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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“Alright.”

“Is he keeping his place there?”

“No. He sold it.”

“Oh…sorry, Jeremiah.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “He gave me a great recommendation, and I’ve got a new job lined up. I’ll still be working for him remotely, but I’m sure he’ll get a new assistant at some point.”

It would probably be my job to find them. “Oh, that’s great.”

“And, Cleo, I won’t say anything bad about my client, but I want you to have a heads-up…”

I could handle anything. “Lay it on me.”

“He’s a bit rough around the edges. Short-tempered. Rude. Hostile. But he’s just going through a hard time. His marriage and divorce really fucked him up. He used to be a pretty cool guy…a long time ago.”

I didn’t know the guy, but I already felt bad for him. The world had chewed him up and spat him back out. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Good luck, Cleo.”

“Thanks, Jeremiah.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

I looked up from my desk when a woman approached me, someone I didn’t recognize as one of the tenants. She was in her late forties, so thin she looked like she ran a marathon every day. Her skin was leathery and tanned, so she probably was a runner. “Decorator is here. Got to go.” I hung up and got to my feet to shake her hand. “Hello, I’m Cleo. I just got off the phone with Jeremiah.”

“Diane.” She dropped her hand quickly, clearly anxious to get to work right away because she was aware of the deadline. “I don’t have much time to pull this off, so let’s get to it. Show me the space.”

Two

Cleo

There were twenty men working all day, carrying heavy pieces of furniture into the apartment and setting them up in every single room. Diane was there too, supplying the accent pieces and placing them on the mantel, the coffee table, and everywhere else.

It wasn’t my job to do this, but I worked in the kitchen and put all the dishes away, stacked them in the cupboards, checked to make sure the appliances were working properly. My phone rang in my pocket.

It was Jeremiah.

I put my earbuds in my ears and took the call. “Hey, Jeremiah.”

“He’s halfway there. So, you’ve got about three hours before his plane touches down.”

I looked across the room and watched the men adjust the cream-colored couches on his dark rug, a man behind them hanging up a moody picture of a dark ocean wave. “Wow…that’s cutting it close.”

“How far along are you?”

“Uh…it’s fucking pandemonium right now, so I really don’t know.”

“Well, this is probably a bad time to mention it, but he’s going to want the kitchen stocked.”

I groaned. “Yeah, that would have been helpful a few hours ago…”

“He just called me from the plane.”

“Does he know what he wants?”

“He’s pretty vague.”

Those were the worst kinds of clients. “You’re gonna have to help me out, Jeremiah. What does he like to eat? What are his habits?”

“He’s a fit guy, so he probably doesn’t eat frozen pizza.”

“How fit are we talking?”

“You know, six percent body fat kind of thing.”

“Okay. Is he a vegan? Vegetarian?”

“No. I know that.”

“Alright. I’ll make a list and hope for the best.”

“Great. I’ll let you know when he’s in the car and on the way to you.”

“Okay.”

I hung up then called Matt, who was downstairs in the office.

“What do you need?” he asked the second he answered.

“Groceries. Like, right now.”

“Alright, I can do that.” He turned his mouth away from the receiver. “Anna, we need a run to the supermarket.”

“I can do it in twenty minutes,” she said in the background.

He came back to me. “Text me a list.”

“Alright, thanks.”

“Is this for 32C?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“Already sounds like a diva.”

“A bit. And his PA told me he’s a dick.”

“Greeeaaaat.”

“I gotta go.” I hung up and got back to work. “Diane, he’ll be here in three hours.”

“Oh Jesus,” she said. “It is going to be a miracle if we pull this off…”

I stood in the entryway, in a new outfit because my other got soiled getting his residence ready. It was a cold evening, the sun gone and the chilly breeze making everyone hug their coats tighter.

I was in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, my phone in my grasp because Jeremiah would let me know once he was about to pull up. Our doorman was ready, in a black suit, and Matt was there too, prepared to grab his luggage and transport it.

My heart was beating fast.

Matt glanced at me, in slacks and a collared shirt. “Nervous?”

“I’m always nervous the first time I meet a client.” I was in my late twenties, so most people didn’t take me seriously when we first met. I always had to win them over, and that took a long time. Matt was a few years older than me, always ready to clear the air with a sarcastic remark.



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