Amara stares ahead as they walk. “I just don’t like being near him, that’s all. It brings back too many old memories.”

“I don’t believe you. Something happened.”

“He wants to marry me.” Saying the words out loud sounds so preposterous, it almost makes her want to laugh. “He didn’t ask. He told me that’s what will happen when Rufus leaves.” Amara doesn’t need to see Philos’s face to read his shock from the silence that follows.

“You need to pay him back. Immediately. Ask Drusilla, ask Julia. Even Rufus. Be in debt to anyone rather than him. We cannot live with that sort of threat.”

Amara does not like Philos’s peremptory tone. “You think I can just ask for that much money?” She darts an angry look at him from the corner of her eye. “Drusilla has a child to support, and my whole business with Julia depends on her thinking I have spare cash to lend! And you know how furious Rufus would be if I asked him.” Philos mutters something explosive-sounding in his own language. “Anyway, it’s just Felix making threats. It means nothing.”

“Nothing!” Philos swears in dialect again, kicking his feet against the pavement. “What did you do to make him suggest it in the first place?”

“Are you blaming me for this?” Amara’s voice rises with anger and a passerby stares. She looks back at the ground, quickening her pace. Never has the pressure of having a secret lover felt worse than now, when she wants to shout at him in the street.

“I heard you once,” Philos says, his voice low. “You yelled at him, It’s not about love. What did that mean?” Amara feels the shame wash over her, and she puts a hand over her mouth. “I’m not angry,” Philos speaks even more quietly. “Please, just tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Amara says. “I don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Do you love him?”

“No!” Philos shoots her a warning look for her raised voice. “Of course I fucking don’t. Fabia told me he liked me, and I was stupid enough to think I could manipulate him. And now I’ve paid for it.”

“Please borrow the money to pay him,” Philos says, and she can hear the desperation in his voice. “Please ask Drusilla. I’m frightened he’s going to hurt you.”

Amara understands what Philos means by hurt. “I would call for you before he did anything like that,” she lies. “I promise you. And this is Felix we’re talking about. He won’t have meant what he said. He just loves to play games. I can handle him. Trust me, I’ve had plenty of practice.”