Page 39 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius (Awakened From the Ice #3)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

D iana

The regular morning routine of cleaning the horses’ hooves doesn’t calm me as it usually does. Nothing could cool my irritation at the news that Cassius is back. Laura texted me twice last night. Once to tell me about Dara’s frantic call, reporting that he’d bolted from the gala and disappeared, and again to say he’d been found and was on his way back to Second Chance.

My emotions have been all over the place, from relief that he’s safe to aggravation that he’s returned. Of course, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still care for him, even though I know I shouldn’t after the awful things he said to me.

I’ve avoided running into him all morning, but I know I can’t hide in the barn forever.

As if summoned by my thoughts, I hear footsteps. My heart lurches as I recognize his particular stride—confident but measured. I don’t turn around.

“Diana?” His voice is soft, hesitant in a way I’ve never heard before. “May I speak with you?”

I straighten, squaring my shoulders before facing him. The sight of him hits me harder than I expected. He looks… different. Humbled, somehow. The arrogant tilt of his chin is gone, replaced by something more genuine.

“I’m working,” I say, proud of how steady my voice sounds. “Catch me after hours… if you must.”

“Please. Five minutes.”

I gesture for him to continue, keeping Atlas between us like a shield.

“I was a fucker,” he begins. “Not just that night, but in the weeks leading up to it. I let memories of who I was—who I never want to be again—poison everything good here. Everything good between us.”

His sincerity catches me off guard. I expected excuses, perhaps even blame. Not raw honesty.

“You hurt me,” I say simply, then shrug. “But we’ve already covered that. Why are you here? I’m happy to resume your equestrian therapy.”

“Thank you, Diana. That’s kind of you to offer.”

I wish he wouldn’t say my name. It reminds me of the way it felt when he was inside of me, whispering my name with what, at the time, felt like… adoration.

He takes a step forward, then seems to think better of it. “I can’t undo what I did. But I want to make amends, if you’ll let me. I want to help with the program, in whatever capacity you wish.”

I study him, searching for any trace of the arrogant patrician who wounded me—wounded so many of us—so deeply. Instead, I see only remorse and determination.

“Sure. It doesn’t matter.” I try to pull off a nonchalant shrug. “I haven’t changed my mind about leaving.”

His face pales. “Leaving?”

“I’ve already spoken with Laura. I just need to find and then train my replacement.”

“Diana, please—” He starts forward again, but Atlas shifts between us, sensing my tension.

“Don’t.” I hold up my hand. “You don’t get to ask me to stay. Not after all you’ve done.”

“But I do.” Laura’s voice makes us both jump. She stands next to Varro in the barn doorway, arms crossed.

“We need you here,” Varro adds. “The program needs you. The men need you. The kids need you.”

“And if Cassius wants to help,” Laura continues, “he’ll do so under your direction. Your rules. Your boundaries.”

I look between them, feeling blindsided and cornered. “I can’t—”

“You can,” Laura interrupts. “You’re stronger than you think. Remember, I know your secrets.” Panic swamps me for a moment as I wonder what she’s about to divulge. “You told me how much you love this job. It’s your Kryptonite. And you’re too invested and too good at it to let one man drive you away.”

One man. As if Cassius were just any man. As if seeing him every day wouldn’t be exquisite torture.

“Fine,” I finally say. “I’ll stay. But there will be rules.”

“Anything,” Cassius agrees almost too quickly.

I turn to him, steeling myself. “You’ll work where and when I tell you. No unauthorized contact with the kids. No decisions without consulting me first. And most importantly—” I meet his eyes directly, “—we keep things strictly professional. No private conversations, no lingering looks, no… anything.”

“Of course.” Is it my imagination, or does he look pained? When I give him a closer look, his gaze flicks from mine.

After all three of them leave, I lean against Atlas’s warm side, suddenly exhausted. Why does Cassius still affect me this way? Even now, after everything, my body hums with awareness when he’s near. It would be easier if I could hate him, if I could look at him and feel nothing but contempt.

But I saw genuine remorse in his eyes. Genuine desire to make amends. And underneath it all, I saw the man I fell for—not the arrogant patrician, but the caring, thoughtful soul I glimpsed during our first weeks together.

“Stop it,” I mutter to myself, stepping away from Atlas. It doesn’t matter how sincere he seems or how my body reacts to his presence. I can’t risk losing my heart again.

I grab a curry comb and groom Atlas with perhaps more vigor than necessary. I have a program to run, gladiators and kids to help, and a professional relationship to maintain. Everything else—the lingering attraction, the what-ifs, the maybes—needs to stay buried.

Even if burying it feels like killing a piece of my soul along with it.