Page 130 of Dishonored

“Not to be here,” Caesar said. “Let’s go find your friend while we still have time to.”

The mansion had quickly emptied of guests—other than a couple of stragglers, but those were people Caesar expected to find when he finally made his way to his father’s office upstairs. For once, Angelo didn’t sit behind his desk. Instead, he stood by the windows and stared out over his property.

His underboss, Christoph, was in the midst of pouring two glasses of whiskey when Caesar came through the doorway. One of which he handed to the organization’s consigliere, Davide. His half-brother, Daniele, sat in a chair closer to their father.

No one noticed him standing there.

It was strange.

It felt insulting.

His whole life had been people overlooking things that should have been noticed. At the very least, someone should have thought to ask.

No one ever had.

None of these people, anyway.

Christoph glanced up from his drink, asking, “Angelo, do you want a drink?”

“Not right now,” Angelo replied, glancing over his shoulder. It was then that his gaze landed on Caesar. There was no sympathy in his father’s eyes, but the rage was gone, too. Angelo looked entirely done with the day. “There you are—come in, and we’ll have a chat.”

Yes, a chat.

That was a funny way to describe discussing what had happened.

All things considered …

Caesar only came far enough into the office to pass the threshold of the door. Right then, he didn’t want to be any closer to these people. He didn’t like the way their gazes drifted to him, and then lingered a beat too long.

He was the troublemaker.

A sinner.

The issue.

He caused problems because that gave people enough shit to focus on where he was concerned. It was what they could always expect from him—guaranteed.

Now … now they were looking for something else.

And he hated that.

Angelo turned away from the window, and sighed. “Where is the woman?”

“She has a name,” Caesar said, knowing exactly who his father was referring to. “And she’s gone. I sent her away with someone I picked—not your guard—and the man from her family.”

Angelo’s expression hardened. “You sent her away.”

“You said to be rid of her. Did you want her to stay?”

“I meant I wanted her—”

“Dead,” Caesar interrupted coolly. “Yeah, I figured that, but it’s not going to happen. I made an agreement, and I intend to see it through.”

His father scoffed, and wagged a finger at him. “Come on, now, figlio. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you why you won’t be marrying that woman after tonight. You can’t honestly expect me to allow a marriage between you and her after the things she said, and what she did to my wife.”

Silence echoed in the room.

Thick.