Julius Caesar

Alexander's POV.

I was beyond turbulent.

My son. My sorry, so sorry son managed to do it again. Managed to repeat the same damn blunder. He managed to fall in love. I clutched my bedsheets and glared at my dead phone, not comprehending how stupid he was. How he ruined everything.

Of course, I knew. I knew about his damned abduction. I had warned him that he'd watched and was beyond displeased when Simon, one of my men, reported seeing him kiss a girl before getting dragged to a van. Simon had followed them and knew where they were taking my son. He then claimed to see the 'dead boy's brother', Maxime. Simon recognized Maxime because he was the one who finished the job, who shot Leonard in the neck.

It didn't take me long to connect the dots. It had turned out that my son didn't only fall in love. He'd fallen in love with our foe's sister.

What a commendable plot twist.

After realizing that, everything made sense. Like why he was too afraid to get the damned doc.u.ments on his own. He was scared to hurt the bloody girl by harming her brothers. He didn't want it to come from his side. He didn't want himself to blame. So he decided to throw it all on me.

All for the sake of protecting those doc.u.ments from his ignorant self. He couldn't know what was in them because he was too damn reckless and thoughtless. There was a chance he ruined everything I worked for all those years since his mother's death.

He shouldn't see his mother's will.

He shouldn't because he wouldn't understand. Because there's a more pressing reason as to why our motto is 'Kill for Gorj'. He didn't really kill for Gorj. He killed for more than Gorj. More than he would ever imagine. For a much more noble purpose.

Gorj isn't merely an advertising company. No. That's just a disguise. But that's another story for another time.

Naturally, Julius isn't allowed to know because secrecy is a priority in what we actually do. No-one should know anything except for the people who worked with me and understood the enormity of this. Loyal and understanding people like Philip.

You couldn't have possibly thought that he worked like this willingly, for all those years.

Not having the doc.u.ments in my hands made me quite desperate. I could imagine what would happen if the doc.u.ments fell in the wrong hands. If it went out to the public. The connections people, especially our enemies, would make would be detrimental.

And if Julius got to know what they carried, he might as well respond like an enemy. He would not be forgiving, for 'living by force' was all I taught him. He'd want the company for himself.

You'd wonder why I didn't work on a good 'father-son' bond and the answer is quite obvious. I wanted him to be completely and emotionally independent. He shouldn't for a wavering moment develop any sympathies. So that even if my life had to be the price Gorj paid for some reason, Julius shouldn't hesitate to kill me. He would have to do it. Kill his father that is.

But I'd failed at that part. I couldn't mitigate his emotions. The boy had a much bigger heart than I'd anticipated. And he seemed to always, stubbornly recover every time he paid the price with it.

What I managed to do was make him believe that he was nothing but a filthy, hypocritic murderer, incapable of emotion. I wove it in his soul and ensured that doubt remained his life companion. I wanted him to doubt any emotion he'd ever welcome and to constantly remind himself of who he is before venturing into anything. I wanted pretence to be his fear. I wanted him to fear the fact that he could be pretending emotion, not actually feeling it.

So witnessing him slip again was disappointing and infuriating.

Julius had lived my life, and I said that before. He had lived it well. He learnt quickly, observed well, was incredibly tolerant, and had a great gift of reading people's emotions from their facial and body language. His abilities were invaluable.

I will not deny, whatsoever, that other reasons as to why I let Julius into this, was my undying love to Augustus and my utter hatred toward Miguel for forcing me to take care of him until he was twenty. Blimey, she threatened me before she died as if she knew of my disloyalty.

She said that she'd have people sent to check on her son's well-being now and then. She said she'd take Julius and her company away from me and hand them over to her brother if I weren't 'careful'. She said that all my profit should be channelled only into Julius. She wanted him to study abroad and achieve greatness.

It was her last wish.

But she hadn't had the slightest clue about the plans I had for Gorj. I was too deep into them to back out, then. I needed the company- which left me a helpless, vulnerable, malleable Julius to take care of, and that was how it all started.

As for what needed to be done, I wouldn't go and 'save' Julius from Maxime yet because I wanted him to suffer the consequences, learn a lesson or two, pay with his heart again. One last time.

