Page 111 of Dishonored

“I’m sorry.”

For bring up pain.

For hurting him.

For a lot of things.

She didn’t think he was going to respond, but he did. Quietly, as though his words were barely there at all. Like he didn’t want her to hear them.

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “No one else ever has—why should you?”

FIFTEEN

THE COMM BUZZED in Caesar’s ear, taking his attention away from where Aria currently sat on the edge of a table in the hotel room. She wasn’t talking to him, and he wasn’t talking to her. They hadn’t said a word to one another since he took her from the locked wing in his father’s mansion, drove into the city, and set them up in this hotel for the evening.

He didn’t have anything to say—he refused to dredge up old demons to satisfy whatever fucking thing she wanted to know. What good was that going to do for him except hurt him? Hadn’t he already been hurt by that shit enough?

That’s not what this is about.

Or, it shouldn’t be.

She kept staring at him, though, and she wasn’t even ashamed to be doing it. It was almost as though she were trying to figure him out—and whatever was going on inside his mind—just by looking at him. Caesar felt like he was a bug under a goddamn microscope, but at the moment, he had more important things to be worried about other than what was going on in Aria’s head.

“Three entering the building. Raffe Ferri leading.” Cain’s voice came through the comm in Caesar’s ear with a smooth calmness that he really needed to hear right now. He would much prefer to have his eyes on Raffe from the moment the man came inside the hotel, but that just wasn’t going to happen. Cain kept him informed on what was happening, and that would have to be enough for now. “Standby.”

“Show time,” Caesar murmured to his companion.

Aria heard his words if the stiffening of her back was any indication. “Did he listen to me?”

“He only brought two men—makes three with him. I’d say yes.”

Which made this somewhat easier, and probably a hell of a lot faster. Cleaner, too, given the way Cain and his guys would work to pick off Raffe’s men either outside of the hotel room, or in the hallways depending on how they chose to try and retrieve the man’s wife. Cain and Caesar had a plan, then a backup plan, and another plan just in case.

Nothing was left to chance.

It couldn’t be.

Aria nodded, and fingered the hem of her wine-red dress. Other than first thing in the morning when they had woken up in bed together, he had never seen her without her hair and makeup done up to perfection. Today was no exception—except he thought she’d taken a special care to look even more beautiful.

Not for him, certainly.

This was all about the show for her.

She wanted to make a show out of Raffe.

Even through her beauty and carefully kept composure, Caesar found her nerves were still quietly present. He found it in her darting eyes every time she heard the smallest of noise outside the hotel room—the way she’d glance at the door like she was expecting someone to burst through it. He could see it in the small tremor working its way through her fingers even though she tried to hide them by fidgeting with something.

“It’ll be fine,” Caesar told her.

Aria’s gaze cut to him in the corner of the room. He was slightly hidden by the shadows leading into the master bedroom of the large suite. It was a good place for him to stay until he needed to come out of hiding, and do his job where Raffe was concerned. The man wouldn’t even know Caesar was coming up behind him if he walked quietly enough.

As for their hotel room, it was the only room on the top floor—a penthouse-style room with several square feet, and a hell of a lot of privacy. The hotel manager had even taken a hefty bribe to ensure his cameras would be shut off for the night, and to—no matter what—keep his employees far away from the top floor.

It was all good news for them.

Bad news for Raffe.

“One of Ferri’s men is down—stairwell,” Cain said through the comm.