Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Serena
T he Brutus Denarius.
I pulled my eyes from Anton’s, my gaze fixating on the flickering votive candle at the center of the table. The setting around me blurred as my mind raced, thinking about the gift from my father—a secret that belonged in a museum. The coins weight, both physical and emotional, seemed to press upon me even from a distance.
“Why so quiet, princess?” Anton’s smooth voice cut through my reverie.
I lifted my gaze to meet his piercing onyx eyes, forcing a polite smile. “I’m just wondering what would make you think I have a coin of such value.”
“So, you’ve heard of it then?”
“Of course. It’s the Ides of March coin, struck by Marcus Junius Brutus to celebrate the assassination of Julius Caesar.”
“Correct. It features a bust of Brutus, one of the assassins. It’s one of the rarest ancient Roman coins, minted in both silver and gold. Fewer than one hundred silver coins are known to exist, but only two gold are known to have survived. They are currently located in a museum in France. But rumor has it that you may have a third.”
My eyes widened in surprise before I quickly recovered. While things like ancient coins were commonly discussed within my circle of peers, normal people typically didn’t have such detailed knowledge about ancient artifacts. But then again, Anton was anything but normal.
How could he know I have that coin in particular?
He was correct about the rumor. But he was wrong in thinking there was only one more. There were actually three more coins that nobody knew about—and I had all three of them hidden inside a small safe in my flat in Rome.
I knew their importance, yet I’d never told a soul about them. Mark Antony had melted down almost all the coins for reuse, but my father had discovered three of them on a dig in Athens. He’d gifted them to me the day I received my acceptance letter from the Sapienza University of Rome, setting me on the path to where I am today.
I recalled my father’s words on that day. With him, everything had been a lesson, including his gift.
“For your graduation, I’m giving you three coins. The number three has always been important in ancient cultures, symbolizing ideas like balance, completeness, and the divine—like the Holy Trinity in Christianity or the three sides of the Egyptian sun god. In Pythagorean philosophy, three was seen as the perfect number, standing for wisdom and understanding—both of which you’ll need to uncover the truth. These coins are also tied to the story of Brutus spreading lies about Mark Antony after Caesar’s death. Like Antony and Cleopatra, you’ll have to navigate through the lies to find the truth.”
My father often spoke in riddles, and that day had been no different. The coins were the last thing he’d ever given me. Shortly after that, he became sick. There was no way I would give them up—to a museum or to Anton. They held too much sentimental value.
I shifted my attention back to Anton and contemplated my answer. His gaze narrowed and my pulse quickened as I took in his imposing figure. He was studying me through fierce eyes, almost as if I were an unsuspecting lamb—the prey hunted by the wolf.
“The idea that I might have the Brutus Denarius is ridiculous,” I said, hoping I sounded convincing.
I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment cross his face, but his expression was so impassive, I couldn’t be sure. Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms and considered me carefully.
“I don’t believe you.”
I raised a brow. “And why is that?”
“The lighting might be dim, but I can spot a terrible poker face. I’m good at reading people, particularly their tells.”
“I don’t have a tell.”
“Oh, but you do, princess. You bite down on your lower lip when you’re nervous, and you’re doing that right now.”
I sucked in a breath, releasing the lip that had been trapped between my teeth. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. Angling my chin, I stared defiantly at him.
“So what if I was biting my lip? That doesn’t mean I have the coin. Besides, whether I have it or not is irrelevant. It would never be for sale. A coin of that value belongs in a museum.”
“Why a museum? So random people can look upon it, never fully understanding its importance?”
He wasn’t wrong.
I pressed my lips together in a tight line. “Why is the coin of interest to you anyways? ”
“Like my cufflinks, I collect things of historical significance—particularly ancient coins. Not ordinary coins, but ones that hold importance. Mundane, boring, and common things are of no interest to me. I covet the rarest in the world, and I already have six of the top ten in my private collection. Unfortunately, a few are out of reach, having been placed in museums or possibly lost forever. I had believed the Brutus Denarius to be amongst the unobtainable until I read an article about a different Dr. Martinelli.”
“My late father,” I stated, giving clarity to the identity confusion that often occurred in my professional circles. “Dr. Carlo Martinelli.”
“As I eventually figured out, but not before I went looking for him at The Met Gala. You can imagine my surprise when I found you instead. I can’t say I was disappointed,” he added suggestively, his eyes darkening. I tried to ignore the little flip in my stomach. “It’s said that your father found a collection of Roman coins while in Greece. A gold Brutus Denarius was supposedly among them.”
My brow furrowed, trying to remember the details of the article he was referring to so I didn’t mix it up with the truth.