Maybe it'd finally expire.

I threw my phone away, taking a deep breath, only to have my room's door slammed open by Augustus.

I sat up alertly and gaped at his dishevelled appearance. Messy, almost-white hair, wide, blue eyes with dark circles beneath them, unshaven face, and parted dark-red lips. He stood tall and handsome, his neck taut and his breathing heavy, in black pants and an unbuttoned white shirt, a hand tightly curled around the door's knob.

His anticipating facial expression turned into a slight scowl as he studied me. My heart immediately clenched at the way he looked at me. He never looked at me like this. What could've happened?

I raised my eyebrows and his hand dropped from the doorknob before he placed it on his h.i.p.s and ran the other one through his hair. "Okay. Okay. This isn't funny anymore," was what he said, hand still caught in his hair and brilliant, blue eyes narrowed at me.

I pinched my nose at the accusing tone he used. "Pardon?"

"This isn't funny anymore!" He repeated breathily, dropping his hand from his hair and held his h.i.p.s with both his hands.

I looked at him confusedly. Why he seemed utterly provoked was beyond my understanding. "I don't understand, son."

"You don't, huh?" He said, his voice thick and strangled. "Dad, I'm not as daft as I used to be!"

I frowned at his frantic state and c.o.c.ked my head a little. "Is there something wrong-?"

"Yes! Of course," he exploded. "Of course, there's something wrong. There always is!"

"Augustus," I stated firmly, shifting on the bed. "What are you getting on?"

His toned c.h.e.s.t heaved with every breath he took as he clenched his jaws, shut his eyes, and raised his right hand to rub his temples. "Alright. Alright. Where is- uh- where is Julius?"

His question was posthaste but managed to linger bitterly in the air between us. My eyes widened and he dropped his hand from his temples to openly stare at me. "Julius?"

I thought my heart died a little.

Samara's POV.

"You look exquisite today, love."

My breath stopped in my trachea as the lights above me brightened. I squinted and quickly turned my back to the stage's platform.

He stood straight and tall, barefoot and dominant. His buttoned pants were rolled up a bit beyond his ankles and his black leather jacket was hanging from his shoulders, exposing the valleys and depths of his faultless c.h.e.s.t and torso. His hands were hidden behind his back. And when I looked up at his face, his dark-red lips were curved in an obnoxiously perfect smile and his black hair was tasselled randomly, yet appealingly.

He looked scary.

His forests for eyes devoured me shamelessly as his smile widened and his eyes crinkled. I had to clear my throat and frown despite the heat slapping its way from the back of my neck to my cheeks.

"And you look repugnant." I found myself telling him.

"You're here to finally free me, I hope?" His voice was strong, his face serious and momentarily smile-free, and his eyes sharp with the thoughts they carried as weapons.

I smirked at his confidence. "No."

"No?" He feigned confusion and caged the anger that he thought was invisible to me. "Why? Planning to keep me as your pet? Lock me up, feed me, and watch me grow an inch every day?" He raised his eyebrows and I shrugged.

"Maybe," I teased as he made no effort to hide his irritation. "Like it or not, we're keeping you hostage."

"Hostage?" He said, his face contorting and his head tilting at an odd angle like it was an insult. "Are you being absolutely serious, love? Are you being serious, serious?" He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, his hands still behind his back. He was breathing faster; I could tell from the chaotic movement of his c.h.e.s.t. I was angering him.

I raised my eyebrows subtly. "We want your father. And we'll get to him through you."

Julius gaped at me for a while, processing what I said before he raised his eyebrows and let out a hard, forced laugh. "You really cannot be serious."

I shrugged as I watched his mouth form unspoken words. He then shut his eyes, shook his head, and smiled. "You have no idea what you're doing." His voice was clipped and his eyes were unkind when they snapped open.

"I'm enjoying myself," I said coolly, daring to look into his death-cold eyes.

"At what?" He frowned deeply, the corner of his upper lip lifting itself. "At the expense of my freedom? My time?"

"Your time?" I scoffed, watching him slowly regain his composure. "And am I supposed to care?" My voice was mocking. "I mean, by keeping you here, I'm saving lives. What does time mean to a cruel thing? To a thing that wears the smell of blood and cadavers as perfume?"

