Chapter 20

Kurt would not lie if he said that he barely survived until Friday. Exactly at nine in the evening, he came to John's house and hastily passed through the garden. Now the smell of roses seemed special to him; it woke obscure memories and didn't leave his heart indifferent.

Kurt noted with surprise that all his melancholy and confusion had dissipated, and he felt only joyful anticipation. This feeling grew with every step he took through the garden and reached its zenith when he spotted John on the stairs. For a few seconds, Kurt stopped, allowing his heart to revel in joy. Once again, he felt the sweet languor, and at that moment, he realized why he had been so irritable all these days, why he had been consumed by confusion. It was as if he had suffered from a debilitating hunger or thirst, and now he had finally quenched it. After realizing this, Kurt's joy died down. But his heart kept cheering.

The appearance of John at such an early time promised something unusual. When Kurt caught up with him, he noticed that John was in a very good mood, which immediately made Kurt suspicious.

"Finally!" John slapped Kurt's shoulder. "I've been waiting for you! This evening will be great!" John smiled predatorily. "Interesting, that I can promise you for sure."

Trying to cope with his trembling heart, Kurt painted an expression of mild surprise and interest on his face. In fact, he was consumed by curiosity and anxiety. John's promise could not bode anything good.

"What will it be?" Kurt asked as calmly as possible and looked the guests around. They all seemed so alike, like a silent crowd in an opulent set. They were all playing their part in John Fenrir's play.

Kurt followed John into the house, and as they reached the second-floor hall, Kurt noticed that it was empty. From here, he could see the garden and courtyard perfectly. John sat on the couch and pulled out a cigar from a wooden box on the table. Without waiting for an invitation, Kurt sat down in the chair opposite him, near the window, out of professional habit. He gazed at the garden, unable to see the arbor from his vantage point, but his thoughts were wandering in darkness, filled with the scent of blooming roses.

John lit the cigar, and they were silent. Kurt suddenly found that his soul was filled with surprising calm and serenity. Thoughts moved slowly and easily, one after another without creating the fuss that had plagued Kurt in recent days. Intimacy with John at this moment didn't scare or worry him. Kurt furtively glanced at John's face. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, not looking at Kurt. From a distance, it could seem as though he had forgotten about Kurt's presence altogether. Suddenly, Kurt felt uneasy again as a thought appeared in his head, destroying the charming serenity.

"It seems like John is skilfully manipulating my feelings," Kurt thought to himself as he looked back at John, who continued to calmly smoke the cigar, leaning back on the couch in a relaxed manner. Kurt began to feel doubtful. "It can't be possible. He can't manipulate my feelings. He doesn't know about them...or does he know? Or..."

Anxiety gripped his soul again; Kurt winced and looked away. He was sorry that the precious moment of peace didn't last long. Kurt didn't dare to break the silence; for some reason, John grinned as if reading his thoughts. He put the cigar aside.

"Want to play poker?"

"Aren't we waiting for someone?"

"I hate to wait. Although," he said and chuckled again, "it's worth it. In the meantime, let's play."

It was no longer a question or a suggestion. Kurt stood up and sat down at the table opposite John. John's hazel eyes gleamed in the dim lamplight. In the moments when Kurt's mind managed to prevail over his senses, he saw clearly that John was barely holding back poorly concealed delight. He was like a child who had, in his opinion, invented a brilliant mischief and couldn't wait for the victim to fall into it. Kurt was bothered by only one question: who would it be? What was weird was that it didn't scare Kurt if John chose him as his victim. It was even predictable. So Kurt was afraid that it wasn't him who needed to be aware.

They didn't have time to finish the game as the butler came into the room. "Miss Conte," he reported in a restrained manner.

John let him go with a nonchalant nod. He no longer held back, smiling openly and almost rubbing his hands in anticipation. Startled, Kurt looked at him and moved away from the table.

"Kurt!" John called him. His joy was instantly replaced with a wolfish grin. "Finish first."

Kurt didn't like the tone of John's voice. It was an interesting feeling as if something rebellious had awakened inside him. The fact that John ordered him stirred Kurt, and his heart fearfully thumped.

In Kurt's salon, everything was still quiet. Suddenly, from the dark corner, a figure emerged. It was a lady in a black dress, who swiftly walked across the room with grace in each of her steps. Without looking at anyone, she sat down next to the lady in red.

Kurt looked at John without fear or embarrassment. Neither his voice nor his face seemed beautiful to Kurt now; his wolfish eyes didn't scare or besot him. Pride spoke clearly through Kurt.

Without looking away, Kurt quietly placed his cards on the table and stood up. He wanted to go home; he didn't want to see John ever again or feel what he had felt before. Pride fettered his heart with such coldness that it froze in amazement. John's voice echoed repeatedly in Kurt's head.

Kurt pursed his lips and looked back at John, trying to unravel his thoughts. However, John was completely impervious; he looked at Kurt with interest, but his eyes glittered dangerously. Obviously, John was not used to being defied.

To Kurt's surprise, his burst of courage faded, leaving him in silence and perplexity. John stared at Kurt, and even though Kurt was not going to sit back down at the table, he retreated.

"We'll assume that victory is yours, Mr. Fenrir," Kurt said calmly. However, John did not accept that answer; on the contrary, his gaze became fierce. It seemed to Kurt that John would pounce on him. He realized that he had shown an inexcusable condescension. Well, he was not good at flattery, and no matter how Kurt felt about John, he couldn't cringe as easily as John's followers. John pursed his lips and looked at Kurt with indifference.

"It can't be. Will he let it go?" Kurt suddenly thought, but John had already turned away and thrown his cards on the table, leaving the money untouched.

"You almost managed to spoil my mood," he said dully, inhaling the cigar that had been smoldering in an ashtray on the table, and turned back to Kurt. His face was the same, however, Kurt felt something ominous in the air.

If he doesn't seek revenge against me, he will take it out on someone else. And there's nothing stopping him from doing both.

John went to the door, and now Kurt's thoughts were focused on whether this was Miss Conte, whom he had the honor (but not pleasure) of meeting at the charity event of Catherine Danee.