Page 58 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

And maybe in the way Diana looks at me when she thinks I’m not watching.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Diana

The distinctive whir of helicopter blades sends my stomach into free fall before I even spot Dara’s sleek aircraft descending toward Second Chance. I set my fork on my dessert plate, watching from the dining hall window as she emerges, impossibly elegant in a tailored suit and those trademark stilettos that probably cost more than my monthly salary.

In spite of the wind kicked up by the helicopter blades, her hair somehow remains perfect. I resist the urge to smooth down my flyaway strands or hide my rough, work-worn hands. What’s the point? Next to her polished perfection, I’ll always look… common.

“Diana?” Laura touches my arm, making me jump. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I lie, though there’s an edge to my voice. Laura knows about my feelings for Cassius. I couldn’t hide it if I tried. She told me how Dara called after Cassius fled the gala, trying to arrange another meeting with him. He refused, but still… seeing her here, watching her stride toward the dining hall with predatory grace makes my stomach clench.

The dining hall door swings open, and Dara’s expensive perfume fills the air so fast it defies the laws of physics. My nose, used to the honest smells of hay and horses, wrinkles slightly.

She makes a show of greeting everyone, but her gaze keeps returning to Cassius. Of course it does. He stands out among the other gladiators—not because of his height or his looks (though lord knows he has both), but because of how he carries himself now. There’s a quiet dignity to him that draws the eye.

I slide into a seat at the end of the table, pretending to be lost in thought. But every cell in my body is attuned to their interaction as Dara claims the seat next to Cassius.

“You’re looking well,” she purrs, and I hate how my chest tightens at her tone. “Life here clearly agrees with you.”

“It does. The work we’re doing with the youth program is rewarding.” The warmth in his voice when he talks about Second Chance makes my heart flutter treacherously.

“About that.” Dara leans closer, her red lacquered nails drumming on the table. “I’m going to forgive you for disappearing on me at the gala. I’m sure it was overwhelming for you. I apologize for putting you through that, should have knownit would be like throwing a goldfish into a tank of piranhas. However, I have a proposition for you.”

I swallow and quit pretending I’m not listening to every word. Around the room, others are similarly frozen as the background noise grinds to a halt, all the better to hear the conversation.

“I’m expanding my cultural heritage foundation,” Dara continues. “We need someone to be the face of our ancient worlds program. Speaking engagements, museum openings, educational initiatives… Someone who can bridge the gap between past and present. Kind of a walking history lesson. It’s obvious by your speech and the way you carry yourself that you were more than just an uneducated gladiator slave. You’d be perfect.”

I notice the tight, angry expressions on some of the other gladiators’ faces at her demeaning words as she compares them unfavorably to Cassius. Does she know about his patrician background? It’s hard to picture him telling her that. They were only together for a day.

My heart sinks at the thought of him taking this job, although it’s perfect for him. With all his high-born education, his natural charm, and his deepening understanding of both worlds—he’d be amazing at it.

“The position comes with a generous salary, a spacious apartment in New York, travel opportunities, connections to important people…” Dara’s voice drops lower, becoming more intimate. “You could do so much good on a larger scale, Cassius.Think of how many people you could reach, how many lives you could influence.”

I close my eyes, already picturing it. Cassius in tailored suits, commanding attention in prestigious venues, finally reclaiming the status he was born to. My throat feels tight. He’d be a fool to turn it down.

“You’re very kind to think of me.” Cassius’s voice is gentle but firm. “But my place is here.”

My eyes fly wide. Surely I heard wrong.

“Think about it,” Dara presses. “You’d have resources, influence, a platform to make real change on a grand scale…”

“I am making real change.” There’s no pride in his voice, just quiet certainty. “Every time Jason masters his anger instead of letting it master him. Every time Alex stands a little taller, more confident in who they are. Every time one of our kids learns they’re worth more than their past mistakes or their current circumstances.”

The room has gone completely still. Even Dara seems taken aback by his response.

“But surely,” she tries again, “with your background, your education…”

“My background taught me that status and influence were everything.” Cassius’s words hit me like physical blows. “It tooklosing my memories, waking up in this time, making every possible mistake… to learn what really matters.”

He glances around the room—at Thrax and Flavius who have been teaching Latin and learning English with the teens, at Quintus teaching one of the younger kids to play chess, at Laura and Varro building this impossible, wonderful family of misfits and second chances. Then his gaze lands on me, seeming to pierce me to my very soul.

Something cracks open inside my chest. All my carefully constructed walls, my determined professional distance, my self-protection against hoping… they crumble like sandcastles in the tide.

This isn’t the arrogant patrician who sneered at others’ common speech. This isn’t the lost, angry man who lashed out in confusion and pride. This is someone new—or maybe this is who he always was, underneath all the layers of privilege and pain.

“I appreciate the offer,” he tells Dara, “but my work is here. These kids, this program… this is where I belong. Speak with Quintus. He might be perfect for what you’re looking for.” He tips his chin toward the handsome, graying man.

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