Page 30 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius (Awakened From the Ice #3)

Chapter Thirty

C assius

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 family name, 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?