She and Gallus head back swiftly through the Forum, leaving the two unhappy sisters to their recriminations. “I’ll take that,” Gallus says, gesturing for the amber necklace. He stuffs it into a bag as they walk.

“Don’t scratch the beads.”

“Least of our worries,” he replies. “What were you doing telling that poor bitch Felix would give her more time?”

“What difference will another month make if he gets the money?”

“This is Felix we’re talking about.”

The guilt Amara had been trying to ignore starts to surface, making her feel sick. “I’ll think of something,” she says. Gallus shakes his head. “What will you tell Beronice?”

“I won’t tell her anything!” Gallus snaps. “I’m not a fucking woman. I never talk about Felix’s business. And neither should you, not if you want to live out the year.”

They almost miss the turning off the Via Veneria with their bickering. Amara waits to let Gallus go first, and they walk in single file onto the narrower pavement. To her surprise, as they round the corner, she sees Felix standing in the street outside the brothel.

“Get a move on,” he calls, as they hurry to meet him. “Fabia’s gone to round up the others. You’ve all got another chance with Vibo.” He peers at Amara, frowning. “Do something with your hair; you look like a slut.” He turns his back on her, taking the tablets from Gallus. “All signed?” Gallus nods. Amara waits for Felix to acknowledge her part in the transaction or ask what happened, but when he sees she is still standing in the street, he loses his temper. “What are you staring at?” He grabs her by the hair, pulling her toward him before shoving her back toward the brothel. “I told you to fucking move!”

The splash of the warm water as she slides into the pool brings back memories of their last ill-fated visit. On the domed ceiling above her, light ripples over an elaborate mosaic. It’s Europa, her naked body wreathed in flowers, being carried across the sea by the god Jupiter in his form as a bull. Amara had forgotten how opulent this place is. Beronice drops down heavily beside her. The light on the ceiling dances, reflecting back the waves she’s made. All Felix’s women are more flustered than usual. Victoria wouldn’t let them leave until everyone’s hair had been styled, so instead of having messy curls, they are flushed and sweaty from rushing to make it in time.

“Already had a busy morning, ladies,” Drauca calls. She is draped languidly against the side, both arms resting on the ledge of the large open window at her back. Simo’s other two women, Maria and Attice, are floating either side of her like a pair of bodyguards. A third woman, whose name Amara doesn’t know, lurks sullenly in the corner.

“We’re always in demand,” Victoria replies.