“Are you ready to declare a truce?” she asked, her voice somehow sultry despite the mercenary subject matter. “Restore balance to shipping in Ostia. I will continue my trade in the western Mediterranean, and you can have the east.”
Felix struggled to focus on her words and not the sensations her proximity was arousing. He was no stranger to stirrings of lust, but when they related to other women, such feelings were easily ignored, like a gentle summer breeze.
His reaction to Lucretia, however, was a maelstrom, winds howling and whipping, destructive and powerful. This must be one of Venus’s cruel tricks, to make him long for the one woman he had to destroy.
Her lips parted as she awaited his answer. His body urged him to kiss her, to taste that sweet mouth, but there was categorically no way she would welcome an advance from him, and he didn’t fancy ending this encounter with a slap.
The thought of Lucretia’s horrified reaction if she discovered his feelings toward her doused his desire and cleared his head. “No truce,” he finally managed, voice rasping. Before her allure could ensnare him again, he turned and fled the office.
Chapter 9
Five years ago
Felix surveyed the crowded dining room from its periphery, the red-painted wall at his back. He had just settled into Ostia a week ago, and this was his first social outing—a dinner party hosted by an acquaintance of his mother. He knew no one else in Ostia, so this would be an important step in making connections, building alliances, and identifying his enemies.
The sweet scent of perfumed oil from several lit candelabra mixed with the savory aroma of food, as appetizers circulated on trays borne by slaves throughout the mingling guests. In the opposite corner of the room, a musician strummed a cithara, its notes blending into the hum of conversation and laughter.
His gaze flicked over the assembled people, trying to glean what he could from their interactions. He pinpointed a few married couples, as well as one couple flirting who definitelyweren’t married to each other. Then there was a small group of women talking amongst themselves, and a corresponding group of men. The women kept glancing over at the men, and Felix suspected they were complaining about their husbands.
A throat cleared next to him and a female voice spoke. “Excuse me, sir, but this is a dinner party, not a chariot race.”
Felix blinked, pulling himself out of his analysis, and looked to his left. A woman—abeautifulwoman—regarded him with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile. She wore a dress of emerald green, belted at the waist with a thin gold chain. Her hair gleamed bronze in the flickering lamplight. A red carnelian necklace encircled her throat, echoing the color of her hair. Her hazel eyes commanded Felix’s attention—pools of inviting warmth he would be happy to drown in.
As soon as that ridiculous sentiment occurred to him, he chided himself. Women, as a rule, did not catch Felix’s notice like this. Of course, he could appreciate a woman’s beauty. But he was not the sort of man to be rendered weak-kneed and bewildered by a pretty smile or tempting figure.
She’d spoken to him, and he had to say something back. What had she said, something about a chariot race? “Beg pardon?” he managed.
Her smile grew, bringing further light to her eyes. That smile seemed to warm him all the way down to his toes. “You’re watching the party like my son watches a chariot race. Trying to figure out who’s taking the lead, who might be about to make a move for a better position, who’s on the verge of crashing.”
A prickle of discomfort crept over him at how quickly she had assessed the direction of his thoughts. “I’m new to Ostia,” he said in defense. “I was merely trying to get the lay of the land.”
“I see,” she said, taking a sip from the wine cup held in her delicate fingers. “I thought you looked unfamiliar. My name is Lucretia.”
He nodded to her. “Lucius Avitus Felix.”
“Where have you moved here from?”
“Rome,” he answered. Was she the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen? His brain attempted to flick through the faces of other women he knew, eager to compare her to her peers, but suddenly his mind was blank, hers the only face he could conjure.
“Ah, the big city. Ostia must seem like a sleepy little village in comparison.” The noise in the room behind them—which Felix had momentarily forgotten existed—swelled as a burst of laughter rang out from another cluster of people, and Lucretia stepped closer to him to hear his response. The folds of her dress touched the fabric of his tunic, and he felt the whisper of contact like a flame.
Dis, what was wrong with him? Or was this how other men felt around those they desired? He’d often noticed that he didn’t have quite the same interest in pursuing carnal pleasures, either with women or with men, as others of his set. As a younger man, when his peers were extolling the skills of this or that popular courtesan, Felix had found more interest in his studies. And now he simply didn’t have time for such indulgences. At the end of a long day spent negotiating with shipbuilders or meeting with artisans to get the best price on their wares, all he wanted to do was fall into bed on his own.
But this woman cast his celibacy into doubt. Suddenly, he became acutely aware of what he’d been missing.
Lucretia tilted her head, waiting for a response, and he struggled to turn his mind back to what they were discussing.Rome…Ostia…sleepy little village…
“On the contrary,” he replied. “Ostia has a certain energy that Rome lacks. The merchants and sailors, hailing from all over the world…Rome feels stagnant by comparison.” Rome, while large,was full of politicians and social climbers, and Ostia’s single-minded focus on commerce and trade was refreshing.
Someone passing too close jostled Lucretia from behind, and she stumbled forward a step, colliding with him. For one brief, delicious moment, her body—her warm, soft body—pressed against him from shoulder to hip. The banked desire kindled by the mere sight of her flared to life. A tingle of heat spread over his skin, an unaccustomed, restless feeling.
The gallant thing to do would have been to gently catch her arm and help her find her feet. But Felix’s mind was too addled by her proximity to act, and by the time he’d mastered himself, she had already separated herself with a murmured apology.
“I will leave you to your surveillance, Lucius Avitus Felix.” She inclined her head. “I must rejoin my husband.” She swept away, her brilliant green skirts trailing in her wake.
The wordhusbandsent an unpleasant but absurd pang through him. Of course she was married. She appeared to be in her late twenties, perhaps a handful of years older than him, and she had mentioned a son.
Felix watched as she went up to the cluster of men and slid between two of them, effortlessly inserting herself into their group. The man to her right rested a possessive hand on the small of her back. Felix’s gaze snapped to his face.
