Page 22 of Beautiful Deception

The only reason I’m not freaking out is because Dr. Kian prepared me a cup of herbal tea, which is now sitting cold on the floor with three millimeters of liquid remaining. Every time he makes me a cup, he tells me what the herbs do, and I appreciate his attention to detail and consent while dealing with me being so vulnerable.

“You guys are…” Joe mutters, his finger darting between the three of us as he tries to wrap his head around the assumption of our relationship.

There is no relationship. I’m Dr. Kian’s patient, and Remo’s the hired protection. I’m paying for both of their services, so it’s a strictly transactional connection.

“The thing with freedom, young man, is that it opens up endless possibilities.” Kimberly winks at Joe and plucks the yarn on her lap.

“How does that work?” Joe’s eyes sparkle with boyish inquisitiveness as he rests his chin on his forearm and gazes at me.

“It’s not what you think,” I deny as I wrap the blanket tighter around me.

The butler had prepared blankets for everyone to watch an old vampire film, a mood-stirring cinematic video with monochrome images. Junnie seems engrossed in the movie, but I’m about to doze off.

The herbal tea has the unfortunate side effect of making me tired. I’ve gotten enough sleep in the last few days to make up for weeks of not sleeping at home. That reminds me, I need to get the purchase link from Dr. Kian. It’ll help when the inevitable nightmares come, and I won’t have to phone him every time one occurs.

Maintaining the professional line requires effort on both sides. I know I’ve been overstepping my bounds by calling him late at night, but when I wake up in a cold sweat, my mind is overstimulated and in need of comfort.

There were times when I considered switching therapists or even starting medication, but my parents insisted that Dr. Kian was the best option for me.

He’s the person to talk to when someone has trouble. His name circulates around the elite circles, and he has a reputation for keeping secrets until he is forced by law to name the skeletons.

“Does that mean we can join?” Joe asks bluntly, his expression filled with forthright naivety.

“We?” Kimberly sputters as Junnie recites the same tune of bewilderment.

“More people, the merrier!”

Nobody knows how to explain it to a college-aged young man about non-monogamy relationships. He should know it, or at least have heard about it from others and on the internet.

“It’s complicated,” Kimberly says, attempting to redirect the conversation.

Eventually, Joe drops the topic when the film gets to the pinnacle scene. I shudder at the image created in my head, and I refuse to see myself in the middle of the two men and Joe.

Even though this is our first meeting, Joe reminds me of a neighborly child I saw growing up.

I look over my shoulder and inadvertently meet Dr. Kian’s doting smile as he leans his cheek on his hand. But Remo has vanished.

The door is slightly ajar, meaning he left without anyone noticing and didn’t make a sound. Neither Joe nor Kimberly saw him leave when they were turned in their seats. Remo is a large man, yet with the harmony of deadly strength and serendipitous grace to blend into the darkness.

A ghostly presence that’s akin to a haunting embrace in the hours of darkness, each touch painful and unwanted.

His physique is comparable to that of Dr. Kian. I hadn’t noticed it in the past because his outfits were always meticulously fitted to make him appear slimmer than the massive muscles rippling beneath the dark shirt. Once he’s wearing less formal attire, Dr. Kian is a mountain of tormenting control and warped secrecy.

“I’m going to bed,” I announce briskly.

Joe and Kimberly wave with their attention glued to the projected images. Junnie takes my hand and gives it a comforting squeeze while also focusing on the film. Dr. Kian’s eyes follow every movement I make as I place the blanket on the armchair.

He bids a subtle nod. It’s well-meaning and serves as permission to use his bedroom. He and Remo offered their rooms to me, knowing I’d rather sleep in the fluorescent dining room than step another foot into my bedroom. Junnie is taken care of because the butler has cleaned a new room for her.

Who am I to decline such a perfect offer?

Due to the nature of their occupations, they most likely extensively examined their rooms. So I feel much more secure in their rooms since everyone knows who has which room.

I strain my ears to hear murmured noises as I follow the corridor lamps, wary of my feet snagging on the long carpeting. They sound like muffles or groans but are too low to tell.

My heart lurches at the thoughts of bloodied skin stretching over a white slash of teeth, tendrils of luminescent wiry fingers, and an infestation of eldritch wails. The illusory horror decays, but the vicious vessel persists.

“I’m sorry,” Peter gurgles, his tongue thick with clumsiness as he staggers toward me. “Didn’t mean to.”

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