Her servant raised one eyebrow. 'Expect me to believe that?'

'There's a lot on my mind,' Fabiola offered. 'Scaevola's still about. Business isn't increasing like it should. My coffers aren't bottomless.'

'We're doing everything that can be done in those departments,' Docilosa answered stolidly. She studied Fabiola's face. 'There's more than that going on – I can see it in your eyes.'

Fabiola looked down, wishing that her servant would just leave. She was poor at concealing her emotions from Docilosa, and still wasn't ready to reveal her plan to kill Caesar. Now she had two more dirty secrets – her pleasure in having an affair with Antonius, and her shameful resentment of Romulus. Suddenly these private thoughts seemed too much to bear on her own. Fabiola glanced at Docilosa. 'I…' she faltered.

'Tell me,' Docilosa urged. 'I'm listening.'

I should explain, thought Fabiola. Every little detail. She'll understand. She did when I couldn't cope with the idea of Carrhae any longer. Fabiola's memory of her meltdown on the very day Brutus had appeared with her manumissio was strong. It was Docilosa who had listened and calmed her, before sending Fabiola out to face her lover in what had proved to be the most important meeting of her life. 'It's about Caesar,' she began. 'And Romulus. And…' Her voice dried up.

Docilosa finished Fabiola's sentence for her. 'Marcus Antonius?'

She nodded, unable to miss the stern disapproval in Docilosa's tone.

There was no time to continue the conversation. A customer had arrived. Speaking a few words to Vettius over his shoulder, he entered. A big, burly man in a plain cloak and tunic, he had a sheathed gladius hanging from a belt. It was the mark of a soldier, thought Fabiola. Then he turned towards her, and her stomach turned over. There was no mistaking the determined blue eyes, the long straight nose and the mop of curly brown hair. It was Marcus Antonius.

'Surprise!' He half bowed, sending a strong whiff of wine in her direction.

'Antonius. What are you doing here?' Fabiola hissed. Her nerves were unravelling fast. Jovina was in the kitchen, but could venture up the corridor at any moment. If the old madam saw him, she would put two and two together in the blink of an eye. 'You're drunk,' she chided, taking his arm and trying to usher him towards the door.

Antonius wouldn't budge. 'Might have had a little wine,' he admitted with a grin. 'Nothing wrong with that.'

Fabiola hid her impatience. By now, she knew all about his excessive drinking. Antonius was a wild-living soldier who cared nothing for what others thought. He commonly attended political meetings while under the influence, and had even vomited in front of the entire Senate once. Now his bravado had brought him here, in broad daylight. 'Are you alone?' she demanded.

'Of course.' He sounded hurt. 'No lictores, no guards. I even left my chariot at home.' He tugged at his working man's tunic. 'Look. Just for you.'

Impressed, she touched his cheek. Antonius' British war chariot was his pride and joy. So was his fondness for wearing military dress. 'No one saw you coming in?'

'I hid my face all the way here,' he declared, lifting a fold of his cloak dramatically. 'Only the doorman knows.'

'Good,' replied Fabiola, but her worries remained. Even without his coterie of followers, Antonius was recognisable to all. Despite his protestations, he would have been noticed. On the other hand, it was excellent that Scaevola and his men would have seen him enter the Lupanar. They might think twice before attacking it again. But Antonius' visit was still a double-edged sword. Fabiola couldn't afford for him to stay longer than the time it would take to be entertained by a prostitute. He'd also have to leave discreetly, or Brutus would hear that the Master of the Horse, his enemy, was frequenting the Lupanar.

Antonius eyed her cleavage, and Fabiola felt a surge of desire. 'I have to have you,' he muttered. 'Now.'

Fabiola wanted him too. Badly. She glanced at Docilosa, who took the hint.

'I'll go and find Jovina,' she declared. 'There's something I need to ask her.'

Bless her, thought Fabiola, knowing that the madam would be kept out of the way. Despite what I do, Docilosa remains loyal. There'll be no problem when I tell her about Caesar. Romulus will return one day too. My actions won't interfere with that. She lost track of any further coherent thought as Antonius dragged her into a lingering kiss. At length, Fabiola managed to pull away from his roaming hands. 'Not here,' she scolded. 'We're practically in public view.'

'All the better,' Antonius growled. 'I'd fuck you in front of all Rome.'

Pouting, Fabiola led him to the first bedroom, which she knew was empty. Quickly they stripped off their clothes, squeezing and caressing each other's flesh in a tide of lust. Goose bumps rose on Fabiola's skin as Antonius kissed her neck and ran his fingertips slowly down her back and on to her buttocks. His hand paused for a moment before moving around to the front, and cupping Fabiola's moist sex. She moved her thighs apart to allow him to insert a finger. He moved it in and out, bending to suck on her nipples at the same time. It wasn't enough. Moaning, Fabiola pulled away and climbed on to the bed. On all fours, she looked back at him.

'Well?'

Growling, Antonius leapt up to join her. With a great shove, he thrust his erect member deep inside her. 'Gods above, you feel good,' he cried, moving his hips. Fabiola encouraged him, reaching back with one hand to pull him further in. Driven by their lust, they moved faster and faster, losing all awareness of anything else. All that mattered was their overwhelming pleasure. Fabiola surrendered herself to her feelings. Sex had never felt like this before. As a prostitute, she had enjoyed it on a rare handful of occasions with young, attentive clients. With Brutus, it was nice; familiar even. Not once though had it been the same as this earth-moving sensation, which threatened to overcome her. Unconsciously, Fabiola's right hand slipped between her legs, searching. Her fingers slipped on to the nub of flesh she used to tease herself and began to rub. She pushed back against Antonius even harder.

A moment later, there was a quiet knock on the door. Fabiola barely heard it.

Antonius certainly didn't. Holding on to Fabiola's waist, he was driving into her, oblivious.

The second rap was louder. A low voice joined it. 'Mistress?'

Fabiola stopped moving. 'Vettius?' she said, astonished at the doorman's gall.

'Yes, Mistress.'

Even from the other side of the door, Fabiola could sense his embarrassment. Her annoyance subsided. It had to be serious for the doorman to interrupt her at a time like this. 'Is something wrong?'

Vettius coughed awkwardly. 'Brutus is coming down the street. He's no more than a hundred paces away.'

'You're sure?' cried Fabiola, her lustful thoughts vanishing into the ether. Brutus almost never visited the brothel. What did he want?

'Yes, Mistress,' came the reply. 'I can delay him at the door, but not for long.'

'Do it,' she hissed, already turning to Antonius. 'Stop!'

He was too far gone. With his face flushed a deep red, he came inside her.

Fabiola pulled away and rounded on him. 'Didn't you hear? Brutus will be here in a few moments.'

Antonius' lip curled. 'What do I care? You're mine, not his. Let the dog in and I'll soon put him right.'

'No,' Fabiola cried, seeing all her plans turning to dust. 'He won't stand for it.'

Antonius laughed and pointed at his gladius. 'Will he not?'

Panic constricted Fabiola's throat. Even naked, Antonius' arrogance knew no bounds. Pulling on her dress, she racked her brains for a way to budge him. 'What would Caesar say to all this?' she finally demanded. 'This is hardly fitting behaviour for his deputy.'