Julius Caesar

Augustus sat next to me on my bed, elbows on knees, head in hands, and eyes glued to the ground as he ridiculously muttered, ′It can't be.′

I tsked and rested a hand on his arched back. "It's okay, August. Just another life lesson." I sighed.

"You're just...bluffing-" He continued resisting me and I smirked.

"What's there to 'bluff' about, son?" I shrugged helplessly, maintaining the act. "He's a free man and he decided to elope with this blind girl, get married, and never come back."

His breath hitched before his head snapped up in my direction. His eyes were a worn-out blue, and his lips chapped and pale. "Blind girl?"

I sighed sympathetically. "Your brother, sadly, is always running out of luck. Poor thing-" I shook my head. "He even ends up marrying a disabled person."

"But-" Augustus was about to blurt out something but quickly caught himself and looked away with a smirk. "Did you see them? Is that how you knew? I mean, it doesn't hit me that Julius is the kinda guy who'd tell you anything at all."

I cleared my throat and pressed a sad smile. "No, he isn't that kind of guy. In fact, one of my men saw them. The day before yesterday," I shook my head for exaggerated effect. "He was holding onto the poor thing's hands and guiding her into the airport."

To my confusion, Augustus almost looked relieved but I brushed it off. My plan was perfect and Augustus was too dumb and would fall for it. As always. He seemed to almost smile before furrowing his eyebrows. "You follow him?"

"Of course-" I told him. "He shouldn't be under any...danger. Especially in our field of work."

"Who follows him?" He then asked curiously, furrowing his eyebrows and I raised mine. Augustus seemed to realize the invalidity of his question because he shut his eyes and shook his head. "I'm just curious."

"My men, of course. Ledger, Simon, and many more," I answered nevertheless, holding his gaze as he nodded slowly.

"Okay, Dad-" He then inhaled deeply and stood up, head bowed. "I'm gonna go."

"Of course, son," I sighed. "Go get some rest-" He looked up and I studied him. "You look...ashen."

"Yeah-" He started but I immediately cut him off.

"And let's not forget about the deal," I drawled as he attempted a smile.

Instead of replying, he stuck both his thumbs up and shut his eyes. He then dropped his hands and slipped them in his pockets before turning and leaving the room.

I then cursed under my breath.

Samara's POV.

I pushed my shirts' sleeves to my elbows and tightened my ponytail as one guard opened the door to Julius' 'safe haven'.

I continued walking nevertheless as my eyes got used to the darkness and things started making an appearance. Walls. Pillars. And a huge stage platform right in front of me.

Where was he?

I was good at dealing with darkness. I mean, I lived with its coat wrapping itself snugly around my eyes for almost eight years. My eyes got more accustomed as I squinted at a heap on the stage, a few feet away from me. I blindly walked closer with an outstretched arm, curiosity taking lead.

The stage's platform was my hip's height and I had to carefully clamber over it. When I was on top of it, I patted myself absently and gulped in air, then diverted my eyes to the heap that almost camouflaged with the darkness that coated it like a heavy blanket.

It was him.

I dropped my arms to my sides, my jaw falling along.

He was sleeping on his back, in nothing but his boxers, his left arm across his torso, rising and falling with his chest movement. His other arm was outstretched with some kind of pager resting on his palm.

I tried to look hard but it was impossible to fish for details in this darkness. So I let my eyes trail to his face. His head was turned toward me, his dark hair haphazardly covering his eyes and his lips parted, showing the edges of his front teeth.

And I know you might think it's weird or insane but, at that moment, I couldn't help but kneel on the platform, plant my palms over the floor, and lean into his face.

I blinked.

He looked so peaceful and I couldn't help but think that this couldn't be a murderer's face. A face that killed my father. I leaned in even closer and inhaled him. He smelled of wood and musk and I thought, how could he maintain a good smell in such terrible conditions? Do they allow him to shower?

I smiled despite myself, satisfied that he was here. So close to me. Close to the extent that if I leaned in any closer I would feel his breath on my skin. I was glad that he wasn't being the devil he usually was. He was just a sleeping, sadistic, broken man.

A redeemable person.

My lips parted at a strong realization. I realized how vulnerable he was allowing himself to be. He was allowing himself to sleep in his enemies' shed. Unarmed, as if ready to die. As if he had made terms with the fact that his life was unworthy of saving by staying awake for it.

It was like he didn't care anymore.

And, oh, that scared me so much. So much that I heard my heart thump loudly in my ears. Loud enough to serve as an alarm to probably wake him up. Wake him up. So that he could see this forbidden fright on my face. So that he'd hold my arms and assure me that he understands. That he understands that all of this is just a game. That it means nothing. That he knows the truth and he knows that I keep denying it and will keep denying it.

Because, at this moment- at this moment, dammit Caesar, when I was so close to your unfathomable soul, I couldn't lie to my heart.