“If I recall, that article was full of inaccuracies. It was mostly rumors made up by jealous peers who were intent on sabotaging my father’s theories. There weren’t any Brutus Denarius coins in the jug.” Even to my own ears, the venom in my voice was obvious as I continued the lie—anger sparked by loyalty to my father. I made a conscious effort to even my tone. “The article was pure speculation. If such a coin had been found, it would have been extraordinary.”
“You seem very… passionate about your position.”
The way he seemed to draw out the word “passionate” caused an involuntary shiver to course through me. I took a sip of wine to steady myself.
“For years, my father was dismissed by his peers. Your mention of the article reminded me how upsetting it was for my mother and me.”
“And here I thought your vehemence was a way to punctuate your denial about the coin. But I am curious to hear more about your father’s theories that stirred such controversy.” He paused, seeming to search for the right words. “Whether I give you the money you need in exchange for a coin or in exchange for, shall we say?—”
“A pound of flesh?” I offered.
A wicked smile played on his lips. “A dramatic take, but it fits.”
My stomach did another little flip, and I tore my gaze from his. Needing something to do, I reached for my wineglass again. Rather than take a sip, I toyed with the stem for a moment before speaking. “My father had a lot of theories. What is it that you want to know?”
“For starters, why was he not taken seriously by his peers?”
I pressed my lips together into a tight line as more memories rushed to the surface.
“My father didn’t agree with many scholars. Most archeologists believe that Cleopatra and Mark Antony are buried in a lost city in Egypt, but my father’s maps told a different story. Decades of research led him to Rome. He had had everything mapped out—from the Arch of Constantine to the three tall columns of the Temple of Castor and Pollux, everything led him to an unexcavated location not far from where Julius Caesar’s ashes are believed to be.”
I recalled my father’s words when I was barely sixteen years old. He had chartered a helicopter to get a bird’s-eye view of the landscape of the Forum and had taken me along with him.
“Do you see the area where the vegetation is thinner, Serena? The plants grow thick above buried wooden structures and more thinly above the stone ones. There’s something there—I can feel it in my bones. I don’t care what they say. My maps are correct. If someone as famous as Julius Caesar could be cremated and buried here, is it so outlandish to think the infamous Cleopatra and her lover would not be nearby as well?”
It had been fourteen years since we’d taken that flight, but I could still hear the words as if he’d said them only yesterday.
“I spent many years alongside my father studying that location,” I continued. “He believed Cleopatra and Mark Antony were there with every fiber of his being.”
“And do you think they are?”
I frowned and then sighed. “I don’t know. We’ve narrowed down the terrain and have made a lot of progress. There’s not much left to search. My team and I just need more time. But time is money.”
“Money you don’t have.” Anton’s eyes never left mine as he continued, his voice dropping to a low, seductive timbre. “Alright. We’ll forget the Brutus Denarius. If you say you don’t have the coin, so be it. We’ll just go back to the original plan.”
Just as I was about to open my mouth to respond, the conversation was interrupted once again by Matteo’s arrival. He was carrying a tray thick with the rich aroma of garlic and parmesan. The combined scents wafted through the air. I inhaled deeply, allowing their familiarity to calm my racing heart.
“ Signore, signora! I present to you tonight’s specialties,” he announced with a flourish, setting down plates of steaming risotto and perfectly grilled sea bass. “ Risotto alla Milanese and branzino alla griglia. Buon appetito! ”
After Matteo retreated, Anton raised his wine glass.
“To new partnerships,” he toasted.
“But I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“You will,” he said confidently, his dark eyes searing into me.
My core tightened until an ache began to form low in my belly. The conversation had changed. It had gone from academic to sexual in the blink of an eye. There was a challenge in his expression, as if he dared me to deny his proposition.
“Your arrogance never ceases to amaze me. But I’ll admit, your proposal is intriguing,” I acknowledged, choosing my words carefully. “I’m just not sure I’m comfortable with what it may entail.”
Anton’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Comfort zones are meant to be pushed, princess. Perhaps my toast should have been made to testing boundaries.”
I hesitated before raising my own glass, suddenly uneasy about the boundaries he wanted to test.
“To… mutual understanding,” I finally said.
We began to eat, the silence disrupted only by the soft clink of cutlery against the plates. I savored the rich flavors, trying to focus on the meal rather than the conversation Anton was sure to continue. However, the effort was in vain. I couldn’t stop my mind from racing.
If I agreed to Anton’s proposal, it could save the excavation, allowing me to continue the pursuit of my father’s dream.
But at what cost? My integrity? My very sense of self?
Or maybe I should just give up one of the Brutus Denarius coins.
As soon as the thought popped into my mind, I dismissed it. I was a sucker for things with sentimental value, and the ancient coin held too much to give up.
“I can practically see the wheels in your head turning,” Anton said after a few bites, his tone deceptively casual.
I stabbed at the risotto, buying time.
“I think I understand your offer,” I said finally, meeting his gaze. “But I need more details so that I can consider all the ramifications.”
