Free Desire of the Gladiator (Affairs of the Arena Book 3) by Lydia Pax

gladiator might be brutal in his methods of hazing, torturing novices until they proved themselves worthy in the arena, but it was all for what he perceived as a common good—to weed out weakness and ensure that only strength arrived on the sands.
    But Conall was a gladiator proven more than a dozen times over. It broke the bounds of what decency gladiators had to pick a fight with a veteran—and this made Conall mad.
    They were all trying to live together; there was no benefit in acting as if they lived apart.
    “Gladiators!”
    Murus’s voice boomed across the sand. Instinctively, Conall stepped back—a trained motion from years of obeying Murus’s voice. And as he did, Diocles popped his head forward and banged their temples together. Conall, furious now, shoved Diocles back into his crowd of followers. Diocles took a swing, but Murus was there to catch his fist.
    Diocles looked a bit surprised at Murus’s ability to simply catch his hand mid-swing. Conall knew the old doctore was quicker and stronger than he looked. An older man with silver hair and hard leather skin, nearing fifty years of age, his shape was a square of muscle.
    “Take the Hell Log,” said Murus. His voice like crackling thunder. “The both of you. You’ll stop running when I get tired.”
    Diocles looked despondent. Hiding a grin, Conall picked up the log again and held it out for Diocles to grab it with him.
    Conall’s goal was to be able to run all day to get back in good fighting shape. This was as good a way as any.
    “Just don’t slow me down,” said Conall.

Chapter 19
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    A t midday, after lunch, Conall was informed that he was to eschew the rest of the day's training in order to go to the market as part of his new bodyguard work. It wasn't until he arrived at the gates and saw Leda's lovely form clothed in a dark blue stola that he realized that she was the slave he was supposed to bodyguard.
    “Is it just the two of us?” he asked her.
    She frowned, looking past him for a moment. “I suppose so. Usually they send a soldier with me.”
    Conall shrugged. “I suppose I am cheaper than a soldier.”
    Leda raised an eyebrow, as if to say she would let that pass without comment.
    The two of them had not spoken since their last discussion. Their fight? Could it be called that?
    Conall was inclined to agree with her, and so it was difficult to call it a fight. He wasn't of her class. The difference was that he didn't want that to matter like she apparently did.
    Some flashes of anger still existed in him at the conflict. Most of these were at himself and his idiot mouth, unable to hold his tongue in place. But any annoyances were overtaken by being in her presence once again.
    Her hair swayed gently in the wind. The stola she wore hugged tight to her hips. Her cheeks were colored from the heat of the day.
    Gods, she's lovely.
    “Shall we go?” he asked.
    “Very well,” she said, her voice cool. “But I should inform you that my position remains the same. Nothing that happens today will change that.”
    A sharp stab slipped up his guts. He nodded. “Of course, Princess.”
    “I don't want to be hurtful. Only clear.”
    Again, he nodded, and she started out the gate.
    If that was how she didn't want to be hurtful, Conall mused, he'd hate to have been on the wrong side of her when she did.

Chapter 20
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    “I don’t trust the House Varinius. I want you to tell him that.”
    “Certainly.”
    “You’ll have the wine. But he still owes me for the rest. That’s the deal, right?”
    “Yes, Olonius.” Leda tapped the scroll. “It’s all right here. An official document. I’ll send it to the imperial legal offices in town and have them record it. The debts will be official.”
    This had been a sticking point for many of Porcia’s debts. With her charm and beauty—which apparently she had much of, as that was all the men (and they were always men) that she borrowed from remembered