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his neck, breasts mashed to his flexing chest as her legs gripped around his waist. They would hold each other so tightly, they would barely be able to move, but—

“Do you know why Vallia needs a queen, Amy?”

“No,” she squeaked, yanking her mind from fornication.

“Because the king of Vallia is this.” He nodded toward the statuary. “A sex addict who never sought help. In fact, he used his position to take advantage of those over whom he had power.”

The butterflies in her stomach turned to slithering snakes that crept up to constrict her lungs and tighten her throat.

Amy knew all about men who took advantage of their position of power. It was adding a razor edge of caution to every step as they walked among these erotic statues.

Luca was a client, which made her feel as though she had to defer to him, but he wasn’t forcing her into an awkward situation for his own amusement. She might be blushing so hard the soles of her feet hurt, but he was radiating furious disgust. He was trying to explain why he was so committed to her doing this odd job for him.

Not that kind of job, Amy! She dragged her gaze off the woman whose hands were braced on a naked gladiator’s sandals as he sat proudly feeding his erection to her.

“You’re not like him,” she managed to say. “Your father, I mean.”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed, jaw clenched. “But I have to make at least a few people believe I could be. Briefly.” He glanced from the narrow shadow of the trident on a stepping-stone to his watch.

She followed his gaze and said with delight, “It’s a sundial! Half-past oral sex and a quarter till—” She slapped her hand over her mouth, cheeks flaring so hotly, she thought she’d burn her palm. “I’m sorry.” She was. “I use humor to defuse tension, but I shouldn’t have said that. This is a professional relationship. I’ll do better, I promise.”

She was still stinging with a flush of embarrassment that boiled up from too many sources to count—the situation, the blatant thing she’d just said, the lack of propriety on her part and, deep down, a pang of anguish that she was giving him such a terrible impression of herself when she wished he would like her a little.

His mouth twisted. “You’ll have to say a lot worse than that to shock me. The Romans themselves couldn’t hold a candle to some of the obscene things my father did.”

He veered down a path to a small lookout that was mostly overgrown. A wooden bench faced a low, stone wall, but they had to stand at the wall to see the blue-green water beyond.

Compassion squeezed Amy’s insides as she sensed the frustration rolling off him.

“I’ve worked with a lot of people trying to keep scandals under wraps. It’s very stressful. I can only imagine the pressure you’ve been under since you took the throne.”

Luca made a noise that was the most blatantly cynical sound Amy had ever heard.

“For my whole life,” he corrected her grimly. “As long as I can remember I’ve been trying to hide it, fix it, compensate for it. I’ve had to be completely different from him despite looking exactly like him while training for his job. A position he made seem so vile, there is absolutely no desire in me to hold it.”

At his own words, he swore under his breath and ran a hand down his face.

“That sounds treasonous. Forget I said it,” he muttered.

“This is a safe space. It has to be.” Amy had long ago trained herself not to judge what people revealed when they were in crisis. “Are you still under pressure to hide his behavior? If there are things you’re worried could come out, I might be able to help manage that, too.” She looked to where the array of erotic statues was shielded by shrubbery. “I could put out confidential feelers for a private collector to buy those, for a start.”

“That’s well-known.” He dismissed the statues with a flick of his hand. “There’s no point trying to hide them now.”

His jaw worked as though he was debating something. When he looked at her, a cold hand seemed to leap out of his bleak gaze and close over her heart.

“The way he died may yet come out,” he admitted in a voice that held a scraped hollow ring, one that held so much pain, she suspected he was completely divorcing himself from reality to cope with it.

“Do you want to tell me about it? You don’t have to,” she assured him while her heart stuttered in an uneven rhythm. “But you can if you want to.”

His father’s death had been reported as a cardiac arrest, but there’d been countless rumors about the circumstances.

“My sister doesn’t even know the full truth.”

It was all on him and the secret weighed heavily. Amy could tell.

She wanted to touch him, comfort him in some way. She also sensed he needed to be self-contained right now. It was the only way he was holding on to his control.

“If you’re worried there are people who might reveal something, we could approach them with a settlement and a binding nondisclosure,” she suggested gently.

“That’s already been done. And the handful of people who knew where he was that night were happy to take a stack of cash and get away without a charge of contributing to manslaughter, but they’re not the most reliable sort.” He searched her gaze with his intense one. “Frankly, I wish he’d hired prostitutes. They would have acted like professionals. This was a party gone wrong. There were drugs at the scene. Nasty ones.”

“Here? In the palace?” That was bad, but she’d cleaned up similar messes.

“In the dungeon.”

She didn’t school her expression fast enough.

“Yes. That kind of dungeon.” His lips were snarled tight against his teeth. His nostrils flared. “I wouldn’t normally judge how people spend their spare time, but if you rule a country, perhaps don’t allow

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