When In Rome

One moment I'm standing amidst the crumbling ruins of a Late Republican villa, running my fingers over a mysterious medallion. The next, I'm in ancient Rome, staring into the eyes of a man I never thought I'd see in the flesh. Roman Senator Marcus Valerius - the subject of the fresco that's had me swooning since I was ten.

And holy gods, his fresco did not do him justice. The man standing before me is a chiseled, breathing embodiment of pure, unadulterated masculinity. His intense gaze is locked on me, and I swear, my knees are actually weak. I always thought that was just a cheesy romance trope - but no, here I am, wobbling like a baby giraffe.

But here's the thing: those dusty history books I've spent my life poring over? Yeah, they left out a few crucial details. Like how Marcus has brothers. Three of them. And they're all... wait for it... devastatingly gorgeous in their own ways.

There's Lucius, with his warrior's build and a smirk that promises he's conquered far more intimate territories than any battlefield. Flavius, the diplomat, with a silver tongue that I'm quite sure has talents beyond negotiating treaties. And Rufus, the enigmatic freedman whose clever hands and perceptive eyes seem to see right through me, unraveling my secrets before I even know what's happening.

I'm clearly in a world of trouble. But with Marcus's commanding presence making my heart race, Lucius's heated glances sending shivers down my spine, Flavius's sinful promises whispering in my ear, and Rufus's quiet charm drawing me in - I'm not so sure I even want to find my way back out.