Page 126 of Dishonored

Caesar sighed. “I figured you would say that.”

Fifteen guests.

Fifteen faces Aria didn’t recognize.

Fifteen people she didn’t give a single shit about.

And yet, they couldn’t stop staring at her.

She had a good mind to give them the show they must have been expecting what with the way they kept watching her like she was some kind of wild animal in a cage. Being their little amusement for the night wasn’t even the worst part of this whole goddamn dinner.

No, the worst part was where she was sitting.

At one side, Angelo headed the table as people worked through yet another course of food. At the other end, his horrible, vile wife sat in another captain chair like the queen of the room.

And Aria?

She sat next to the bitch.

Caesar sat directly across from Aria, but for the most part, his attention was on just about anything but her. Small blessings, she supposed. One less thing for her to seethe about right then.

The queen bitch, however, was working on her fifth glass of wine, and already starting to laugh a little too loudly, and slur her words. Despite how pissed Aria was with Caesar, she could tell that the more vocal his step-mother became and the drunker she got, the more uncomfortable he was with his current seat.

He didn’t want to be there at all.

Neither did she.

Aira wished—God, more than anything, she wished—that Caesar’s discomfort didn’t affect her. After everything, she shouldn’t care about him. Not after what he did, and was still doing.

And yet, she did.

She hurt for him.

Fuck him for doing that to her, too.

“And we have good news to share tonight,” Angelo said from his spot at the head of the table. Aria hadn’t even been listening to the man drone on throughout the dinner, but he had her attention now. Especially because he was looking right at her. “As you can see,” he added with a gesture at her, “we have an unusual guest at our table tonight. Certainly not one you all expected to see, and yet here she is, as beautiful and docile as ever.”

Hesitant chuckles passed over the table. These people had to know that at the very least, she was far from docile. She had more blood on her hands than a lot of these men, likely.

Aria’s rage festered a little deeper.

Caesar’s gaze drifted to Aria, but he said nothing.

Angelo was still speaking, after all. “We’ve finally come to an … agreement, we’ll say, with the De Rose Camorra. Isn’t that right, Aria?”

Her mouth was damn dry.

Her throat protested.

And still, she spoke. “Yes, it is.”

Angelo offered her a thin smile. Like he was praising her.

Fuck him.

She didn’t need it or want it.

Angelo nodded, and wagged one finger between her, and Caesar. “They’ll be married within three months—preferably sooner, if I get my way—to solidify this new arrangement we’ve made. The business will be good, and the streets will be quiet again. I look forward to seeing my son follow through on this agreement.”