The Boy Who Has No Redemption (Soulless 8)

When I went into the warehouse to deliver lunch, I noticed Derek wasn’t in the main room. It was just Jerome and Pierre. The other day, Derek hadn’t been there either. He seemed to be spending time in the other warehouses, probably overseeing other projects. “I got Chinese.”

“Sweet.” Jerome walked over and took his container. “Ever since you started bringing lunch, I’ve gained ten pounds. Am I sad about it? Nope.” He chuckled then grabbed a fork so he could devour his lunch.

Pierre came over too and grabbed his tray of food.

I glanced around and saw that Derek was actually nowhere around. “Should I put this in the fridge for him, or will he be back soon?”

“Who?” Jerome asked. “Derek?”

“Yeah.” I put his box of food back in the bag.

“He’s not here today,” Jerome said.

“He’s only here two days a week now.” Jerome spun his fork in the noodles before placing them in his mouth.

“Oh.” I’d assumed he was working in other locations. I had no idea he physically wasn’t on the premises. “Why?”

Jerome shrugged. “No idea. We never ask him anything, and he never shares information with us. Just how it goes. There will be a list of instructions and schematics sent via email in the morning, so he’s working from home, it seems like.”

So he wouldn’t have to see me? That seemed cowardly. “Is he okay?”

Jerome shrugged. “Who knows with that guy? He seems the same.”

“Same asshole he’s always been.” Pierre pushed his food around with his fork before he got a good piece.

My instinct was to defend Derek, but this time, I didn’t. He was an asshole. Case closed. “He’s only here Tuesdays and Thursdays, then?”

“Yeah,” Jerome said.

“How long has this been going on?” I went out of my way to avoid him, so I hadn’t noticed his absence.

“About two weeks,” Pierre said. “Maybe three.”

That was before he even tried to apologize to me. “It’s not like Derek to take a leave of absence like that.”

Jerome shrugged. “No. But it’s none of our business, right?”

“Yeah,” Pierre said. “That’s only for friends to know, and we know he doesn’t have any of those.”

The internship program was taking a lot longer than either one of us intended.

Selecting the candidates was difficult, because Derek ran so hot and cold. Sometimes, he was heavily involved, and other times, he wouldn’t respond to my emails. He was back to being unpredictable and unresponsive.

I sent him one final email.

To:

Subject: Selection of Candidates

Derek, I’m going to select the forty candidates myself because we’re already behind schedule. This should have been completed two weeks ago, and I have candidates blowing up my inbox asking for their status as the deadline has long since come and gone.

I sent it off and then looked through the pile, pulling people that I personally liked based on their letters. When everyone was equally smart, the only thing that made them stand out was their personalities, and I believed a good attitude was far more valuable than perfect grades.

Fifteen minutes later, Derek let himself into my office. Or…his office. It felt like my office because he never used this place unless it was for an overflow of paperwork he didn’t know where else to put.

I looked up and saw him in a black t-shirt and dark jeans, his frame more muscular than it used to be because he seemed to be working out more than he used to. Now that he was fucking supermodels again, he probably had to be in the greatest shape of his life. Shallow jackass. When I first saw the photos of him and Fleur, along with all the other girls he was photographed with, I cried…and cried…and cried. Even now, it still left a bad taste in my mouth. It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t possessiveness. It was just…disappointing. None of them cared about him, not the way I did. But he replaced me with a woman ten years younger, just like every other rich asshole did with their women. “Derek, an email would suffice.” We could get this finalized over email. No reason to sit in the same office where we’d had our last fight.

He sat in the chair across from me, his eyes slightly down and on the surface of my desk. His hands came together, and he absentmindedly rubbed them against each other, massaging his knuckles like he used to when he was deep in thought. “It’s an important decision.”

“Important decision, huh?” Not like deciding to dump the woman you said you would marry in a stairwell—much more important than that. “Derek, this is your program, so you make the final call.” I opened the drawer of my desk and set the folder in front of me. “Give me the list of names, and I’ll do everything else.”

He grabbed the folder and pulled it toward him. He opened it and started to leaf through it.