The Man Who Has No Soul Read online Victoria Quinn (Soulless #1)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Soulless Series by Victoria Quinn
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Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
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“She’s a professional. And maybe I will like her. She seems cool.”

“You said two words to her.”

He pivoted his body toward me farther, his eyes narrowed. “You sure you don’t have a thing for her? Because it’s totally fine if you do—”

“I don’t. This is where I live. Don’t want any bullshit where I live.”

My brother finally let it go. “Alright. You want to give me a tour? Or is it just these rooms and a bedroom?”

“It’s 6,000 square feet.”

He almost spat out the drink he’d just taken. “Damn, Deacon. What do you need all that space for?”

I shrugged.

“Can I crash with you until I get situated?”

I didn’t want to share my space with anybody. I was finally on my own again, living in solitude, the way I preferred. But I wouldn’t reject my brother’s request. “Yes. But only for a few weeks.”

“A deadline? Really?”

“I’m afraid if I don’t give you one, you’ll never leave.”

He chuckled. “That’s a good point…”

Seven

Deacon

It seemed futile, but I had to keep trying.

I stood at the window and pressed the phone to my ear. It was almost six, so it was still early in California, and I listened to the phone ring.

Valerie picked up. “What?” Her voice was so hostile, as if I’d run her over with a car and left her for dead.

I was already so bad at talking to people, and now I had to deal with this combative woman who was impossible to decipher. “Hello.” I tried using my brother’s advice, keeping it simple.

But she was still difficult. “What, Deacon?”

I already felt my temper flaring, the migraine forming behind my temple. “Valerie, it’s been a few months now. I was hoping we could move forward.” I did my best to be cooperative, to do whatever the hell she wanted to make this work, but all she wanted was to make my life difficult—as if I was the one who’d cheated.

“If you wanted to move forward, you should have stayed.”

I closed my eyes, furious. “It’s done, Valerie. Paperwork is filed. We can’t go backward. Let’s move forward.”

“Alright. Then let’s not speak—”

“Please put my son on the phone.” My fingertips pinched the bridge of my nose, a poor attempt to bridle my rage. “What kind of mother are you to keep a son away from his father? I was good to both of you. I gave you half my assets. I pay child support when you don’t need it. All I ask is—”

“If you wanted to be a father, you could have stayed.”

Now I started to yell. “If you wanted me to stay, then you shouldn’t have fucked some other guy!”

She seethed through the phone. “Don’t blame this on me—”

“I just want my son, Valerie. I don’t care about anything else.”

She ignored what I said. “You never really tried, Deacon. I wanted a husband. I wanted a relationship. You never gave me the time of day—”

“I can’t force myself to be in love with you.” My voice grew louder. “What you asked for is impossible—”

“But you didn’t try. Not once in five years.”

Because I’d never been in love at all with my wife, and my mind wasn’t capable of it. My brain was wired differently. I didn’t have the right combination of chemicals to feel the high everyone did. I was over thirty and never even came close to it. “I just can’t, Valerie. I’m different from other people.”

“Whatever,” she said. “You didn’t try to be a husband. So, I’m not going to try to help you.”

My hand tightened into a fist so hard my knuckles turned white. “Not the same fucking thing at all—”

“Goodbye, Deacon.”

“Don’t you fucking hang up on me—”

Click.

“Motherfucker!” I threw the phone against the wall, cracking the screen, breaking it just like last time because I threw it harder than a pitcher on the mound of the MLB. My hands went to my face, and I paced, sweat on my chest like I’d just run a marathon. The physiological reaction of my body was intense, the hard breathing, the palpitations, the blinding rage that would give me the strength to lift a car.

Someone knocked on the door.

I didn’t react, still panting, my eyes still wet from the angry tears.

The door unlocked, and Cleo poked her head inside. “I have Mary here to fit you for your suit…” Her voice trailed away when she saw me standing by the window, just in my sweatpants, breathing heavily as if I’d just finished an intense workout. But she must have figured out exactly what happened because she stopped Mary from coming into my home and seeing me like this. “Mary, can you come back tomorrow morning before Mr. Hamilton leaves for work?” She shut the door, and they continued their conversation.

I’d completely forgotten about this appointment. I had a charity event on Friday, and I needed something to wear. Cleo had sent me an email, but I’d forgotten about it the second I read it, my mind occupied with other things.


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