Page 4 of Dishonored

Inside the three-level, two-wing monster of a home, Caesar became slightly more agitated than before. His gaze was drawn upward—to a place that left him most haunted whenever he was forced to come here, and stay for longer than a breath.

Monster was a good word for this place, as it certainly felt like it could be a living, breathing thing. A tangible horror he couldn’t escape from that left him feeling tainted in far more ways than one.

Much like the people inside.

Or because of the people inside.

It was all the same now.

Daniele broke away from Caesar the moment he could, and without a goodbye. Likely to find his mother—a woman, Martina, Caesar’s father had married shortly after his mother died when he was only four. Soon after, Daniele came along.

Caesar remembered that day vividly.

And the years that followed.

All those fucking years.

His jaw clenched harder, and he felt the pain throbbing in his molars from the action. It was his go-to move to get the hell out of his thoughts and memories—pain, or sex. One or the other, because he wasn’t fucking picky.

Either one would do the deal.

Get it over with; see him, and get out.

His thoughts had the right idea, so he went in search of his father in the large mansion. Unsurprisingly, he found Angelo in his large office sitting behind his domineering oak desk. He never understood the need for a man to have a desk that size other than to show off wealth, or intimidate a man standing on the other side of it.

But who was he to say?

Caesar stood in the doorway until his father pretended like he noticed his waiting presence. Angelo knew his oldest son was there from the moment Daniele drove them through the gate. That’s what the half of a dozen fucking guards were for.

“There you are,” Angelo said, sitting straighter in his chair, and folding his hands on the desk. “Give me the good news, son.”

Yes, the good news.

That the marriage would happen.

That all was well.

That Angelo got what he wanted.

Caesar shrugged, and felt the tension in his shoulders loosening a bit at the promise of what was to come when he said, “A bit of a change in plans, I guess.”

Instantly, the happiness in Angelo’s expression fled. “How so?”

“New York had to back out for … reasons. Seems their daughter somehow got back to her Russian husband, and well, our marriage won’t be going ahead.”

It took a second.

Then, two.

Caesar waited with a small smile that he couldn’t be bothered to hide.

And then there it was.

Molten red dotting his father’s cheeks. Narrowed eyes as Angelo took Caesar and his gleeful disposition in all over again.

Rage.

Disappointment.