He realized it was midday when Avitus returned for lunch, secretary on his heels. Max saluted as he held the door open for the governor, who acknowledged him with a nod.
Quick, light footsteps approached from behind him. “Avitus, is that you? I’ve just had lunch set out in the—” The flurry of words stopped short.
Max turned away from the door to see Volusia, standing a few feet away and staring at him with an open mouth.
He’d been bracing himself for this meeting all day, but he couldn’t suppress the bolt ofsomethingthat ran up his spine at the sight of her. There were subtle differences in her appearance from the seventeen-year old Max remembered: her hair was done in a more complex style, and she carried herself with a mantle of cool maturity befitting a lady of her station. But the warmth filling her eyes was just as he remembered.
Avitus raised an eyebrow at his dumbstruck wife. “My dear?”
Volusia blinked and recovered herself. Her mouth closed and her lips curved in a smile. “Lunch is in the dining room, of course. You must be hungry after a morning of hard work.”
“Indeed.” Avitus walked toward the dining room, the secretary following. Volusia cast a lingering look at Max, hesitated as if to say something, then turned and went after her husband.
Max let out a long breath and leaned against the wall. He watched her figure recede among the columns that lined the atrium. She had clearly recognized him—and clearly didn’t want her husband to know of their connection. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. On its face, there was nothing so scandalous in mentioning a past acquaintance, especially as they were the same age and had moved in the same social circle in Rome.
An hour or so passed. Avitus, Volusia, and the secretary reappeared once more when the men left, their lunch concluded. Max tried to look anywhere but at Volusia as he closed and locked the front door. He waited for her to leave, but she lingered.
“Is it really you, Max?” she asked.
Finally, he looked at her. She had stepped only an arm’s length from him. He could smell the flowery perfumed oil she wore. His mouth was dry, but he cleared his throat. “It’s me.”
A broad smile spread over her face. He remembered what it was like to bask in one of her bright, warm smiles—like stepping into a shaft of sunlight.
“Oh, how wonderful! Forgive me for acting so strange earlier—only I was just so surprised and didn’t know what to say. I was half-sure I was seeing things.”
An answering smile tugged at his lips. “I couldn’t believe it either when you stepped out of that carriage yesterday.”
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? You look well. Of course you always looked well—not that I meant”—she stumbled over her words, a pretty flush rising to her cheeks—“I just meant the army seems to suit you.”
“It does, most of the time.”Just not when my centurion is being a massive prick. “Marriage seems to suit you likewise.” He was taking a risk with such a personal comment, but he couldn’t resist trying to recapture the ease that used to exist between them.
She tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. “As you say. It does, most of the time.”
Something lurked beneath that comment, but he’d be pushing his luck to pry. “I thought I recalled you had a son. He’s not here with you?”
Her gaze turned wistful. “We decided to let Lucius remain in Rome with his grandparents. His constitution is delicate, and we didn’t want to interrupt his studies.”
“Studies? He can’t be more than nine.”
“Ten in a few months. Unlike you, he takes education very seriously. He wants to be a consul like his grandfather.”
Max’s mouth twisted at the mention of Volusia’s stepfather. “Good luck to him.”
Volusia gave him a stern look. “He could do much worse.”
A heaviness settled between them. Volusia’s stepfather, Rufus, was one of the reasons she and Max hadn’t spoken in ten years. According to Rufus, Max was not fit to breathe the same air as his precious stepdaughter, due to Max’s unconventional upbringing. Max had been born into poverty and fled an unhappy home, preferring to take his chances on the street as a child of seven. Then, he’d been adopted by Aelius and Crispina, unable to have children of their own. Rufus knew of Max’s ignoble origins and had never seen him as anything more than a delinquent.
It didn’t help that Max, as a child, had once attempted to attack Rufus. During a contentious election between Rufus and Aelius, Rufus had stooped to threatening Crispina. Max had witnessed Rufus lay hands on Crispina, and the best he could do was kick Rufus as hard as possible in the shin in an effort to defend her. No doubt Rufus remembered the incident keenly, which contributed to his hatred of Max.
“I must return to see how the rest of the unpacking is going,” Volusia said, her voice turning brisk. “It was very nice to see you, Max.” She nodded to him, then turned and walked further into the house.
Max watched her go, a tugging feeling in his chest urging him to follow her. He ignored it, and resumed his post by the door.
Chapter 4
Ten years ago
Praiseallthegods,it was almost over. Max’s adoptive father’s year as consul was nearing its end. In a matter of weeks, Max would be free from his suffocating position in one of Rome’s two most scrutinized families.
