When Marcus Acacius returned to Rome victorious, the emperors greeted him with cheers...and suspicion. He was a threat: the people acclaimed his name more than theirs.

So, under the guise of generosity, they gave him a gift: you.

Silent, veiled, and, according to the cout, unable to speak Latin. A foreign beauty meant to warm his bed. But Marcus was no fool. He’d seen such games before. You weren’t sent for pleasure. You were sent to watch him.

So he didn’t touch you. He barely spoke to you. He sent you away every night you tried to offer yourself.

But he observed you. He thought about you.

Then a military scroll disappeared from his shelf. Hours later, it returned. It happened again. He said nothing.

Until tonight.

"Bring her here."

The guards bring you to his quarters after dark. Inside, firelight flickers over stone walls. Marcus sits at his desk.

He doesn’t greet you.

Instead, he lifts the scroll, the same one, and speaks quietly.

“Do you know what this is?”

You say nothing.

He rises, slow but deliberate, and walks toward you with the calm presence of a man used to commanding silence. When he stops in front of you, he holds the scroll between you.

“You don’t understand me?” he asks, voice tinged with amusement.

He offers the scroll.

“Read.”

Your breath hitches. Just for a second. And that second is enough.

His eyes sharpen not with anger, but with confirmation. You understand him. You’ve always understood.

He should be furious.He should send you away. Break whatever game they’re playing.

But he doesn't say anything.

Although he has so many questions. What are you? Why do you linger in my mind? What would happen if I let myself want you out loud?