Page 103 of Dishonored

What now?

FOURTEEN

“YOU’RE LOOKING PLEASED with yourself,” Aria mused as Caesar strolled into the library.

He gave the man who had been watching Aria a nod, and the guy quickly darted out of the room, but not before he slammed the door closed behind him. Likely happy to be the hell out of her presence after knowing what she had done to the two men who delivered her to the estate. Caesar locked the door, too.

Oh, good.

Privacy.

Caesar gave his attention back to her—and the glass of liquor Aria was holding. His gaze narrowed a bit at the sight. “And you’re looking quite comfortable.”

She smiled slyly, and tipped the glass back and forth. He could act pissed all he wanted; she didn’t care. She knew full well he enjoyed the little show she had put on when she first arrived. He probably had planned for that, really.

“What good will sitting here staring at old, dusty books do for me? There’s not even a romance in here, Caesar. I would much rather drink.”

Caesar didn’t even reply. Strolling across the room, he plucked the glass from her hand, and rested it down on the small wet bar with a little more force than was necessary. Aria had all she could do not to pick it back up—because what the fuck—but his hand circling tight around her wrist to keep her still stopped her from doing anything.

“How about no,” Caesar uttered darkly. “There’s already one woman in this house who is constantly drunk and haunts me regularly. Let’s not add a fucking second.”

Wait, what?

Aria gave him a second look.

His easy demeanor was gone.

“Are you—”

“What?”

His gaze burned when it landed back on her.

Aria stiffened. “What is your problem?”

She didn’t miss the way his jaw tensed, or how his gaze darted away from hers. Something had happened, and he wasn’t very pleased about it.

That wasn’t a good sign.

“Shouldn’t it be me pissed off?” she asked. “You did have random, strange men come into my hotel room, and throw a fucking hood over my head like I was a wild animal.”

Caesar’s lips twitched with a smirk.

She had the strangest urge to smack it away, or kiss it.

Wow.

“That’s because you are kind of like a wild animal,” he murmured.

“Watch it, tyrant.”

“I like it better when you say it in Italian, Aria.”

“Too bad.”

Caesar sighed, and his grip on her wrist loosened. “Thanks for playing along when you got here—you made for a good show. It was as amusing as I hoped it would be.”

Aria gave him a look. “Glad to be of service.”