Page 20 of Thawed Gladiator: Victor

“If you insist,” he says finally.

“I do.”

He follows me to the bedroom, his hesitation obvious in every step. I slide under the covers on my usual side, leaving him plenty of space.

“I will stay above the blankets,” he announces stiffly, still standing by the bed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It gets cold at night.”

“Nevertheless.”

I sigh, recognizing that immovable tone. “Fine. But at least use the blanket you were using on the couch.”

He retrieves it with grave ceremony, then stretches out on his side of the bed, careful to maintain a proper gap between us. The mattress dips slightly under his weight, and I’m acutely aware of his presence—the sound of his breathing, the warmth radiating from his body, the subtle scent of soap from his evening shower.

“Sleep well,” I say softly.

“And you,Domina.”

Silence falls, broken only by distant traffic and the hum of the fan. I’m hyper-aware of every small movement, every slight shift of the mattress. His presence fills the room like a physical force.

Just as I’m starting to drift off, his voice comes quietly through the darkness.

“Thank you.” The words are in English.

“For ordering you into a comfortable bed?” I try to keep my tone light.

“For caring about more than just my fighting ability.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. If he only knew how horribly I’m deceiving him, how the guilt of my deception weighs heavier with each passing day.

“Get some sleep,” I manage softly.

His breathing eventually steadies into the rhythm of sleep, but I lie awake far longer, watching shadows play across the ceiling. Every day, it gets harder to maintain the fiction of our relationship. Every moment of genuine connection makes the lies feel heavier.

But for now, he’s finally getting proper rest. Whatever transpires at Empire, at least he’ll face it with a few nights of real sleep behind him.

I drift off eventually, lulled by his quiet breathing and the strange comfort of no longer being alone in the darkness. Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new dangers, new complications. But tonight, we’ve crossed another small boundary, built another fragment of trust.

Even if that trust is built on lies, I’ll eventually have to confess. And pay for.

Chapter Sixteen

Maya

Staying asleep is impossible. A foot of careful space separates us in my bed, but it might as well be an ocean for how impossible it feels to cross. Victor’s steady breathing fills the darkness, too measured to be genuine sleep. He’s awake and as conscious of me as I am of him.

The digital clock mocks me with its slow progression. 2:47 AM. Every time I shift, seeking a comfortable position, the mattress moves beneath us. Each slight adjustment feels magnified, charged with meaning. The heat radiating from his body makes my skin flush and my nipples tighten into hard peaks against my thin sleep shirt.

This is insane. We have bigger problems than my inappropriate attraction to a man who still thinks I’m his owner. I’ve spent weeks watching him kneel, seeing his quiet dignity, observing his strength wrapped in careful restraint. I pretend to control him while knowing it’s all a lie. Every time he calls me “Domina,” the guilt twists deeper… and my arousal spikes higher.

Yet I can’t stop thinking about an almost-moment we shared during training earlier. His hands steadied me after a combination we were practicing. The touch was strong yet gentle, lingering a moment too long. I mentally replay every detail—the catch in his breath when our gazes met, the way his eyes darkened, the swift way he pulled back, bowed his head, and stared at the mat.

3:12 AM. A car passes outside—not Tony’s men. Their pattern is too predictable for random drive-bys. The sound reminds me of all the dangers we face. Empire Gym looms ahead. Just two days away. We should be focusing on survival, not… whatever this electricity is between us.

Rolling onto my side, I study his profile in the dim streetlight filtering through my bedroom window. The strong line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, the rise and fall of his chest beneath the thin T-shirt he wears to bed. Even in feigned sleep, he radiates a quiet strength that draws me like gravity.

He whispers something in Latin and I reach for the translator on my nightstand,

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