I didn't even realize how close I was until my hair brushed his face and his breath hitched before his dark eyes snapped open to stare into mine.

Heart in Antarctica, I gasped loudly and pushed myself away from him. He cursed under his breath, looked frantically everywhere and crawled away from me quickly until his back hit the wall. His right-hand fumbled with something as he frowned deeply.

The lights immediately brightened and I shaded my eyes with my hands at their overbearing intensity as I tried to peek at him. I was very curious about him.

He was the farthest from composed as he panted through parted, deep-pink lips. He shook his hair off his face as his bright virid eyes widened at me. His hands were in his laps when he pressed his lips together and blinked once. He then stared at me and exhaled loudly.

He looked composed but his voice gave him away. "What are you doing?" He tried nonchalance but failed as his pupils constricted.

I got to my feet, steadied myself, and faced him, still appalled by his behaviour. "I wanted to talk." I frowned, feigning irritation as I looked down.

"Talk?" His voice was rough and husky, sinfully demanding my attention. I watched him use his right fist to rub his eyes. He then dropped it back to his laps with a heavy sigh. His eyes studied me as I nodded solemnly in response.

He then smiled weakly, momentarily averting his gaze to a point next to me. "Of course."

He then used his toned arms to push himself further against the wall before clearing his throat. And I tried not to look at his chiselled chest and torso and how it narrowed down marvellously into his hips and those V-lines that I could -oh, yes- trace with my fingers. I inhaled sharply and bit my lips shyly at my outrageous thoughts.

"Of course, we will talk." He continued and I released my lower lip and continued staring at him (decently this time). "But please pass over my garments, darling. My jacket. I'd rather not be interrogated half-naked." He locked my eyes and gave me a lop-sided smile.

I blushed furiously.

I then immediately looked away and glanced next to me to find his clothes neatly folded in a corner. White shirt on black pants next to his mid-calf combat boots, on top of which laid his leather jacket folded in half. His socks were in a neat ball next to them. I walked over to his clothes and picked his huge, relatively heavy jacket. I threw it at him.

He caught it, mouthed a 'thank you', and spread it over his laps instead of wearing it. He then looked up at me under his heavy eyebrows and smiled. "Now. How can I help you?"

"Your father didn't show up," I stated, raising an eyebrow as he looked at me like he expected me to continue rambling on. But when he realized that that was all I had to say, he ran a hand down through his mid-lengthed, soft, ebony hair before holding the back of his neck and smiling halfheartedly.

"And?" He shook his head subtly, still smiling before dropping his hand to his lap. "What's new about that? What's there to talk about regarding this? In the middle of the night?"

"Why?" I asked, no longer hiding my curiosity. "How were you so sure that he wouldn't turn up?"

He looked at me bemusedly, with smiling, crinkling eyes.

Then the light in his eyes died.

"I'm not compelled to tell you."

"Actually, you are," I pressed indifferently, crossing arms across my chest and looking down at him.

He raised his eyebrows, jutted out his lower lip, then bit it back in with a smile. "Really?" He then diverted his gaze to the floor and drawled. "We're not...friends."

"You're my hostage," I stated, ignoring his supposedly humiliating comment.

"That does not make you my owner." He pointed out business-like. "I shall not utter a thing I don't feel obliged to say. So how about a topic change?"

I screwed my face at how at ease he was and shook my head. "That's not-"

"I happen not to understand the significance of music." He intoned with a strong voice that cut all my chain of thoughts. "I cannot relate to it whatsoever." His voice softened. "In fact, I absolutely despise it."

I stared at him and smirked. "We're not friends," I retorted harshly. "We don't discuss-"

"I'm asking you-" He breathed with a hard look and a raised brow. "-because you happen to be a music lover. A piano player. No other reason."

I think I turned pink.

"Well, what do you expect me to do about it?" I snapped at him frustratedly as he ruffled his hair with a cheeky smile.

"Explain to me your love for music." He said simply with a shrug. "I mean, our relationship was built solely on your eagerness to share a song with a complete stranger." His eyes turned soft and his smile widened. "Me." His eyes then fluttered and I had to catch my breath in my hands, keep it there, safe and home, so that I could gulp it back down when he wasn't staring at me the way he was.

"So." His renewed, louder voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "What is it, that's so particularly enchanting about it? Is it the beat or the singer's voice or the bloody lyrics?" Surprisingly, anger was a sharp pen that managed to deepen the furrow of his eyebrows, the colour of his eyes, and the intensity of his voice. I didn't understand why it angered him.

He then shook his head. "I just constantly fail to understand."

The very fact that he hated music never really got to me. I mean, I didn't think there was a being on Earth that doesn't like it.

"You'll never understand it." I found myself saying. My passion for music ran very deep within me. It was my saviour in my darkest days. My only source of pure, gushing emotion, communicated with beautiful voices and expressive lyrics.

