit to do.
“Cleo, he’ll see you now,” the receptionist said.
“Thanks.” I welcomed myself inside and saw Nigel Frankwood sitting behind his desk in a corner office with stunning views of the city behind him. He was in a crisp black suit, with large shoulders and a big size that made him intimidating in the courtroom. “Hello, Mr. Frankwood.” I reached his desk and extended my hand.
He looked up from his laptop then rose to his feet, giving me a genuine smile. “Cut that shit out and call me Nigel.” He shook my hand then indicated to the plush armchair facing his desk. “It’s been a long time, Cleo. What brings you by?”
Nigel Frankwood used to be one of my clients—until he moved out. His wife wanted something closer to his office so he wouldn’t be home so late all the time, but I doubted that made much of a difference. “To ask for a favor, honestly.”
He leaned back in the leather chair, his arms crossing over his chest. “If you need legal advice, you can pick my brain anytime. We both know how many times I’ve picked your brain over much of the last decade.”
I smiled. “Well, thank you. But it’s not legal advice.”
“Before I forget, do you have any units available? My wife likes our new place, but I’m not a fan. I thought having a regular PA would be enough, but…I totally took you for granted.”
That was quite the compliment. “The units almost never open up—and there’s a waitlist.”
He sighed. “I know. But with the kids and everything, a nanny just isn’t enough.”
I wished I could help him, but I just couldn’t. Deacon managed to get the last one, and I still wasn’t sure how he’d pulled it off. “I’m sorry, Nigel.”
“Damn. Anyway, what is it that you need?”
“I have a client who needs legal help.”
“I can set up a meeting, and we can talk about—”
“I should have phrased that better,” I said. “I mean, I’d like you to represent him.”
He stared at me blankly, as if he couldn’t believe the question. “Cleo, I’m booked solid for the next eighteen months.”
I believed it—because he was the best defense lawyer in the world. He’d won all of his cases, thought out of the box, got murderers off with a simple slap on the wrist. He was not a person you wanted to argue with, especially if you were on the opposite side of that argument. Sometimes it was hard to believe because he was so kind outside the courtroom. “I figured you’d say that, but I really need to help this client.”
He rubbed his fingers across his hard jaw. “Who’s the client?”
“I can’t say.”
He shook his head slightly, amused. “Of course you can’t.”
“It would mean a lot if you could help me out. This client…is…” I didn’t know how to describe him. “He’s a really good man who’s just in a bad situation. He spends his life helping other people, and I really want to help him with this.”
“Why would such a good man need the best criminal defense in the country?”
“Well…it’s not exactly like that.”
Now, he leaned forward. “Cleo, what kind of case is this?”
I didn’t want to say.
“Cleo.”
I cringed. “Child custody.”
He rolled his head back with a sigh. “You know I don’t do those kinds of cases.”
“I know, but I need the best for this. His ex-wife is a very spiteful woman.”
“Look, child custody is very straightforward. He doesn’t need someone like me going to war for him—”
“He says he has skeletons in his closet.”
“What kind?” he asked immediately.
“He wouldn’t say.”
He straightened in the chair. “Let me get this straight. You ask me to represent a client without telling me who he is, without telling me exactly what I’m dealing with here, and for the type of case I don’t even do?”
“Yeah…pretty much.”
He sagged back into the chair, rolling his eyes.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I wouldn’t ask unless it was important.”
He directed his gaze out the window.
“Nigel, come on.”
He was still quiet.
“If there’s something I can do for you, name it.”
He turned back to me like an idea had come to mind. “Alright. You put me at the top of your waitlist—and I’ll do my best.”
It wasn’t that simple, since the owner of the building was in charge of that. But with a bit of pleading, I could probably make that happen. “Alright.”
“Then you have yourself a deal. When do I meet him?”
/> “Well…I still have to talk him into it.”
He shook his head again.
“He wants to be diplomatic first…”
“In my experience, people don’t respond to diplomacy. They respond to war. If he wants to get his kid back, he better make her life miserable—until she caves.”
This was totally unethical.
