The Man Who Has No Heart (Soulless 2)

That kind of trust meant the world to me, to see someone so hard become so soft with me, to share his darkest secret without fear of retribution. “It might take some time to get Valerie to come around, but if we play our cards right, we can make it happen. Now that we’ve gotten Derek here once, I’m sure Valerie will let me get him again. And this time, maybe he can stay longer…for a couple weeks.”

“I hope so. A weekend wasn’t long enough.”

“A lifetime isn’t long enough…not when it comes to the people you love.”

He watched me, a slight smile moving onto his lips.

I stared at him for a while, admiring his sculpted shoulders, the muscles in his neck, the way he looked at me. It was easy to get lost in those brown eyes, to be comfortable with that level of profound intimacy.

He was the one to break eye contact. “Tucker told me you stopped seeing each other.”

I hadn’t thought about him since he’d left my apartment. It never felt right, but I’d tried to force it to be right, tried to feel something I was incapable of feeling. “We agreed to be friends. You don’t need to worry about it being weird when we’re in a room together.” Tucker took my rejection so well, like it wasn’t personal at all. It made me realize his jokes and humor were just an aspect of his personality, but underneath that, he was much more mature than he let people realize.

Deacon was quiet.

He’d never asked me about Tucker when we were together, so I was surprised he asked now that we were apart.

“May I ask why?”

That wasn’t a question I expected him to ask—at all. I didn’t even know how to answer it, what the real reason was. It just wasn’t right. “Tucker is a great guy. He’s funny, interesting, kind…but he just wasn’t the right person for me.”

He continued to stare at his hands.

It was quiet for a long time, but not in a comfortable way. Instead, it was tense. He seemed to be thinking. There was that energy filling the room around him the way it did when he stared at his laptop on the dining table—as if he was intently focused on something outside the conversation.

After a few minutes passed, he turned to me. “When are you free for dinner?”

It took me a second to process the change in subject. “Deacon, you don’t have to do that—”

“You’re always taking care of other people. I’d like to take care of you.”

This man made me melt more and more. “I hope you understand I do things for you because I want to, not because I expect anything in return.”

“I do know that. Now I want to do something for you—and I don’t expect anything in return either.”

Three

Deacon

After my driver dropped me off from work the next night, I walked into the lobby and headed past the elevator. The office where Cleo and the rest of the staff were located was in the rear, in a large space with desks, monitors, and couches. I went there now, glad Cleo wasn’t there.

Matt sat at the desk. “How can I help you, Mr. Hamilton?”

“Is Cleo here?”

“No. She’s usually so busy doing errands that she’s rarely at her desk. I can call her for you—”

“No.”

Matt went rigid.

I missed talking to Cleo. I was so bad at this. “Actually, I wanted to do something nice for her…and wanted to know if you have any recommendations.”

“Ugh…” He pressed his lips tightly together as he considered it. “I have to think about it.”

“What do the other clients get her?”

“Nothing,” he said with a chuckle. “Barely a thank-you.”

I was an asshole like everyone else in the building. “She runs my life so well that I wanted to do something to make hers easier.”

“Well, she always complains about never having time to take care of her place, to do the dishes, laundry, stuff like that, since she’s always here.”

When I’d stopped by her place, I’d noticed how uncomfortable she was, as if she didn’t want me there. Her place wasn’t what I expected because it was so disorganized. There were papers scattered everywhere, clothes on the floor, the dishes were piled to the top of the sink. It didn’t seem like her personality to be that way, so once Matt said that, it all made sense. If I weren’t rich, I’d have to do those things myself too, and since I was so focused on my work, I’d probably never get around to it. “Could I pay for her to have a housekeeper?”

“Like, every week?” he asked in surprise. “Or just a one-time thing?”

“Weekly.” She worked all week and did stuff for me on the weekends. She literally had no time to take care of herself.

“Wow…that’s really nice of you.”