The Man Who Has No Heart (Soulless 2)

This wasn’t the time to have an intimate conversation, but my concern got the best of me. I came to his side. “What’s wrong?”

He kept his gaze out the window.

I hated his coldness. It was so icy when I’d first received it, and I didn’t want to feel that frost ever again. I preferred his warmth, his chocolate-colored eyes, the way he relaxed around me when he was stern around everyone else.

My hand went to his arm instinctively, my fingers gripping the large muscles of his frame, touching him like I had every right to do so.

His body tightened at the contact, his jaw clenching at the same time. But then he closed his eyes and released the breath he was holding, slowly relaxing, like my touch brought him back to reality, away from the demons that haunted him.

“Deacon.” I gently tugged on him, slowly turning him so he would look at me.

His eyes moved to my face, ice-cold and brooding. He kept the expression for a few seconds, like he hated me. But then slowly, his gaze began to soften, and he looked at me with his usual warmth, like the sight of my face was enough to chase away his despair.

“Talk to me.” I knew something had really gotten to him. It wasn’t just his mother’s presence in his residence or an error that happened at work. It was something that affected him on an emotional level.

“Tucker and I had a fight…”

“About?”

He didn’t answer me.

“Well, I’m sure you two will work it out.”

He pulled his arm away from my grasp and bowed his head. “Our relationship is fine. I just didn’t like the conversation.”

“You can tell me about it.”

He shook his head and looked out the window again.

I turned my gaze to the view too. “How are things with your mother?”

Her voice could be heard on the other side of the apartment. “Oh my god, these countertops…”

“They’re fine,” he answered. “She talks a lot.”

I smiled. “It sounds like she likes the place, so she won’t be with you long.”

“Yeah.”

After they were done, they came back into the living room.

“Alright, let’s do it,” Margo said. “It’s the perfect size for me, it’s close to both of my sons, and that view!”

Deacon turned away from the window and walked toward his mother.

“You like it, honey?” She rubbed his arm up and down.

“Yes,” he answered. “But your opinion is the only one that matters.”

She gave him a side hug, a foot shorter than him, like she was hugging the trunk of a powerful tree. “I have the best kids. This one is letting me live with him until I get settled. Isn’t that sweet?”

“It is,” Lily said. “You have a great son.”

“I do.” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

I smiled at the interaction.

Deacon accepted the affection, plastering on a fake smile.

“So, let’s do it.” Margo pulled away. “I don’t want to let this place slip through my fingers.”

I didn’t see Deacon for days, so I never had a chance to talk to him about what had happened. I suspected if we were alone, the conversation would have gone much deeper, down to the root of the problem.

Because he told me everything.

Since his mother was staying with him, I decided to deliver fresh flowers to the residence without asking Deacon’s permission. It was only temporary, and he might change his mind now that he was more comfortable with me.

I set the vase on the coffee table, beautiful white lilies accompanied by blush roses and green hydrangeas.

His footsteps sounded down the hallway.

I turned the flowers on the coaster, making them perfect before I straightened.

He was in his sweatpants without a shirt.

I assumed that meant he was alone. “I thought your mother might like these while she’s here.”

He stared for a second before he sat at the dining table.

I carried a second vase to the center of the dining table, which wasn’t in his way.

He didn’t complain.

“Where is she?”

“With the designer.” He was a little cold to me, but he must have realized it, because he turned away from his laptop and looked at me. “She’ll like the flowers.”

“I think so too.” I grabbed the stems and adjusted them, making sure they were perfect. “Maybe you’ll change your mind about having them in the condo when she’s gone.”

“No.”

I waited for an explanation.

“Valerie used to have flowers in the house. They make me think of her.”

Now I understood.

He turned back to his computer.

“How are you?”

He didn’t stare at his computer for long. His attention was back on me, his jaw showing some stubble, his hair getting a little long, like he needed a haircut. “Fine.”

“We didn’t really have a chance to talk the other day. I wanted to make sure you’re feeling better.” I moved into the chair across from him, studying his gaze, analyzing his mood. It was such an abrupt flare-up that I wasn’t sure how to handle it.