Music is emotion.

"Enlighten me please." He said, lifting his head a bit with a proud, playful smile. "I want you to teach me."

"It's impossible," I said curtly and he slowly raised his eyebrows. "For you to understand-" I mocked with a slight, fake pout. "-you'd have to be human."

His face was unreadable. "So you deem me as hopeless case-" He stated almost seriously. "-worthless of your efforts to help me."

"Help you with what?" My lips parted and my heartbeat quickened.

"In understanding music, of course." His emeralds were unblinking and I had to look down.

"I thought I've insulted you enough," I said.

"My-" He frowned deeply with a small smile. "Insulted me?" He feigned offence. "Truth is not an insult."

"So you admit you're inhumane?" I asked incredulously, tilting my head toward him.

"I already told you that before-" He looked bored. "And I'll tell you again. I'm a murderer. That -if it isn't already obvious- makes me incapable of relating to your humanity, love, care, heart, and the rest of that very long, insipid list." He might be as well be talking about the weather or saying something very ordinary.

"I think you're capable of caring," I blurted out and caught myself a tad too late. His head was already up and his blood-shot eyes shocked at my words. He looked oddly disappointed.

"You do?" He sighed heavily as his 'not-so-empty-hard-to-read' eyes glared at me. "What a terrible accusation, love-" He scoffed and laughed humorlessly. I wanted to punch him in his perfect teeth.

"I saw it in your eyes." He tried not to roll them. "When you were with Augustus," I added, looking down and peeking up at him.

He froze. His eyes slowly diverted to me and I almost faltered at their intensity. He lifted his eyebrows, shook his head, peered at me through his hair curtain, smiled, and sighed softly.

"I told you I almost killed him." He said as matter-of-factly and I grimaced.

"Are you trying to make me hate you?" I snapped at him and wondered where that came from. "Do you want to die at my hands?"

"It'd be a pleasure-"

"Just stop!" My face contorted and I raised a hand to cut him off. "You're not straightforward! I came here to ask you about your father and you suddenly want to talk about music. Then make me hate you more and more! Then you'd taunt me like you did the last time. And then make me question and doubt my own blood! What is your problem?!"

I was angry. He looked amused.

"You-" He breathed. "Not being able to carry on with your job or interrogation or whatsoever this is-" He waved his hand randomly between us. "-is not my problem. It does not concern me the least bit."

My breathing deepened and my blood boiled. I hated his composure and the coldness in his voice. I hated this whole facade.

"Okay," I said solidly. "Then let's be friends." My voice was ice-cold and I had to stretch my fingers that would've loved to wrap themselves around his neck and squeeze the merry life out of it.

"You want to be friends?" He asked bemusedly. "After you know I killed your father and -who knows-" He shrugged and tilted his head. "-maybe even your brother?" His smile was a sin. He shouldn't do that when he was talking like this. "Plus, twenty? Or what- wait? Thirty more? I can't recall, love. Did Maxime tell-"

"Yes." I cut off his hateful words. "I still want your 'friendship'."

He looked at me hard, opened his mouth, closed it, and then stared at me more. It was like he was thinking about what to say. Choosing and weighing his words. Selecting his emotions and maybe preparing his face muscles to move accurately, hoping it'd depict what he only wanted.

He then smiled effortlessly with raised eyebrows as I marvelled at his astonishingly green eyes. "Okay, love-" He said, his voice slightly taut. "Let's be friends."

His fake excitement irritated me even more and I wanted nothing more than to get over with it. "Why didn't your father show up?" was what I asked immediately.

He raised his eyebrows in response as his lips fought to suppress a smile. "Tell me that you know that being friends is more like a... two-way road." He then smiled playfully. "You'll have to do something for me in return, darling. Naturally. I mean you can't possibly be that naive." He continued teasing as I pressed my lips into a thin line.

"Answer-" I was done being patient with him.

"Love-" His voice was strong, distracting me from my anger. "I will not answer a question unless we make a deal." He was impossibly collected.

I screwed my face. "What deal?"

"A deal-" he cleared his throat. "-whereby I make sure that I receive some kind of reward in return to answering your questions." He then clasped his hands together on top of his jacket, lifted his head, and smiled expectantly.

I pursed my lips and shifted in my place. "That's only fair. What do you want?"

He raised his eyebrows then grinned. "Well...nothing much." He shrugged, averting his gaze away from me. "Just two things really." He was tossing the light pager in the air and capturing it again with his relatively big hand. He glanced up at me, his impossibly transparent, green eyes awaiting a response.

"Just two things?" I repeated what he said incredulously as he nodded quickly, closing his eyes, and smiling 'shyly'. I rolled my eyes. "What are they?"

He straightened up, took a deep breath, crossed his arms across his chest, and stared at me.

He then smiled breathtakingly.