Page 30 of The Legionary Seduction (Roman Heirs #2)

He trades in foreign goods, not love—but when his greatest rival offers an erotic education in exchange for a truce, both of their hearts may be captured in the bargain.

In the Roman port city of Ostia, a fierce rivalry wages in the world of trade. After losing her husband to a shipwreck, Lucretia has devoted herself to keeping his shipping business afloat, clinging to the independence it offers her. Felix, her scheming rival, strives for total control over commerce in Ostia, which requires toppling Lucretia's enterprise and seizing her ships for himself.

Unfortunately for Felix, it's not just Lucretia's ships he desires. Her cool smile and calm competence shred his focus and scramble his thoughts, even as he plots sabotage. Even worse, he's been too busy building his business empire to dally with women…ever.

When Lucretia discovers both how much he wants her and that he's as inexperienced as a Vestal Virgin, she decides to use this to her advantage—proposing a truce in exchange for initiating Felix into the ways of the flesh. Their heated encounters blur the line between business and pleasure, and soon pleasure turns to something deeper. Despite never wanting to remarry, Lucretia finds herself contemplating a partnership with Felix, in business as well as life.

But when Felix uncovers a secret that could vanquish Lucretia once and for all, he realizes the unthinkable has happened: he's falling for the woman he should want to destroy. His dream of ruling trade in Ostia is finally at his fingertips, but he must decide what he wants more: Lucretia's ships, or her heart.

Chapter 1

Lucretia frowned at the results on the abacus before her. Calculations worked themselves out in her brain. A small sum of money—about twenty sestertii—was missing from her accounts. She hoped she’d just made a mistake with her accounting, but such a calculation error was unlike her. As the second most powerful merchant in Ostia, she couldn’t afford mistakes, even over a few sestertii.

She had a sneaking suspicion as to where the money went, but she was loath to admit it to herself. Surely Marcus, her fourteen-year-old son, knew better than to pilfer from her accounts.

But it was the sort of thing a rebellious adolescent might do, and ever since his father’s death last year, Marcus had been even more prone to such unruly habits. His great passion these days was chariot racing, and he was constantly betting on the latest races. To be fair, he did win more than he lost.

With a sigh, she pushed the wax tablet away and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes to soothe the persistent throbbing in her skull. A thieving son was the last thing she needed.

A tap came at the door, and Lucretia lifted her gaze to see Dihya, her friend and colleague, poking her head into the back room of their two-room office. “Lucius Avitus Felix is here. Again.” Dihya’s expressive mouth twisted in distaste. “Shall I tell him you’re busy?”

Lucretia groaned. Lucius Avitus Felix was one of the richest men in Ostia and the proprietor of the city’s largest shipping venture. He had been her late husband’s perpetual rival, locked in a never-ending competition for who had the most ships, the best profit margins, the fastest shipments, the most sought-after products. Felix, somehow, had always managed to maintain a slight edge over Cornelius.

Now that his rival was dead, Felix had turned his attention to Lucretia. But he wasn’t just trying to beat her. He was trying to remove her from the game entirely.

“I’ll see him,” she muttered. If he wanted to speak to her, he wouldn’t leave until he did, so better to get this over with.

Dihya nodded and withdrew. Lucretia busied herself tidying her desk, pushing aside the abacus and neatening her stacks of paper. Her office was small, little more than a cell, with most of its space taken up by crates and boxes full of records going back decades, to the very start of Cornelius’s business. A few chests contained money for everyday expenses, though the bulk of her capital was stored at the temple bank, safeguarded by priests and the gods. On the corner of her desk, a lamp burned lavender scented oil, diffusing a pleasant smell into the air and providing some extra light in addition to the single window cut high into the wall.

Lucius Avitus Felix entered her office. Tall and lean, he wore an ankle-length tunic of dark blue, which complemented his fair complexion and dark hair.

She chided herself for noticing such things. “Felix,” she greeted him, gesturing to the chair opposite her desk.

He nodded to her and sat. “Lucretia.” His eyes, the gray of a bleak winter morning, moved over her and their surroundings with dispassionate efficiency, as if cataloguing every detail to file away in his head for some future purpose. She hadn’t given him much to notice—or so she thought.

His eyes fixed on her face. “You look tired.”

Her eyebrows shot up, but she forced herself to moderate her expression. He wasn’t usually outright rude, but everything Felix said and did was calculated several times over. So if he was being rude, it was likely to get a reaction from her.

She levelled her chin at him. “If there’s something you wished to discuss other than my appearance, please get to the point. I’m busy.”

He surveyed her for another moment, eyes flicking from her face to her left hand, where she used to wear Cornelius’s ring. She resisted the urge to slide her hand beneath the nearest piece of papyrus.

“I’ve come with a proposition for you,” he finally said. His voice warmed, losing its cool, clipped quality. “I would like to offer you something of great value.” He even smiled at her, a charming mask settling over his face as if they were making conversation at a dinner party.

