After Nathan made his bold declaration — a deliberate dagger meant to pierce Pandora's composure — he descended slowly back into the arena.
Each step echoed across the floor, deliberate and unhurried, as if the roars of the audience above were nothing more than distant murmurs to him. The faint shimmer of the afternoon sun caught the edge of his pale hair, making it gleam like silver fire against the stone.
He wasn't simply provoking Pandora. No — part of him wanted to witness something else.
He wanted to see him — Julius Caesar.
He wanted to see that proud, calculating man's expression falter, his mask of composure crumble ever so slightly as Nathan so shamelessly flirted with his daughter right before his eyes.
Normally, Nathan would have found such antics beneath him. He wasn't one to indulge in petty satisfaction. But Caesar… Caesar had earned this.
