30. Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

M arcus Fabius Varro

A day has passed since I began threshing the tall grasses, and now the sheaves are neatly bundled, ready to place on the makeshift frame I constructed atop the stone structure. Although it appeared that half the roof was still intact, it was rotten. I removed all the old sheaves and all the wood. The frame, made from metal tent poles borrowed from the compound, now sits sturdy and waiting.

“Laura,” I call out, wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. “I could use your help.”

She rounds the side of the house where she was using a stick to explore for what she calls “treasures” that the previous owners tossed away. Much of the snow has melted, and it’s almost warm out. Laura’s hair is tangled by the breeze and there’s a smile playing on her lips. “At your service, gladiator. What do you need me to do?”

I can’t help but grin at her playful tone, the way her eyes sparkle when they catch sight of me. She’s a different person from the woman I first met. Then, she was wary, anxious, drawn tighter than a bowstring .

She’s looser now, though I know she still worries about a thousand things. She won’t believe me when I tell her that most of her anxiety is useless. Life handed us these circumstances. We need to make the best of them.

“I need you inside the house. After I lower this spike attached to a thick reed, you’ll stand on the stack of bins we brought from the compound and thrust it through the roof back to me.”

“Like sewing?”

“Exactly.”

As she disappears into the house, I can’t help but admire the sway of her hips, the curve of her backside. It’s a sight that’s becoming all too distracting.

I stand on Jenny’s hood—Laura threatened to use Invictus to behead me if I damaged it—and climb to kneel on the edge of the roof. The metal poles are strong and will hold steady. With each layer we put on the roof, it will become sturdier as the weight distributes more evenly.

“Ready when you are,” Laura calls from below.

I grab the first bundle of thatch and lay it in place. After lining several bundles side by side, I do just as I described, threading a sturdy reed through the bundles, then lowering what you could think of as a long, thick needle down to Laura. She pushes it back up to me as we literally sew the roof into place.

As we work together, Laura and I fall into an easy rhythm, our movements synchronized as we pass the reed back and forth through the bundles of thatch.

“You know,” she calls up, her voice echoing slightly in the empty house, “if someone had told me a few months ago that I’d be sewing a roof with a Roman gladiator, I would’ve thought they were crazy.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “If someone had told me I’d be waking up two thousand years in the future, I would’ve thought the same. ”

“Touché,” Laura laughs, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “I guess life has a way of surprising us.”

“Indeed,” I agree, lowering another bundle into place. “Though I have to say, there are worse people to be stuck alone with on this empty island.”

“Oh?” Laura’s tone is playful, teasing. “Do tell.”

I grin, even though she can’t see me. “Well, for one, you’re not bad to look at.”

She makes a sound that’s half-laugh, half-scoff. “Careful, gladiator. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Is that a promise?” I ask, my voice low and suggestive.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Laura’s voice floats up to me, soft and intimate. “Maybe. If you play your cards right.”

My chest tightens at her words, at the promise hidden beneath the playful banter. I know we’re both treading carefully, feeling out this new dynamic between us, but moments like these make me think about the future in a way I’ve never done before.

We continue working, the conversation flowing easily between flirtatious quips and more serious topics. Laura tells me about her childhood, about the dreams she had for her future before the expedition changed everything. It not only gives me an insight into who she is, but into this new world I’ve been thrust into.

Back in Rome, the only ambitions women had were to have a family and to help their husbands to a higher social status. Laura’s ambitions are personal to her, driven by passion. Though I can’t see her face, it’s so obvious from her voice that she burns to excel in her field. That she worked so hard from such a young age to find the Fortuna tells me a great deal about her.

I share snippets of my life, carefully avoiding the darker moments, the memories that still haunt me. I paint pictures of my home, the fields of grapes ripening in the sun, my lovely sisters’ laughter as they played, my father’s praises when I was clever, and my mother’s praises for nothing other than her happiness at my mere existence.

From my perch on the roof, I enjoy the sunset, as the sun dips toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink over the sea. After we secure the last bundle of thatch, I climb down from the roof, my muscles aching from the day’s labor, and step back to admire our handiwork.

“Not bad,” Laura comes to stand beside me. “We make a pretty good team.”

I glance down at her, taking in the way the fading light catches in her hair, the way her eyes shine with pride and satisfaction. “Yes,” I agree softly, my gaze never wavering from hers. “We do.”

For a moment, we just stand here, shoulder to shoulder, basking in the glow of a job well done. When she slides her hand in mine, her palm soft against my callouses, I wonder what she wants. Though it’s hard to read this woman, I’ll let her take the lead.

“Although you’ve been working all day in the hot sun and I’ve mostly been standing here, I think today was harder on me than it was on you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’ve been dying as I watch you work. I’ve been desperate to kiss you for hours.”

The memory of last night’s kiss flies through me, arrowing to my cock, which stands up and takes immediate notice.