The Man Who Has No Soul (Soulless 1)

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? You don’t strike me as a waffle kind of guy.”

“There’s nothing I really want, so I just decided to get the best bad thing.”

The waitress came over and took our orders.

“I’ll have the strawberry waffle with scrambled eggs and bacon,” she said. “He’ll have the same thing. I’ll take an orange juice too.”

The waitress turned to me.

“Water,” I answered.

She walked away.

I knew she’d ordered for me because I hated talking to people, but I didn’t need someone to hold my hand like a child. But when I considered what she’d done at that award ceremony, I knew it was the same thing. She was just trying to make my life easier—and I couldn’t get angry about it. I let it go.

The drinks were placed in front of us.

Cleo took a long drink. “I love fresh-squeezed orange juice, especially when it’s chilled like this.”

I drank my water, my stomach growling.

“Assuming we can close escrow in a month, when will you take your first trip up there?”

I shrugged. “Not sure. I’m going to be busy for the next few weeks.”

“What are you working on?”

“Patient care.”

“Ooh…” She nodded like she was interested.

“I just started clinical trials on something I’ve been working on. These patients signed up for it.”

“How do you feel about the treatment?”

“I’m optimistic, but I’m also realistic. It won’t help all of them. But I’ll be happy if it helps one of them.”

She nodded. “Is that the part of your job you dislike? When it doesn’t help people?”

I’d been confronted by patients who broke down in tears when I told them my attempt didn’t work. I remained stoic as they gave in to the sobs of their heartbreak. It was difficult to listen to, but it didn’t get to me either. “I always do my best to help people, everything I possibly can to prolong their life or cure them. And if it doesn’t work…I just remind myself I did everything I could. It helps me sleep at night.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly on my face, with that hint of emotion she sometimes showed. “You’re only human.”

I nodded.

“Superhuman…but human.”

I took a drink of my water and looked out the window. It was hard to leave the countryside to return to the polluted air that was slowly killing us all. No air filter could pull all the toxins out of my residence. “How are things with you?” I never asked those kinds of questions even if they were a component of social decorum. They just didn’t come naturally to me. But I asked her because I was interested in her response.

She sighed before she spoke. “Busy. I’m helping a client plan a Met gala. It’s in a few weeks, but her budget is enormous, so it’s quite the spectacle.”

“So, you literally do everything?” I didn’t realize party planning was part of her job description, but real estate acquisition didn’t seem to be either.

She nodded. “Literally.”

“I underestimated you.” When we’d first met, I’d assumed she was a stupid girl who couldn’t handle me, that she was too young to understand a client who was so different from her. But she understood me better than anyone else. If people didn’t know me, they didn’t take me seriously either, because my age didn’t match my extent of accomplishments.

“I know.” She smiled, being playful but not arrogant. “But that’s how most clients are unless someone they know defends my credibility. I don’t mind a challenge, though, so it’s fine. I don’t take it personally.”

I didn’t take anything personally either.

The waitress brought our food quickly, probably because there was no one else in the restaurant.

“Wow, this looks good.” She rubbed her hands together. “I haven’t had breakfast like this in a long time.”

There was no way she could keep that waistline if she ate food like this regularly, so I knew she had a strict diet or just didn’t eat much. She was probably too busy for large meals, just as I was.

She grabbed her plastic container of syrup and dumped it on everything.

I took a few bites, enjoying it more than I’d thought I would.

“What do you think?”

“Not bad.”

She cut into her waffle and stabbed it with a fork, along with a few strawberries, and placed it into her mouth. “I think it’s delicious.” She kept her gaze down as she ate, focusing on her food instead of me.

I picked at pieces but spent most of my time staring at her, noticing how slender her neckline was. She was really petite, a waist I could grasp with both hands. She was always in heels so I wasn’t sure what her natural height was, but I imagined she would be five feet in flats. She was small…but she made up for her size with her authority, her presence. I found myself staring at her most of the time we were together, something about her features bringing me comfort, stimulating me when most faces barely registered in my brain. I’d met the same person dozens of times because I couldn’t bring myself to care about their name or their face. But I remembered hers down to the last detail.