The Doctor Who Has No Ambition (Soulless 9)

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Let’s do it, girl.”

Once the party was in full swing, we faded into the background. Cleo kept the show running smoothly by directing people, giving our client information about the other guests in his ear, kept everyone on schedule, so he didn’t have to think twice about it. Sometimes she would give us orders to do things, and we sprang into action.

I was standing in the rear, watching everything unfold, when Dex came over with a glass of champagne. “You look like you could use a drink.”

I took the flute and gave him a smile. “Are we allowed to drink on the job?”

“Allowed?” He tilted his head back and let the bubbles slide into his mouth. “We’re encouraged to drink.” He gently tapped his glass against mine. “Bottoms up.”

I took a drink then licked my lips. “Ooh, I can tell this is some expensive shit.”

“Oh yeah, it’s smooth.” He took another drink then stood there with one hand in the pocket of his pants. He was in slacks and a collared shirt with a tie, his musculature even more obvious than usual. He carried his strong body with perfect posture, and he was easily the most handsome man in the room, the ladies staring at him as they passed. “So, you doing okay? I saw that mom hug earlier.”

“Mom hug?”

“When Cleo does that, I know she’s in mom mode.”

“She’s given you a mom hug?”

He chuckled before he took another drink. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“I just had some drama right before I came here, and she could tell something was bothering me. We had a job to do and we were on a time crunch, but she stopped what she was doing to talk to me. How many people are like that?”

He shook his head. “She’s one of a kind.”

“And she’s my boss. If anything, she should be pissed that I don’t have my shit together.”

“Yeah, but she’s a good boss, not an asshole boss. She’s the kind of person that constantly looks out for other people. It’s like her personal responsibility to take care of other people. I don’t know, but that’s just how she is.”

“Sounds like she’s an angel or something.”

“A saint, really.” He continued to scan the party in case something was needed. “I don’t mean to pry, but do you want to talk about it?”

I hardly knew the guy, but I’d liked him from the moment we met, and it already seemed like he was my friend. I was instantly comfortable with him, and I already knew he wouldn’t judge me for what I was about to say. “I was seeing this guy for a while, and last weekend, I thought he was going to propose. Instead, he told me he was married and intended to leave his wife for me.”

He slowly turned his head to look at me, the shocked expression on his face conveying every thought he had through silence.

“Yeah…”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

I shook my head. “I told him I wanted nothing to do with him, but he showed up at my apartment tonight to talk to me again. I told him to fuck off.” I looked forward and drank from my champagne, needing the booze more than before. “I feel so stupid for not knowing. And I feel sick that I was the other woman. I hate liars and cheaters, and his excuse is that they have two kids and it’s just hard… It made me hate him. Like, hate him, hate him. Sometimes, you meet really good people in the world, like Cleo and you guys, and then you meet someone like that, and you question everything.”

He was quiet, looking down slightly, his mood visibly dark. His buoyant attitude and perpetual playfulness were a thing of the past now. He let the silence continue and didn’t say a word.

“Anyway, it’s over now.”

He stayed quiet, not moving at all.

I started to feel self-conscious, like he did think less of me. “Cleo told me I didn’t know…so I need to let it go.”

“You know what I think?” He lifted his head abruptly then downed the rest of his champagne. “I think you dodged a bullet for a couple reasons. One, he’s a piece of shit. And two, marriage is overrated—as that asshole just proved. I think the world would be a better place if fewer people got married. People keep on thinking it’s all butterflies and fucking rainbows, but it’s a test of character and strength, and most people don’t have what it takes. They’re weak. Fucking weak.”

His personality had flipped like he was bipolar, turning into a guy I didn’t even recognize. There was so much anger, so much rage, that it seemed like he was talking about something else altogether. All I could do was stare because I didn’t know what else to do. What the hell did I say to that?