Page 134 of Dishonored

“Absolutely.”

“My initial reaction is to apologize.”

“Please don’t,” Caesar murmured. “Actually, let’s talk about something else.”

Aria nodded. “Okay—why did you send me here?”

“Because this is your home, isn’t it?”

“It is, but that doesn’t explain anything, Caesar.”

“Do you not want to be here?”

“I have always wanted to be here.”

He gestured at the room. “Here you are.”

“Yes, alone. Minus you.”

“And you’ll remain that way. No guards—no men of ours stepping in on your business. You’re free to do what you want until we see this agreement of ours through.”

She stiffened, then.

He didn’t miss it.

“The marriage, you mean,” she said quietly.

Caesar shrugged. “What else?”

“I thought—”

“What, that because I let you come home and be comfortable that the deal was done? I don’t go back on my word. There’s still something I need, after all, and you can get it for me.”

Aria blinked.

Her anger was a slow simmer in those green eyes.

Getting hotter by the second.

“Would I be so bad?” he asked. “We get along well enough when we’re not trying to kill each other, and it’s not like you don’t enjoy being on your back for me.”

Her cheeks pinked, but she only asked, “To marry?”

“Exactly that.”

“You’re trapping me. It’s not by choice. There’s the difference.”

Caesar sighed. “For one’s freedom, someone else always has to sacrifice. I’m sure you know that well, considering everything you’ve done to get to this point.”

Aria’s jaw clenched. “That doesn’t mean—”

“You know, when I have a night like tonight, the first thing I do is … something destructive. Usually to someone else, although I have been known to go out and fuck myself up nearly beyond repair, too. I just want to forget; I don’t want to feel, or think. It’s easier. I get pissed off, and I need to distribute it elsewhere, so I don’t implode on myself.”

“Your point?”

Simple, really.

“I know I could get that with you right now if I just pushed you the right way.”