Anton’s eyes gleamed with a predatory intensity as he leaned closer.
“Let me be explicit, Serena. I will fully fund your excavation in Rome for the next year. In exchange, I want thirty days of unrestricted access to your body. When I want you to kneel, you’ll kneel. When I want you spread out before me, you’ll obey without question. And when I’m not inside you, I want access to your mind—days full of intelligent conversation. I want to learn how you think. You won’t deny me any part of yourself. Is that detailed enough for you?”
My breath caught as my fork clattered against the plate. I blinked—once, twice—my mind reeling from a tumultuous mix of shock, outrage, and unabashed desire.
“I...that’s...” I stammered, struggling to form a coherent thought.
Internal conflict raged within me, taking the form of past memories and dreams for the future. I saw the potential to uncover the secrets that had eluded my father—to bring an end to the hunt so that I could finally focus on finding out who I really was. I’d made a promise to him—one that I fully intended to see through. But chasing ghosts wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life forever.
I thought about my small glass blowing shop in Lucca. It reminded me of the flames I’d created, and of the marble woman who stood with them.
Anton’s words echoed in my mind.
“Remember the woman in the flames, princess. You deserve to be her.”
I met his gaze again and considered his proposal. His desire for unrestricted access to all parts of me—both physically and intellectually—oddly thrilled me. He’d only hinted at the possibilities that lay ahead, and I wanted to know more.
But there were rules.
I may have defied my Catholic upbringing by having sex before marriage, but I had standards—and a hot, toe-curling love affair with a sexy billionaire I barely knew didn’t fit into my neatly defined box. Add in that I’d be doing it in exchange for money, and well…
Just thinking about it required a visit to the confessional.
Who am I kidding? At this rate, I’ll burst into flames just entering the church.
Tearing my eyes from his, I looked down at my half-eaten plate of food.
“This was a bad idea. I should go,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Anton reached across the table, his fingers brushing against mine. The slight touch sent shock waves through my system, and I stood abruptly. My eyes darted toward the exit.
“Serena,” Anton’s deep voice resonated through the room as he rose from his seat. His movements were fluid, almost predatory, as he came around the table to me. Before I could retreat further, his hand encircled my wrist. His touch was gentle yet unyielding, halting any escape I may have contemplated.
“Thank you for dinner, Anton. Everything was lovely, but I?—”
“You think you want to run, but deep down, I know you don’t.”
“Anton, two people as different as us are not compatible.”
He grinned, a gleam in his eye suddenly turning wicked. “Have you already forgotten last night?”
Heat flooded my cheeks, and I looked away. “Of course not.”
Taking hold of my chin with his thumb and forefinger, he tilted my head back. The silence sizzled with tension. Anton’s eyes flickered to my lips, and before I could process what was happening, he leaned in, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss.
The world tilted on its axis. The kiss was passionate and intense, reviving the sensations he’d made me feel last night. In the dark. Pushed up against the stone wall. My analytical mind short-circuited, forgetting all the what-ifs as Anton’s lips moved against mine .
His hand slid to my lower back, pulling me closer. Involuntarily, my fingers curled into the lapels of his expertly tailored suit. The scent of his cologne, a heady mix of sandalwood and citrus, enveloped my senses as our tongues danced.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathless. It was a real struggle to regain my composure.
“Anton, I?—”
“Come back to the penthouse,” he murmured, his thumb tracing my jawline. “Let me show you how good it can be—how good we can be.”
My heart raced, his words sliding over me like warm whiskey as I lost myself in his endless onyx eyes. Whenever he regarded me like that, I found myself speechless. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. It was ridiculous, really. Every time I looked at him, my heart would begin pitter-pattering like a schoolgirl with a crush on the star football player. That steady beat had now quickly evolved into a strong thumping in my chest. His mere presence was unsettling. He made me feel unbalanced, and I found it difficult to stay composed when he looked at me that way.
A slow leisurely smile began to form on his face. I was mesmerized, and he knew it.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I protested weakly, even as my body yearned to lean into his touch.
“You can, princess.”
I took a deep breath, feeling as though I stood on the precipice of a life-altering decision. Somehow, I knew if I agreed to go back to his place, my life would never be the same.
“You’re serious about all of this? Not just tonight, but about the funding and spending a month with me.”
“I assure you. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”
I studied his gaze, trying to see past the predatory heat swirling in those onyx eyes, looking for answers before I took a giant leap of faith. I was about to strike a deal with the devil and desire was the currency.
It wasn’t just about the money or all the strings attached to it. I wanted him. Desperately. I didn’t know what the future held, nor did I want to worry about it. I only cared about this moment. If nothing happened beyond tonight, so be it. This was about me and allowing myself to feel—to being selfish and taking without regret for once in my life.
Bless me Father, for I am about to sin…
“Okay, Anton. I’ll be with you tonight.”