He drew back his eyebrows, a flicker of some emotion flitting into and out of his suddenly distant eyes. He then closed his eyes, snapped them open, and stared into mine. "And you seem to be particularly oblivious." His voice was breathy and harsh. "Or you choose to be absolutely idiotic about ignoring the very obvious," he continued, his lips hardly moving. "-that you're within less than ten feet of a murderer. What makes you think that I wouldn't want your blood as 'perfume' too?" My breath hitched at the thought as I gaped more at him. "I've been stinking for a couple of days, love. Your blood would be very appetizing."

And he was being absolutely serious saying this. He wasn't smiling. His lips were pulled into a thin line and his eyes were waiting to be challenged. Waiting for a win. Dangerous, lethal energy buzzed around him.

I was almost terrified. I thought I was incapable of talking.

I then noticed him take a step back as his shoulders relaxed and his face neutralized. "I want to go."

"I'm sorry," was all I managed to utter.

His face screwed up. "You don't understand!" His voice was dangerously low. "You can't possibly think it's that simple."

"What's not simple about this?" I tried maintaining a steady voice as I clasped my shaky hands in front of me. He seemed to notice because his eyes dropped to glance at them. I immediately unclasped them and hid them behind my back like he did with his.

He looked up, looked away then sighed. "My father will never show up."

"We'll see," I said bitterly.

He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. "If he doesn't show up," he said. "-I'm leaving."

"That returns to us," I said, referring to Maxime and his eyes widened with renewed interest.

"Us?" He caricatured. "You mean you and your pathetic excuse of a brother?" He smirked, a few hair strands falling over his left eye.

I clenched my fists behind my back and furrowed my eyebrows. He had no right to insult my brother in front of me. He was belittling me and underestimating my reaction.

But being angry wasn't something that came naturally to me, so I decided to take a deep breath and tilt my head.

"You daren't call him that."

"I shall call him what I see him as, darling." His voice was strong and confident.

"I'm not your darling." I scowled and he ignored me.

"And he's not your brother." I was surprised by the sharpness in his voice and the storms raging under his irises. I almost believed him.

"What do-"

"What kind of brother encourages his sister to get blood on her hands, dammit?" He asked. "Can you possibly be that naive, Samara?" He, suddenly, sounded so sincere. Suddenly, I felt his eyes reaching out for me, not insulting me.

"He thought you killed his brother!" I said hotly, defending Maxime.

"Well, I'll be goddamned!" His voice was loud and I could see that it took him loads of energy to keep himself from lashing out. And I thought- I never saw Julius angry. "Why didn't he come and finish me off himself? I bet he'd have the time of his life." Julius was getting on a point, I couldn't grasp yet.

"Maxime is not a murderer!" I fought back and Julius leaned back, with frozen fury painting his features.

"And you are?" His nose flared and his face reddened from all the rage that built up beneath his skin. I could feel it radiating off him in waves.

"Of course not," I said defensively. "I'm not a murderer."

"Of course you aren't," he said, shaking his head vigorously. "But you were a finger pull away from becoming one. Your brother, my love," he panted. "-manipulated you."

I frowned at the nonsense he said. Maxime would never be in the right mind to do this.

"Manipulated me?" I screwed my face. "How dare you-?"

"Maxime is a murderer, darling," he said as if proud of this indictment. "He is no better than me. He might be even worse."

"And presently, you might be manipulating me!" I found my voice miraculously as I ignored Julius' accusations. He was just blathering.

Julius looked taken aback by my statement before his lips curled into a sneer. "You know I'd never do that. Samara."

The sincerity in his voice and eyes caught me off guard and left me wondering if he was even worth listening to.

"I've no way of knowing." My voice was harsh and I wanted it to be. "You manipulated me when I was blind. You manipulated my innocence and made me believe that you were someone worth caring for. Forgot already? Didn't know that memory loss came as a side effect of murder."

Julius looked me in the eyes like I said something he didn't want to hear."I manipulated you?" His voice was barely a whisper. "You've no-" He then stopped, closed his eyes, and touched his fingers to his lips. His eyes snapped open and I was surprised to see the stories in them. Stories he immediately decided to hide in the shelves of his bright, emerald irises.