Lucretia tried to ignore the flip her stomach gave at his smile. She had always—guiltily—found Felix handsome, even when she’d been happily married to Cornelius. Felix’s cold, scheming personality irked her, but she couldn’t deny that his face didn’t generate quite the same reaction. “And what is that?”

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the edge of her desk. “My hand in marriage.”

She choked on a laugh, which made her cough. When she recovered her breath, she grinned at him. Triumph rose in her chest. “You are really so threatened by my business that you would tie yourself to me in marriage just so you can control my ships?”

She knew better than to think there was any romantic feeling underlying this ridiculous proposal. Once, several years ago, he had attempted a flirtation, but her quick rejection had ended any further overtures of that sort.

No, this proposal had a different motivation. In the year since Cornelius died, Felix had been steadily trying several different angles to induce her to sell her ships to him. First, a generous cash offer. Then an even more generous one.

When simple money didn’t work, he became more persuasive, trying to remind her how difficult and time-consuming it was to manage a business operation like this. Surely she would prefer to devote her time and energy to raising her son or securing a new husband. Surely she didn’t want the hassle and stress of managing a business.

While it could be stressful at times, this business was Lucretia’s greatest chance at independence, at carving out a life for herself and Marcus where they were beholden to no one. Cornelius had given her a great gift in leaving the business to her, and she wasn’t about to squander it. One day, her ships would be her son’s legacy, and she was determined to make them as successful as possible.

Felix, composed as always, showed no discomfiture at her reaction. “I can give you security. A comfortable life. My house is twice the size of yours, if I’m not mistaken. Additionally, I have a summer residence at Baiae with sweeping water views. You and Marcus could spend as much time there as you wish. Speaking of Marcus, it could benefit the boy to have a stepfather to smooth his path as he comes of age. And you must be lonely without Cornelius. I could offer you companionship, should you wish it.”

A blush stole across her cheeks at his last words. Did he mean social companionship, or was he suggesting companionship of a more… marital sort?

Either way, it was impossible.

“Of course, your shipping enterprise would serve as dowry, as your father is no longer living and cannot provide you with one,” he continued.

She raised an eyebrow. “If I were to divorce you, I would take everything back.” And while she might legally retain control of her own property in marriage, her husband would become her legal guardian and would have to consent to any decisions she made. That would effectively give Felix total control over her holdings.

He nodded. “A risk I am willing to take—that I will give you no reason to dissolve our marriage. You would have complete freedom. You would not have to spend your days poring over account books or negotiating with suppliers. You could do exactly as you please.”

“I am doing exactly as I please,” she replied. “If you really think I would give up everything I’ve built just for the promise of a bigger house and some vacations to Baiae…” She shook her head. “I refuse your proposal.”

His eyes narrowed, the charming mask slipping. “I have made you several generous offers, Lucretia, this last one being the most generous of all. I have treated you like a respected associate. But allow me to advise you that this will be my last offer. If you maintain your refusal, you will no longer be my colleague, but my adversary. And my adversaries do not last long.”

That was true enough; for the last several years, Felix had dedicated himself to picking off competing shipping enterprises one by one, whether through undercutting their prices, overtaking their supplier relationships, poaching their investors, or simply convincing them to sell their ships. Lucretia was now the last major competitor in Ostia. If she folded, Felix would control the entire flow of goods into and out of the port city, which could have disastrous consequences if his greed took over.

So she would stand against him, if it came to it. She would risk whatever it took to maintain her independence, and she certainly wouldn’t accept his offer of marriage.

“My refusal stands.”

“Perhaps you wish to think about it.”

She rose to her feet, a gesture of dismissal. “I trust you’ll have no further reason to speak to me again.”

A muscle pulsed in his jaw. He stood in a quick, spare movement, and cast her one long, dark glance before he turned for the door.

Lucretia waited until she heard the outer door to their office open and close before sinking back into her chair. She let out a long breath. She wasn’t thrilled at the idea of having Felix for an enemy, but she owed it to Ostia—and possibly the entire Roman economy—to stand against him.

Felix walked away from Lucretia’s office, passing through the Square of the Guilds where all of Ostia’s commerce centered. He tried and failed to unclench his jaw. He had planned to return to his own office, on the opposite side of the square from Lucretia’s, but now he was too irritated to get any work done. Better to take a brisk walk to work off his frustration.

Lucretia’s calm refusal of his best offer rankled him. Who did she think she was playing with? She had to be the only woman in Ostia who would refuse a marriage proposal from him.

Unluckily for him, Lucretia was the only one he had any interest in marrying.

Purely for business reasons, of course. If he couldn’t convince Lucretia to sell her ships to him outright, then he’d thought offering a lifetime of security and a respected stepfather for her son would sway her.

