Page 118 of Doubts of the Egoist
“I see your point, but…” Gustavo murmured, making a circular motion with his hand while further ruffling the fur. Yugo feared he’d soon leave a bald patch. “…I think you hang out with Tobias too much. Conspiracy theories like this are his specialty. The stars would have to favor Ahmad if he’s going to pull this off. It takes a young and strong leader to change history, and Ahmad is neither.”
Tobias barked a laugh, raised a hand, and said, “Plus one for Ahmad.”
“Excuse me?” Yugo’s fingers sank into the soft armrests as he leaned forward. “You were whining about them implementing Sharia law constantly, and you were directly asked to stop the madness. Now, when you’ve actually made this coup happen, you vote for Ahmad?”
“Well, I guess I changed my mind…” Tobias shrugged and grinned. Had Yugo not recently “hung out” with Tobias too much for his liking, he would have missed the rigid angle of his shoulders and the slightly sharp smile.
Yugo opened his mouth to confront, but the creaking door stole everyone’s attention.
Under the hostile, dissecting glares of six men, Kuon lowered his chin. The pink and brown scars on his pale face stood out sharply. A scowl tugged at his short, deformed brows as he examined each man present. His chin jerked to the side as instant regret and the need to retreat bled through his features.
Yugo’s chest tightened with suspicion. If he didn’t stop Kuon, he would turn on a dime and run away, leaving his office and mansion behind, along with Yugo.
The conversation they were about to have wasn’t meant for Kuon’s ears, and he didn’t trust the former detective to handle it well. However, if there was a chance to prevent Kuon from running away again, Yugo was willing to take the risk.
With little hope, he did the only thing he could, knowing all eyes were on them with prying curiosity. He flipped his palm up and moved it ever so slightly over the polished wood of the desk in a silent invitation.
CHAPTER 33
Kuon heard voices,both collective and individual. They entered his dreams, dissipating the thick red fog of fear and pain. Familiar yet unrecognizable, the voices seemed distant, as if from another dimension—distorted and meaningless, like the noise of wind or empty babble.
Then they took shape.
A strained laugh. A low growl. Loud footsteps. Laughter again. These disjointed sounds brought salvation from a sweat-soaked nightmare.
Using the wall for support, he pulled himself upright, feeling confused, dazed, and broken after an exhausting sleep. He licked his lips, tasting blood. His tongue found a new cut on his inner cheek. He must have bitten himself during sleep, but the pain hadn’t been strong enough to wake him.
Muffled words in a low, honeyed baritone reached him from somewhere down the corridor.
Yugo…Dream forgotten, he shot to his feet, yanked the door open, and strained his ears. Words drifted from the first floor, but none were comprehensible. His eavesdropping ended as the door slammed shut.
He swayed on his heels toward the staircase but glanced down before taking a step. Barefoot and shirtless, with scars and scabs on display, he cut quite a sight. His appearance didn’t bother him because, in this house, he didn’t care what anyone thought of him. Besides, he doubted anyone else looked at him with lewd eyes. Still, it bothered Yugo, so Kuon took a detour tothe bedroom, grabbed a jersey, and slipped on tennis shoes.
He lumbered down the stairs to Yugo’s office and yanked the door open.
Six pairs of eyes stabbed him with all sorts of curiosity. Kuon froze, unsure what to do, his heart racing. Fear and doubt consumed him once again.
He wanted to close the door and retreat into the shadows but suspected it was too late for that. Leaving now would not only seem creepy and weak, but it would also raise unnecessary interest in him.
He flicked his gaze from face to face.
“Hi, Puppy!” Tobias grinned, sitting in the middle of the room in front of Yugo, and lifted his hand to wave.
A redheaded man sat next to him. Though Kuon had only seen Rudolph Scarci in photos before, he needed no confirmation to recognize him. He had broad, plain features and a square, heavyset build. With a neatly styled beard and sharp eyes, Rudolph watched Kuon openly hostile.
A young man with elongated, foxy eyes and a stubble goatee leisurely leaned on the bar, stirring a whitish drink with … a pink lollipop?
Kuon blinked, certain his eyes were deceiving him. His vision must have distorted the object so much his mind overcompensated. But even after two more blinks, the lollipop didn’t vanish. He forced himself to look up. The man returned his gaze, no less intrusive than Kuon’s had been on his candy. The man likely had no idea who Kuon was, and his scars interested him far more than Kuon himself.
Skin crawling, Kuon turned to the black-haired manlounging on the couch. He knew this one well—Gustavo DeSilva, one of Yugo’s partners and a drug division executive. He showed no friendliness or hostility but examined Kuon with calm caution, as if unsure what to expect.
It’s a meeting, and I’m intruding…
Feeling like a sacrificial lamb beneath a crossroads of stares, he shifted from foot to foot. The men’s attention varied in intensity and intent, but only Greg radiated support and friendliness. Even Yugo watched Kuon with ironic mistrust.
Kuon frowned, unsure how to leave. Entering would mean officially changing his status from bedwarmer to lover, which, in his mind, was no different.
He winced, cursing his luck. This was happening too soon. He hadn’t yet decided whether to give Yugo another chance, let alone face his partners and their curiosity. He was even less prepared to let the world know he sucked Yugo’s dick or to endure their speculation about what else the Black Duke did with the former police detective behind closed doors.