His soft eyes hardened. "You're right." He said solidly, his throat moving. "I manipulated you." He said and I raised my eyebrows surprisedly. "You were beautifully naive, and my murderer instincts got automatically activated." He then locked my eyes. "Couldn't help it, love." He smiled.

I grimaced despite my heart nagging me, not believing what he said even when it should've. I realized that Julius was right. I needed to stop being naive.

"So as I was saying," Julius then continued nonchalantly. "Maxime is mentally disturbed. He's trying-"

"A psychopath has no right to insult others." I managed to slip in but he ignored me.

"He's trying to ′replace' you with Leonard." He emphasized, looking down. "He's trying to get you to be his partner in crime. Because he's lunatic. He'll only see you as Leonard. I've dealt with his likes-"

"Sounds to me that you're describing yourself-"

He then looked up, his lips parted as I noticed the heavy movement of his b.a.r.e c.h.e.s.t, the tautness in his neck, and his exasperated facial expression. "You are not listening to me!" He exploded and I almost gasped at the concern that lingered in his features for longer than he'd normally allow. "Your brother is planning on getting your hands dirty. Because he's psychotic! And I'm scared you'd succ.u.mb to his theatrics and pathological lying. And I know you will!"

"I'm not stupid." I started slowly, suddenly finding myself looking for theories to prove him right.

"You will fall for it." The intensity in his voice killed me and I wondered why wasn't he getting closer. Why wasn't he allowing himself to shout in my face? Closer to me. "Just like you did before!"

"That never happened." I was shaking my head and looking at him like he lost his mind. I was about to laugh at his unnecessary seriousness.

"Oh?" His lips traced the letter 'o' perfectly as he took a step closer. "So he wasn't the one who manipulated you into abducting me, was he?" His eyes were looking at me differently. He looked at me like he wanted to reveal some dirty, underlying truth. "He wasn't the one who told you to kiss me, run your fingers in my hair, and walk away, was he?" His voice was low and husky.

And I thought my heart wasn't in its right place. Because I kept feeling it everywhere. In my temples, neck, and ears. And then I realized that my jaw wasn't in its place too. I remembered touching it, trying to find it because there was a problem. I couldn't talk. Then I wondered that -no, maybe my tongue is paralyzed or, no, maybe I've been hit on the head. Because looking in his accusing eyes, I didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say.

"What you did was vile and cruel, Samara." His voice was low and soft and he was impossibly close despite the considerable distance between us. I could imagine his hot breath next to my ears, on my neck.

I gulped and collected the remaining pieces of my shameful-self from the ground. "I don't care."

"You wouldn't do that!" He lost it at those three lying words I uttered. "If it weren't for your brother, you wouldn't do that. I'd bet my life on it!" His voice was rough and I knew it took him his all, not to yell and crack the walls with his b.a.r.e fists.

"You don't know me," was what I said, still drowning in shame.

"You haven't the slightest idea how much I know you." His voice was suddenly calm and deep. "And I know you wouldn't have done that because you know-" He stopped to catch my burning eyes. They were burning in shame and guilt. "-you know, what it means to get your heart broken to smithereens by hope." He looked tired. Like it was physically painful to spill all those words. And maybe, it was for him.

"I would want to hurt you," I said nevertheless.

"You keep denying this." He was breathing hard again. "Who are you protecting?! Why?" He exploded, shaking his head, more hair strands falling over his eyes. His teeth were bared and his frame shook with rage. I was so shocked to see him capable of showing so much emotion. Even if it was anger.

But he daren't step closer.

"You don't understand, do you?" I found myself saying quietly. "You're a murderer in my eyes no matter what you do."

"This isn't about me!" He stressed, c.o.c.king back his head as I observed his Adam apples move. I let my eyes trail down his neck to where his sharp collar bones were tucked under his jacket. His dropped head. "This isn't about me," he repeated sadly, his eyebrows drawn up and his eyes raw with emotion. "I'd hate it to see you lose yourself to all this. You don't belong here. You shouldn't be doing this."

