The Man Who Has No Heart (Soulless 2)

“I just want to talk about us.” I’d known she would be pissed, but I hadn’t anticipated that wrath. She immediately went after the one thing I cared about, holding him hostage like he was leverage—not a fucking person.

She turned quiet right away, as if I’d said the one thing she wanted to talk about.

“Look…I’m sorry I blew up at you.” I didn’t mean a fucking word of it. Sometimes I wished I could be like other men, just forget about their kid and move on, but I really loved my son…so fucking much. I wanted to be a father, to provide for him, spend time with him…watch him grow into a man. “I thought we were building a new relationship, and then you caught me off guard.”

“Building a new relationship?”

“As friends. As partners. Valerie, I want us to get along.” I would never consider her a friend. She was just the uterus that grew my son.

“Don’t friends ask each other stuff?”

Yes. But they didn’t interrogate each other about who they slept with. Her questions weren’t caused by mere curiosity. She had an agenda. It was so fucking obvious, and not just because she’d threatened my girl.

I wished Cleo had punched her in the face.

“Yes,” I finally answered. “But I think it’s best if we leave our personal lives out of the conversation. I’m sure you’ve moved on, but I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Then don’t ask,” she said simply. “But Cleo is making a big impression on our son, and I deserve to know what her purpose is in his life.”

She didn’t give a damn. If she really cared about being a good mother, she would do a lot of things differently. Sometimes I wondered if she really loved him or she just used him as a pawn. I tried not to believe that, because it would kill me. I wanted her to love our son the way I did…because Derek deserved that. “I’ve already told you Cleo is my personal assistant. She’s the woman who runs my life. She’s the one who helped me buy the cabin, who set up the cabin, and who does a million things for me in between. She helps me with Derek too, getting the things he needs when I’m busy working. She’s great with him.” It made me sick to describe her like that, like she was just some servant…not family. When the three of us were together, it felt right, like it’d always been the three of us. I wanted to be honest, to say that Cleo was the best thing that ever happened to me, that she was slowly erasing the hidden scars that no one could see.

“And you aren’t sleeping with her?”

My hand tightened into a fist. “I don’t understand the question, Valerie. You said you deserve to know who’s spending time with your son. Cleo is spending a lot of time with your son. Whether she’s fucking me or not doesn’t change their interaction.”

“Why won’t you answer the question?”

I hated lying. It was the most unnatural thing in the world. I actually had to force my brain to override the urge, because lying was a direct contradiction to nature, data, purpose. And it was even harder since I didn’t want to hide my commitment because it was so disloyal to Cleo. “No.”

Valerie was quiet, knowing I never lied, but probably still suspicious.

“But she means a lot to me.” I couldn’t pretend she meant nothing to me. I just couldn’t. “She brings Derek back and forth, organizes all our activities, gets all the gear for our fishing trips… She makes these memories possible.”

She was quiet.

“She’s my friend…a good friend.” When Valerie came to visit, I couldn’t hide our closeness, couldn’t hide the way we interacted. I had to explain. Otherwise, it would be immediately obvious I was lying. She knew how I was with people…like I hated everyone. An affectionate and close relationship with Cleo would be a red flag. “I’m tired of talking about her. The reason I called is because I wanted to invite the two of you to Manhattan for a few days. I thought we could spend time with Derek, as a family, because he starts school…”

Instead of rejecting it right away, she aww’d into the phone. “That’s sweet…”

I effectively got her to stop thinking about Cleo and move on. “My treat.” Of course, it was my treat. It was always my fucking treat. “We could go to the zoo, have dinner, lots of fun stuff.”

“Go to the cabin?”

I would never, ever take her there. Over my dead fucking body. “Maybe.” That place was a safe haven, where I spent time with my son and the woman who had cleansed my soul and made it pure once again. “Is that a yes?”

“I do love the city…”