The Boy Who Has No Faith (Soulless 5)

He considered my words for a long time, his body rigid and still, his eyes hardly ever needing to blink. His hand eventually moved to his jawline, and his fingers moved across the skin and stubble as he contemplated the suggestion. “Alright…let’s do it.”

Five

Derek

My day passed in a blur.

I woke up at dawn, got my workout in since it was literally the only time I had all day, scarfed down some eggs that I scrambled in a pan, and then headed to the lab at the edge of the city. Five years ago, I purchased the closed airport at a good price and built my company on top of it, because it was the perfect location to do my work. But it felt like I was only there for five minutes before I returned to the city and NYU to teach my class. I had my office hours directly afterward so I could work with my students, and since all of them always attended, it made an hour class actually two hours. Then I was back in the car, agitated by the traffic that never went away unless it was four in the morning, and headed back to the lab, through the tunnel and into New Jersey. After working there for a few hours that actually felt like the blink of an eye, I realized it was time to head home since Emerson was coming over. I’d skipped lunch because it didn’t even cross my mind—that was how busy I was.

When I made it back to the penthouse and stepped out of the elevator, I saw all the text messages Fleur had sent my phone.

Babe?

Stop by on your way home.

Miss you.

I want you so bad right now…

I didn’t have time to address any of it, so I returned my phone to my pocket and entered my penthouse.

Then my phone started to ring.

I pulled it out, prepared to be furious if I had to look at Fleur’s name on the screen. But it was Emerson. I usually ghosted her calls, but I answered this time.

“Hello?” she asked hesitantly since I didn’t say anything.

“Yeah?”

“It would be helpful if you said something when you answered the phone.”

I stayed quiet, just to be a dick.

“Look, I’m at the grocery store. I was going to make grilled chicken with white rice. Is that okay?”

That sounded pretty good, actually. “Sure.”

“Alright. Be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Door is unlocked. I need to shower.” I hung up.

I got into the shower and rinsed off quickly before I got dressed again and entered my living room.

Emerson was there, having set up a huge whiteboard on an easel, with markers on the table. She had also placed a couple notebooks on the table. She sat at the dining table and scribbled something in one of her books, her curled brown hair over one shoulder. She had bright blue eyes that almost didn’t look natural, an almond shape that made them seem feline. I’d never seen eyes like that before. When she noticed I was in the room, she turned to me. “Chicken is in the oven, and the rice is in the rice cooker. Let’s get started on the outline, and when your fingers are hitting the keyboard, I’ll take care of something else for you.”

I walked through the kitchen on the way to the dining room. That was when I noticed my stack of dishes was no longer in the sink. The dishwasher was on, so she’d done a chore that I despised. I opened the fridge. “You want a beer?”

“No. I’ve got water.”

I carried my beer to the dining table and took a seat in front of my computer.

She didn’t look at me. She didn’t ask how my day was. No small talk at all. She got right to business.

Which I liked.

“So, let me jog your memory a bit—”

“I read the last book this week.”

“Perfect.” She uncapped one of the markers and stood at the whiteboard. “Here are our three sets of characters.” She drew lines down the middle of the whiteboard, separating the storylines. “We’ve got Commander Rodney with his fleet here.” She marked it on the whiteboard. “Corina, the assassin, over here.” She marked it. “And then we’ve got Brutus and the army here. I know you like to stick to themes of revenge and betrayal, and I think the characters are pretty set in their ways at this point. It would be a good idea to grow their story arcs at this point in the series. Do you have any ideas?”

I stared at the whiteboard for a few seconds, thinking. It was easier for me to visualize the story with that whiteboard, because I used a whiteboard in my office for all the calculations I had to do over and over until I got them right. “Brutus will successfully land on the pulsar star and harvest the energy before it collapses.”