"You think I'm incapable-?"

"Dammit, this isn't about abilities, Samara!" His voice was harsh again and his ocean-green eyes, ice, ice cold. "This is about a kind of darkness you've never known of. A-A darkness that will consume you the moment you open your arms for it!" He was shaking his head, looking down, trying to explain. "Ask me about it! I'd know. I'd know so much. I'd know." His eyebrows were tugged down with concern as he stared into my eyes. He was pleading me to do the impossible. Believe him.

"Of course you'd know," I grimaced. "You're a murderer! I know you! I know who you really are!"

His raised eyebrows dropped low as his eyes darkened and narrowed. "You know nothing about me." His voice was flat. Lifeless. "Love, this darkness you seem to be welcoming made me a nothing. A repetitive, dead joke. A good book with no readers. A silent letter." He was smiling, despite the weight his words carried. I was staring at him say such things so casually and flatly like he'd made terms with it long back. "You don't know what you're talking about. You'll never know me, love." He was frowning. "You shouldn't know me." He finished with a soft sigh and stepped back.

He looked at me through his hair and I had to gulp back tears that made their way out of their glands. I was crying because he was right. I looked at him and saw blank pages of false love. I knew nothing about him.

"I have to go," I breathed.

It was just too much for me. Seeing him transform from someone I thought I could always rely on to someone I barely knew. I was seeing him transform into something scary. Something monstrous. And I had to go because I couldn't help the tears over his hopeless case.

Julius' eyes snapped up to mine. They were completely shut off. A dull, empty green. He then nodded slowly with a subtle shrug. "Go." He said unwaveringly.

"I will." I dug my nails in my palms to stop myself from crying. "I will be back to deliver my condolences over your dead father."

He looked at me, expressionless before shrugging again. "He will not come."

I remember pressing a fake smile. Nothing moved in him. Not an eyebrow. He didn't even blink as he stared more at me. And I couldn't read him no matter what. I couldn't read his posture. His eyes. Or face. He was just staring at me.

Maybe I'd finally pushed him to his wits' ends.

I walked past him, toward the door, feeling his unfaltering gaze on my back.

"Cinderella."

My heart skipped a whisperous beat at his voice and I turned to face him again. He was holding the previous day's red pumps by their heels, in both his hands, in front of his c.h.e.s.t. He was looking at them before he slowly averted his gaze to me and my heart galloped in my c.h.e.s.t.

I looked at the pumps, then back at his emeralds with parted lips before hesitantly making my way to him with clenched fists. He was watching me approach him, his eyes trained all over my body. I felt my knees weaken as the distance decreased. When I was close enough, I dropped my gaze to the pumps.

I held them from the front part -the top line- and was about to pull them away when I felt him tighten his hold around the heels. He wasn't letting go. I looked at him and was on the verge of panicking at his proximity.

I just had to breathe. So I did as his eyes locked mine in place. "I will not allow your stubbornness to be the reason you lose yourself." His voice was uneven with the emotion it tried concealing. "Do you follow me?" He then pulled the heels toward himself with so much force, I staggered toward him. I had to close my eyes to steady myself.

He caught my eyes and I held my breath. "Because if you do, if you lose yourself, I swear to you and all the blazing stars in the universe, I will not stop at anything to watch Maxime bleed to death." His voice carried so much venom and hatred, I almost felt sick. He licked his lower lip quickly. "Your brother's life is in the palm of your hands." His face inched closer to mine and I couldn't help but watch his wet lips whisper those words.

He then let go of the heels and I stood staring at him dumbly. He looked satisfied with himself as he took several steps away from me.

"Come on, Cinderella." He mocked, waving a hand in front of him. "Maxime's waiting to be impressed. So go, be a good doll and carry his gun in your little pocket. Be a good sissy and fulfil his wishes." I felt my heart plummet relentlessly to the depths of my soul. "All...of course," he added with a smile playing on his lips that his fingers brushed. "-in the name of Leonard's departed soul." He then shoved his hands in his pants' pockets.

I heard myself inhale sharply at his choice of words. I blinked rapidly, tightened my hold around my heels, did not say a thing, turned around, and walked out with the little dignity I had left.