Page 38 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

She sounds… empty. As though the tears she must have shed drained every ounce of affection she once held for me, leaving nothing but blankness.

“I’m sorry.” My words tumble out in a rush. “I was a fucker. Not just tonight, but these past weeks. I let memories of who I was—who I never want to be again—poison everything good here. Everything good between us.”

She doesn’t invite me in. Instead, she leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest like armor. “You hurt me. You hurt everyone here.”

“I know.” After one step forward, I catch myself and retreat when she tenses. “I can’t undo what I did. But I want to make amends, if you’ll let me. Just tell me how I can win back your… trust.” I almost said affection, but that would be far too much to ask.

She studies me, eyes narrowed, as though she’s searching for any trace of the arrogant patrician who wounded her—wounded all my friends—so deeply. Instead, I let her see only remorse and determination.

“It doesn’t matter.” Her voice is hollow as she shrugs. “I’ve decided to leave Second Chance.”

My blood runs cold and suddenly I can’t feel my body. “Leaving?”

“I’ve already texted Laura. Told her I’ll stay until I find and train my replacement.”

“Diana, please—” I start forward again, but she holds up her hand like a shield between us.

“Don’t.” Her voice shakes. “You don’t get to ask me to stay. Not after everything you’ve done.” She grips her throat, covering her most vulnerable flesh as though she fears I might cross the space to attack her physically. “I’m canceling tomorrow’s lesson, but will see you the day after at our regular time.”

My hands clench at my sides, fighting the urge to grab her, kiss her, show her exactly what she’s walking away from. But I force myself to stay still, knowing this isn’t the time.

She straightens and tries to pull her face into the professional expression she uses with new students. “I hope you won’t let your personal feelings interfere with your therapy. It’s done wonders for your strength and stamina, and I hope you choose to continue your lessons. We can both be adults about it.”

She turns to leave, then pivots back to stare at me, her expression cold as ice.

“And one more thing.” Her nostrils flare, lips pursed. “There will be no reconciliation. I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, and one thing I’ve learned. It’s never wise to go backward.”

After she closes the door, I’m left standing in the cool night air, my world spinning off its axis.

Chapter Thirty

Cassius

I wake as I went to sleep—my mind a whirlwind of disturbing thoughts and emotions. I’ve barely slept, the events of last night replaying in an endless loop.

Diana’s face, hurt and disappointed, haunts me. The warmth of her touch, the softness of her smile—these memories war with the harsh words we exchanged. She’s ready to leave this place that she loves. All because of me. I want to go to her, to beg again for forgiveness, to promise to make things right. But something holds me back.

As I lie here, staring at the ceiling, I try to reconcile my feelings for Diana with the memories that have been flooding back. The patrician in me, the son of a senator, recoils at the thought of a woman like her. She told me she has little education, no familyname, no connections. I see her in my mind’s eye—hair hastily pulled back, boots caked with mud from the stables.

Suddenly, the world around me fades, and I’m transported to another time and place.

I’m standing in my father’s study, the scent of old parchment and expensive oils filling the air. My father, resplendent in his senatorial toga, paces before me.

“Remember, Cassius,” he says, his voice stern but not unkind. “The woman you marry will be a reflection of our family. She must be beautiful, of course—that goes without saying. But more importantly, she must be fertile. We need heirs to carry on the Cornelii name.”

I nod, absorbing his words. “Of course, Father.”

“And connections, Cassius,” he continues. “The right marriage can open doors in the Senate that might otherwise remain closed. Think of your future, of your political aspirations. The woman you choose should bring wealth, influence, and a good name to our family.”

The memory fades, leaving me more confused than ever. Diana is beautiful, yes, but in an unconventional way. And while she’s kind and compassionate, qualities I’ve come to value, she brings none of the political or economic advantages my father spoke of.

Yet, when I think of her smile, the way her eyes light up when she talks about the horses, the gentle way she guides the troubled youth—my heart swells with an emotion I can’t quite name.

The distant whir of helicopter blades interrupts my thoughts. Confused, I sit up in bed. There’s only one person who arrives at the compound in a helicopter.

Is it just my foul mood that makes me wonder if this is just more bad news winging its way to my doorstep?

Chapter Thirty-One

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