It was late afternoon and I had sent Frida out with Lily to the park. I was worried. I was more than worried. I was distraught. I hadn't seen Max for three days now, had no idea where he was; he had not answered any of my calls- his phone was switched off. Never in all the time we had been together had he ever pulled a stunt like this. But I knew what it was about. Or at least I thought I did.

But was that enough for him to disappear? At the back of my mind was already the gnawing suspicion that he knew something else, something much more incriminating than the idle chatter of a little child. Oh God, if he ever found out about Terry and me- what would he do? Ann had been a witness to our adultery - of that there was no doubt. She hated me. Enough to tell Maximus? I didn't know. But as the hours passed I became more and more afraid.

How can I explain Maximus to a modern world? There is no finer or better man in any world than he but he is made of different stuff than men of the modern era. He would not accept my infidelity. He would never forgive me. There is a chance he might be violent. I don't think he would hurt me but Terry would be at risk and he would be cruel and ruthless in his revenge- of that I have no doubt.

I sat by the window and looked out on the garden, absentmindedly twisting my wedding ring around my finger and willing time to reverse, willing myself back in that hotel room and stopping it all before it had got out of hand. Yet I knew that it was impossible to change our destiny even in this strange existence of ours. My fate now depended on the goodwill of a woman who had no reason to feel anything other than righteous hatred for me.

I didn't hear him enter. Maximus is very quiet when he wishes to be, still and silent, impassive and calm- it is always when he is at his most formidable. I felt his presence and turned with a start. He was standing there staring at me and I knew he knew. I rose from the chair and walked over to him, my right hand slightly extended.

"Maximus...?" I whispered and then I saw his face. It was marked. His lip was swollen and there was a bruise on his forehead; his neck was riddled with what could only be called bites. Love bites. Hickeys. The most unlikely scar that he would ever carry.

"What have you done to your face?" I gasped. He raised his chin defiantly but I saw his eyes. There was anger but there was sadness there too. And then I saw his body. It was tensed and ready, like a cat about to spring and for the first time since the day I had met him, I felt fear. Whatever his eyes betrayed, his brain was sending out a different message. I took a step back instinctively.

"What is it, Max?" He did not reply but moved slowly towards me. I looked about me- could I make the door? It was unlikely - he was faster than I was and his reflexes were razor sharp. I tried again.

"Where have you been, Max, I have been so worried about you..." There was no expression on his face; just a mask of marble. He looked so handsome, despite his marks, so wounded and so tragic. I felt my guilt bite deeper into my craw.

"Lily's been really upset...she keeps asking for you..." The mention of his daughter brought the first sign of emotion. A tic in his upper cheek twitched and he blinked rapidly several times. I watched him struggle for control.

"I sent her to the park with Frida...they'll be back soon..." 

He stopped and looked at me. "I want you to answer a question." He paused and waited for my response. I nodded, dread flooding me, my knees shaking. "Did you fuck Terry Thorne?"

I heard my own gasp, it was raw and sobbing. "Oh, Maximus...it was a mistake..."

He laughed. It was a harsh and bitter sound. He nodded his head ruefully. "Oh yes...it was a mistake...do you know where I have been?"

I shook my head.

"Do you want to know?"

I shook my head again, biting my lip to stifle the sobs that threatened to well up from me at his cold, hard demeanour

"I have been with his wife. We have consoled each other. It was not pretty." The room was silent as I took in his words. A clock ticked. A car horn in the street sounded. A lawnmower droned from a neighbour' garden. My world split asunder.

"Ann?" 

In answer, Max ripped open his shirt to reveal his naked chest. He was covered in bites and bruises, scratches and red wheals. I could hardly believe what I saw. What had she done to him? What had he done to her?

"My God...did you hurt her?"

"No more than you hurt me, or he hurt her. What is pain? It is the opposite of pleasure. Or is it the same thing? I no longer know."

His hand shot out and grasped my wrist; he dragged me to his face. "Do you know what I could do to you?" I shivered but did not avoid his eyes.

"You would not harm me. You love me too much." At my words I saw the wavering in his eyes, the trembling of his lips and I knew how true my words were. He loved me so much that he had tried to blot out his feelings in some brutal coupling with Ann which aimed to hurt Terry as much as he had been hurt. Yet it had failed to do even that for him.

"I want you to feel as I do," he grunted out through gritted teeth.

With that, he forced me to my knees as he grabbed my hair in his left hand, twisting until I cried out. With his right hand, he unzipped and pulled out his cock forcing it against my lips. I could smell sex- he was unwashed and unforgiving. "Can you smell her on me...I fucked her all night...every way...she gave me what I wanted, she whored for me...like you did for him." I tried to shake him from me but I knew he could do whatever he liked to me. I simply knelt there and cried silent tears, praying that his terrible rage would dissipate and that he would remember who I was and what we meant to each other. But I also feared that the more he did, the more he would hate me for what I had done.

"Please Maximus..." I sobbed as he rubbed himself to hardness against my face, in my tears. I prepared myself for what he was about to do. I expected him to rape me, hit me, remembered all the accounts of what a Roman husband would do to a wife who betrayed him. I closed my eyes and made myself recall how much I loved him and tried not to blame him for being what he was.