His proposal had certainly had nothing to do with the fact that thoughts of her had filled his mind ever since they first met years ago, when she was still married to Cornelius. Her shining auburn hair, her quick wit and delicate laugh. Her tempting figure, always hidden beneath a loose dress.

Five years ago, she had also refused him—though that proposal had been of a more prurient nature than the one he’d made today. His inelegant, fumbling advance had left him deeply embarrassed, and he had never approached her again in such a manner.

It had been a simple thing to quietly lust after her when she was nothing more than his rival’s wife. But now, a year after Cornelius’s death, Lucretia herself had become his greatest rival. A layer of regard had built—unwillingly—alongside his attraction to her. She had managed to maintain and even grow her husband’s business. Somehow, she had convinced the captains of her ships to stay with her and had preserved Cornelius’s relationships with merchants and suppliers from Massilia to New Carthage. It made him wonder if perhaps she had been more involved with the business during Cornelius’s lifetime than Felix had realized, if her husband’s key contacts were willing to trust her without batting an eye.

He hated the way he felt around her. Though he strove to avoid her, Ostia’s small social circle threw them together more often than not. Whenever they were in the same room, his attention was drawn to her like a hapless moth to a flame. She scrambled his focus, rendering his other conversations a blur of half-understood words.

On a few occasions, in a particularly crowded room, they’d touched, and each brief moment of contact was branded onto his mind. There was the time her shoulder had brushed his arm when she’d stepped aside to make room for someone to pass. Then the time when her knee had bumped him as she’d risen from the dining couch. Most memorably, she’d once stumbled into him, jostled by someone behind her, and her entire body had pressed against his for one breathless, heated moment. Much as he resented his reaction to her, he hoarded those little moments like Croesus hoarded gold.

But Felix would not let Lucretia’s allure blind him. She was standing in the way of his goal to monopolize shipping to and from Ostia, and he would find a way to remove her from his path.

As he made his way through the streets, leaving the colonnaded central square behind, a commotion down a side street caught his attention. He paused, glancing into the shadowy alley. It was just a group of adolescent boys, embroiled in a scuffle.

He made to keep walking, but the nature of the scuffle kept his focus. It didn’t seem to be an ordinary, evenly matched brawl, but a three-on-one beating. The boy at the middle of it all was curled into a ball, trying to protect his face from the kicks and punches of the others.

Distaste curled in his stomach. Felix had occasionally been the victim of such torment as a child. If there was one thing he couldn’t abide, it was an unfair fight. Nowadays, he visited the gymnasium twice a week to spar with his fists and had developed into a highly capable boxer, but as a boy, he’d been too often targeted for beatings, until his mother, Volusia, had removed him from school and secured private tutors.

Well, he was overdue for a training session, so dispatching these bullies would serve two purposes.

Felix strode into the alley and grabbed the closest boy by the neck of his tunic. He hauled him off the victim and shoved him toward the wall of the alley. The second boy turned to Felix with a snarl and aimed a punch, but Felix deflected the blow easily and rewarded the boy with a cuff to the side of his head that sent the boy reeling to the dirt.

The third boy took a step back, his gaze flicking between Felix and his two comrades, both attempting to drag themselves to their feet.

Felix narrowed his eyes. “Go.”

The boy turned and ran. The other two stumbled after him, leaving Felix alone in the alley with their erstwhile victim.

The adolescent hauled himself to his feet, brushing dirt off his knee-length tunic. A few scrapes and bruises marred his arms and legs, but he didn’t seem to be seriously injured. “Thank you,” he muttered.

Based on the tenor of his voice, Felix put the boy’s age at fourteen or fifteen. He was scrawny for his age, though, which was likely at least part of the reason he’d been targeted. Boys like his attackers loved an easy victim.

“I’ve been in your position more than I’d like to admit,” Felix replied. “Not particularly enjoyable, is it?”

The boy shook his head, inspecting a scrape on his elbow with a frown. There was something about him that seemed familiar. Something about the coppery sheen of his hair tugged at a thread of recognition, but Felix couldn’t place it.

“Do I know you?” Felix asked. “What’s your name?”

The boy glanced up, meeting his gaze with hazel eyes that sent another pang of familiarity through Felix. “Marcus Cornelius.”

Cornelius. “Lucretia’s son,” he realized out loud with a jolt. He had never actually met Lucretia’s fourteen-year-old son, but now he clearly saw the resemblance. Marcus’s hair was a few shades browner than Lucretia’s rich auburn, but they had the same eyes and even the same pointed shape to their chins.

Marcus narrowed his eyes. “You know my mother?”

“Yes.” And I’m trying very hard to ruin her. “My name is Lucius Avitus Felix.”

Recognition dawned on Marcus’s face. “I know you. Mother says you—” He bit back the words, flushing. “Never mind.”

Felix could imagine the sort of things Lucretia would say about him. Grasping. Greedy. Money-grubbing. Ruthless. “You should get home,” he said. “Before she starts to worry.” He nodded to the boy, then turned and left the alley.