The Man Who Has No Sight (Soulless 4)

When I stepped into my condo, Cleo was already there.

It was one of the few times I regretted having her there.

I was in a bad mood after the shitty day I’d had, and all I wanted was to be alone.

She came out of the kitchen, holding two plates of food. “With enough practice, maybe I’ll be as good as you.”

I carried my satchel to the dining table and set it down at the edge.

She stood there, waiting for some kind of praise, and when it didn’t happen, she uncorked the wine and poured two glasses. “Everything alright?”

I didn’t want to tell her I’d lost my temper and almost broken a man’s windpipe. Never in my life had I struck someone like that. I’d been a loner my whole life, so I’d never been involved in any kind of altercation. But once he’d said those words, I knew exactly how to make a fist, how to slam those knuckles into his nose to make him bleed as if a homicide had just taken place. I felt like an animal, returning to my wild roots.

She straightened and continued to stare at me, hoping for an explanation.

I didn’t want her to know. Not because I was ashamed. I just didn’t want to tell her what I’d done right before I stepped into the elevator. “I had a shitty day, but I don’t want to talk about it.” I never gave her responses like that, at least not anymore. Most of the time, I actually wanted to share my day, explain the things that ticked me off.

“Alright.” Her eyes lowered slightly, but she didn’t seem angry. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” I left my satchel on the table and turned around. “I’m going to shower.” I just needed some time to cool off, to have a moment to myself so I could decompress. My knuckles still ached from the force I’d just utilized, and they needed some cold water from the faucet.

I went into my bedroom, showered, and when I came out, there was an open bottle of beer on my nightstand—still cold. I grabbed it and took a drink, letting the booze dull my rage. The shower had helped, but only so much. I lay in bed for a while, scrolling through emails on my phone, partially expecting a phone call from Valerie.

But if he wasn’t a pussy, he wouldn’t rat me out.

When I got hungry, I returned to the living room.

Cleo wasn’t there, so she must have been in her bedroom. I went to the fridge and grabbed the plate she’d wrapped for me and threw it in the microwave before I ate at the dining table, working on my laptop at the same time.

An hour later, she came out and joined me, wearing a strappy camisole and short bottoms. She carried a folder to the table and set it down. “So, I have some good news. I think I may have found an apartment.” She pulled out the page and set it in front of me. “It’s supposed to be available in a week, but I talked to the owner and worked something out. He said I could reserve it.”

I took the paper and checked out the details. The place was nice enough, but it was farther away, an extra two blocks. It would take her twenty minutes to walk there and back every day. I shook my head and handed it back.

She looked at me blankly. “Deacon, it’s a nice place in a nice neighborhood.”

“It’s too far if you’re going to walk every day.”

“I don’t mind walking.”

“What about one of the buildings right next door?”

She stared at me for a while before she released a faint chuckle. “Deacon, I could never afford one of those places.”

“Well, I know how much is taken out of my bank account every month for concierge services. There have to be hundreds of people who live in this building, and based on what I suspect your salary is now, you could negotiate much higher pay.”

She stared at me blankly, as if she didn’t follow my suggestion.

“When was the last time you got a raise?” I never asked about her finances because I’d be annoyed if she ever asked about mine, but I wanted her to have everything she deserved. I’d be happy to buy her a place, to take care of her completely, but I knew she was independent and preferred to stand on her own two feet. It was one of the reasons I respected her, loved her. I liked that she didn’t need me for every little thing. It made me realize she liked me for me—no other reason.

“Uh…” She brought her hands together on the table. “A couple years ago.”

“And how much was it?”

“I think five percent…”

I’d been working for myself since I graduated so I didn’t know all the procedures for negotiating raises, but I knew she had a lot more power than she realized. “Matt and Anna are nice, but they are nothing compared to you. You’re the one running the show. You’re the one who makes this building so appealing. You work late hours, weekends, and never make mistakes. You could ask for a much higher salary.”