A huge breach of privacy.
But when I took Deacon’s phone and replaced it, I took Valerie’s contact from his phonebook.
Don’t judge me.
I had good intentions.
When I got to my desk and sat down, Anna was in the other chair.
“You look tired,” she said.
“Because there are no clients around. I finally get to be tired.”
She chuckled. “How’s that asshole with the nice ass?”
I glared at her. “Come on, we can’t give our clients nicknames like that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Hot asshole?”
“Anna.”
“Fine.” She made a snooty voice. “How’s Mr. Hamilton?”
“Better. He’s definitely improved.”
“You finally wore him down?”
“No…I just understand him better.” It was the end of the day, so I finished up the last few things that couldn’t wait until tomorrow, made sure we’d delivered everyone’s dry cleaning, mail, and the other packages that piled up at our desk when they wouldn’t fit inside their mailbox.
Then I went home to my messy apartment. The longer I returned to this pigsty, the more I considered forking over the cash for my own housekeeper. It was a lot of money for me, but clearly, I was never going to fix this place up. I needed someone to clean, do my dishes, even do my laundry.
Sometimes I wished I were rich.
People like Deacon could spend all their time focusing on their careers because they had someone like me do all the mediocre, mundane stuff no one wanted to do. It was the reason he was fit like a horse. Whenever his shirt was off, his body was in such impeccable shape that he had to work out at least two hours every day. And eating nothing but salmon and greens really fueled that body.
With an attitude, I opened a frozen burrito, threw it in the microwave, and ate that shit on the couch, still in the clothes I wore to the office, my pencil skirt and blouse wrinkled now that I slouched on the sofa. I spent my extra cash on designer clothing, because I couldn’t present myself to these people wearing five-dollar t-shirts. I had to be at their level and below them at the exact same time.
When I was finished, I wiped the beans off my face then pulled up the number I was about to call. It was six in the evening in California, so not too late for an interruption. After hearing the way Deacon spoke to her, I was a little intimidated to talk to her, a little scared she would tell Deacon what I did and then he would reprimand me.
But maybe I could make some progress with her.
I put my earbuds in and made the call, still on the clock even when I was at home.
It rang a few times.
Then his ex-wife answered, in a young and feminine voice. “Hello?” Just her voice made her sound like she was pretty, one of those trophy wives who went to yoga every day and left the kid with the nanny.
“Hello, Valerie. My name is Cleo. Is this a bad time? I don’t want to interrupt you during dinner or anything.”
“Uh, what’s this about? Who are you?” She wasn’t exactly combative, but she wasn’t the friendly type either.
“I work at the building in Tribeca where Deacon now lives, and I’ve become his personal assistant and concierge.”
“Oh.” That was all she said, but her anger was potent in the single word. “Well, I really don’t want to spend my evening talking about my ex-husband, and if he has to send a woman to fight his battles—”
“He doesn’t know that I’m calling.” And what the fuck did she just say to me? This woman could fight better than any man.
She turned quiet.
“And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him because he might fire me.” I doubted Deacon would do such a thing. He’d probably get angry with me, but the worst he would do was leave the room, taking his brooding attitude with him. But making her pity me was a good start. “I just thought we could talk, you know, woman-to-woman. I was in his residence when I wasn’t supposed to be, and I overheard your conversation…so he talked to me about the situation.”
She sighed into the line, as if the last thing she wanted to do was talk about her behavior.
“I know this is none of my business, and I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I haven’t known Deacon very long, and he stays very…to himself? He doesn’t say much. He doesn’t communicate well. I can barely get an acknowledgment out of him sometimes.”
“Girl, you’re preaching to the choir…”
Okay, I was getting somewhere. “But…he broke down in tears in front of me.”
Silence.
“He told me about Derek, how much he loves him, how much he wants to see him. Divorces are messy and complicated, that’s a given. It takes time to sort everything out. But despite what Deacon has done to hurt you, he clearly loves your son so much.”
She was still quiet, as if she actually listened to what I said.