But suddenly he pulled away, threw me down to the floor and lay upon me, trying to kiss me and pulling at my clothes. I opened my eyes and saw that he was crying silent tears, too, as he struggled between loving and abusing me; he did not know what he was doing. My heart went out to him in his misery and I held him against my breast- he sobbed as he laid me bare and roughly raked his hands over my body and his lips and teeth over my skin. His breathing was heavy and laboured and he muttered in a mixture of Latin and English as he made his assault on me.

"Did he touch you here? Did he suckle your breasts...did you let him push his fingers in you...was he better than me?" I wept at his words but he did not stop, mimicking his words with his actions, his fingers far from gentle as he thrust into me and manipulated me crudely.

"I fucked her...I licked her cunt, drank from her until she cried out, fucked her till she was swollen..." he panted, wild and unleashed, like a force of nature, frightening and uncontrollable, impossible to restrain or predict.

I did not utter a word, aware that any protestation would merely fire on his anger - just prayed that some spirit might hear and pity me and reach his tormented mind.

"Tell me...does he feel better than me? Is he a more skilful lover? Is his cock bigger? Is that why you do this to me? How have I failed you?"

Oh, Maximus- how could you imagine that was anything to do with it? But how could I begin to explain it? I didn't even know myself what it had been about. What was Terry to me? Did I love him? I'm not sure. I feel more than lust for him, although there was plenty of that in the mix. I had spoken words of love to him, sweet words, tendernesses, the words of a mistress to her lover. I could not pretend that this had merely been the result of my libido. Why had I needed that? Why had Maximus not been enough? What man in the world could ever hope to equal him?

"Maximus...I love you...I love you..." he heard my words and let out a kind of roar of pain. With a sudden impetus, he threw me from him; my head spun back with the force and banged against the floor, my eyes swimming with concussion, my ears ringing with the blow to the back of my head. It must have brought him to his senses for no sooner had it happened than he relaxed and his hold became gentle; I heard his voice, husky and wracked with pain as he whispered, "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I did not mean to hurt you..."He held me to him now soft as if I were a tiny child.

I whispered the same to him. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I did not mean to hurt you..." His mouth found mine and we kissed frantically, a crude and noisy feasting on each other. A trickle of blood ran down from the corner of his swollen lip and I licked the salty liquid; it aroused my passion as much as his rough handling of my body did.

We tore at our remaining clothes, both of us moaning and panting, crying and muttering. I felt him raise his hips as he pulled my legs apart; he hitched and thrust against me, missed, pulled and used his hand to push himself inside. He was fast and  I screamed out as his thick shaft bruised me- but still I wrapped my legs around him and hung on, wanting this, despite my fear and the throbbing pain in my head, despite the searing pounding on the tender flesh of my vagina and the pressure of his heavy body almost knocking the life out of me.

We rolled over and over on the floor like two animals, growling and desperate, hitting furniture and knocking over lamps and ornaments. Maximus threw me back and raised my legs over his hips- he wanted to go deep and hard, fast and furious; I met his force with my own rocking and tightening. With a curse in his own tongue, a foul and profane stream of words such as he had never said to me before, he came shuddering into me, his whole body shaking and trembling in my hands. I loved him then in that moment as much as I had ever done. I knew in that very instance - all was suddenly so clear to me.

I had never stopped loving him - and my behaviour had been unforgivable. But even now, after all I done to him, he still loved me, too; he hadn't been able to hurt me after all. In the end he had made love to me- wild and untamed, no doubt, but love all the same. My head might have hurt but my heart sang with relief. I would do anything to win his trust back. Never again would I oppose him in anything. I would give him a child...as many as he wished for, I would never pursue my career if he was unwilling, I would crawl on my knees until he forgave me. I loved him more than anything in life, except my daughter. We would make it, somehow.

In the silence that followed him rolling off me, broken only by the deep panting breaths that he took, as if still fighting for control, I lay mesmerised by the power of orgasm and love, my body sore and leaking, the stench of sex and sweat in my nostrils. I was so deep within my high that I failed to notice that he had stood and picked up his clothes.

My muddled brain began to take in what he was doing and watched as he threw on his shirt and thrust his legs into his jeans, zipping up and bending to put on his socks and shoes. His back was to me as I lay naked and splayed on the carpet behind him, beginning to shiver as my body temperature cooled down.

"Maximus...?" I began. He spun round - and I knew it even before he spoke. His face said it all. It was riven with pain, but fixed with determination as only he can look. His mind was made up and his formidable will would never allow him to falter.

"Maximus...where are you going?" He put on his leather jacket and walked to the door.

"Maximus...no!!" I screamed and ran after him grabbing at his clothes as he made his way across the hall to the door. "You cannot leave us...please stay...I love you...I beg you..." he pushed me away; I fell to my knees still clinging to his legs. I was beyond humiliation. Naked and in despair I fought for my marriage. "Think of Lily! I will give you children. Sons... I will do whatever you say...you cannot leave us...do not leave me...think of Lily...she is your daughter..."

He pried my fingers from his thighs and rested me back on the floor. I think I knew what he was going to say before he said it, but the words still shattered the last shreds of my heart. "I am not leaving my daughter. She is in a safe place. You will do nothing to try and claim her back. I cannot look you in the eye again after what you have done to us. It is over. Do not come after us. I will not allow you in our life again."

There was no possible argument. I lay prostrate on the floor as the door banged shut and his heavy tread grew fainter down the path. The car engine revved up and he backed out of the driveway. I listened to the familiar engine as it faded away. I would never hear that sound again. I did not cry. I could not cry. I did not move. I could not move. My life was over. I had simply thrown it all away.