46 3. Expiring Hearts (1/2)

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 documents 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 documents 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 documents in my hands made me quite desperate. I could imagine what would happen if the documents 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.

Being harsh was only a must. Scars, bullet shots, killing his love, was only to make him stronger. To kill his heart. I wanted his heart to burn only to hear it return, beating emptily from ashes. I wanted him to morph into an invincible being.

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 hips 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 hips 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 cocked 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 chest 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 chest 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.

He lowered his head, grinned, looked up, and caught my eyes. His smile faltered and then there was a pulse of silence when I stared into the depths of his unwavering, emeralds. I looked away.

”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 chest. 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.