Page 81 of Doubts of the Egoist (Egoist #3)

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 to the 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 man lounging 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.

His cheeks flushed and muscles tensed as he realized everyone in the room knew exactly what had happened behind those doors.

He was glad he’d thrown on his jersey, and now they couldn’t see the marks on his body.

His imagination ran wild, making him feel observed, dissected, and on display.

Either Yugo’s concerns were sinking in, or he had gotten into Kuon’s head and planted those thoughts again.

Kuon didn’t know. He hated the paranoia overtaking his mind but didn’t know how to stop it.

He lowered his chin, glaring at everyone from beneath his short lashes.

As his gaze flicked from Yugo to his partners and back, he found it symbolic that only Greg stood at Yugo’s side while the others faced him across the desk.

Though typical for an office, it made him realize almost everyone in the room was connected to Yugo’s past. Almost everyone here was connected to the Santelli family and could have been involved in the massacre.

Yugo had been active in Vienna for years.

Why strike now? Could the shooting of Rick be a warning for Yugo to leave Sicily alone?

How many people knew about his plans to retake Sicily?

He dragged his gaze around, surely most of the men present did.

Could it be related to something else? Something he didn’t tell me?

Yugo has many secrets. Will have even more if I close the door and walk away.

Kuon hated it.

He could still leave, but a tiny thought kept stinging his mind. What if the next bullet is aimed at Yugo? He was now certain that Rick wasn’t the target, but rather collateral damage—a warning.

Those thoughts might have taken only a second because no one scowled at him for wasting time.

Greg caught his gaze and nodded, silently encouraging him to enter. It was as if he knew that if Kuon backed down, these jackals would see it as a sign of weakness. If he stayed, he couldn’t appear weak or insecure, not in front of them. Nor could he discredit Yugo by seeming disloyal.

No one would judge him if he left for good, but then he’d never find out who shot Rick. If he left, he might never see this asshole again.

Kuon looked at the Black Duke, wavering.

Can I forgive him? Can he forgive me? Can it really work out?

Yugo’s thin lips curled into a bitter smirk. His hand, resting on the desk, turned palm-up and reached forward. His ironic gaze suggested that he didn’t expect a miracle to happen, yet he still flipped his hand up. That tiny gesture—an outstretched invitation—settled Kuon’s mind.

Motherfucker, how do you always do this ? Kuon snorted, swallowed the lump in his throat, pushed his doubts aside, and stepped into Yugo’s world, displaying all the confidence he could muster, even though he didn’t feel it. Don’t make me regret it.

“Don’t call me that,” Kuon warned Tobias, nodded to the rest present, and crossed the room.

Without hesitation, he stood on Yugo’s right, balancing the power scales.

He didn’t touch the Black Duke, but what he did was enough to stretch a boyish grin across Yugo’s face.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important. ”

Yugo rose and, placing a hand on Kuon’s shoulder, murmured, “Gentlemen, let me introduce Kuon, my partner. Please, get comfortable around him because I want him by my side at all times.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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