“I think a lot of women wished their exes wanted to spend time with their kids…”
She sighed loudly.
“It would mean a lot to him if he could talk to Derek…maybe see him.”
“Well, in case you didn’t notice, he moved across the country to get away from me, so I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Deacon told me he’s doing important research that required him to be in Manhattan, so I don’t think he was actively trying to get away from you. Judging from the way he talks about Derek, the last thing he wants is to be away from him.”
She went quiet again.
“Can we work something out here, Valerie?”
“Why do you care?” she whispered. “You’re just his PA.”
“I care about all my clients. I think being reunited with his son would really make him happy.”
“Well, we live on opposite sides of the country, so he’s never going to be able to see his son often.”
“Well, what if you moved here?”
“Uh, no. I don’t want to be in the same city as that asshole.”
I felt offended at the insult, wanted to leap to his defense because he didn’t deserve the label. He was a great man, just misunderstood, and she was the one holding her kid hostage like this was a bank heist. “Well…can we do a video call?”
“I…I don’t know.”
How could she be so heartless?
“Deacon didn’t give me what I wanted for years. I don’t see why I should bend over backward to give him what he wants.”
“Setting up a video call is not bending over backward.” It was doing the bare minimum so her son could see his father. And Deacon wasn’t just some random guy who’d knocked her up. He was a brilliant, successful, strong man, the perfect role model for his boy.
“I’m just not ready to deal with him yet.”
This call had gone better than I’d expected, but I still felt like I hadn’t really accomplished anything. “I noticed that Deacon’s birthday is coming up…”
She didn’t say anything.
“It would make him really happy to see Derek. Maybe he could come to Manhattan for the weekend—”
“I’m not flying across the fucking country so my ex-husband can see his kid on his birthday.”
I knew Deacon hated leaving his son behind, but if this was how she spoke to other people, I knew he’d made the right decision. He shouldn’t be subjected to emotional abuse for the rest of his life just to see his kid. “That’s where I come in. I can fly out there, pick up Derek, bring him here. Then I’ll escort him back.” No, I didn’t want to spend my free time commuting across the country, but I knew this would make Deacon happier than he’d ever been.
�
�Lady, I don’t even know you.”
“Then look me up. My clients are investors on Wall Street, actors and actresses, tech billionaires…all the people you see in the news are my clients. You can trust me with your son. We can set up a virtual meeting if you want to get to know me better. I’m totally fine with that. But I assure you, I’m the most responsible and resourceful person on the planet.”
She was quiet.
“You don’t need to make a decision right now. But if you could just think about it, I’d appreciate it.”
Still nothing.
“You still love Deacon?” I asked bluntly.
The energy changed over the phone, like she was surprised by the question. “That man is the love of my life.”
Those words were knives in my ear canal. The possessiveness in her tone sickened me, made me want to punch her in the face. How could she say something like that but hold her son hostage? That wasn’t love. That was something else. “If your goal is to reconcile with him, this is not the way to do it. The one thing you have in common is your son. You should use that to your advantage.”
“Maybe,” she whispered. “I just… It’s hard for me.”
A woman didn’t trick a man into knocking her up if she loved him. A woman didn’t keep her son away from his father if she loved him. A woman didn’t force a man to be with her when he said he would never love her.
This bitch was evil.
I forced myself to continue my cooperative tone. “Just think about it. I’ll be in touch.”
As soon as I watched Deacon step out of the elevator with his satchel over his shoulder and get into the back seat of his private car, I grabbed his dry cleaning and met our housekeeper outside his door.
There was no reason for the cleaners to have access to our clients the way we did, not when I was downstairs and could let them in myself. I got the door unlocked and stepped inside, the hook of the hangers on my fingertips.
She carried in the pile of fresh sheets and set them on the couch.
I moved to the hallway where I could place his clean clothes in his closet.
But then I stilled, seeing the blonde sitting at the table on her phone, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. She was in a wrinkled dress with her heels on the table, which was obnoxious to me. Her makeup was gone like she’d washed her face sometime in the middle of the night.
The Man Who Has No Soul Page 8
