Page 40 of Dishonored

“Then, I don’t know why you bother.”

“Because for some reason, my wife likes you. And I tend to be favorable to you—friends since kids, and all. Point being, if you make me tell my wife you got your dumbass killed over this stupid shit, then I won’t even come to piss on your grave, Caesar.”

“I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be a bad thing or a—”

“Don’t be stupid!”

“This isn’t me being stupid,” Caesar countered, “this is the least stupid thing I have done.”

“Jesus Christ.” Cain sighed harshly, and added, “I will meet you after, then?”

“Regular spot, yeah.”

“All right. Seriously, be smart.”

Right.

Caesar hung up on his friend without a goodbye, and watched as the back passenger door on the black sedan was opened. Aria stepped out of the car in a wine-red dress that looked as though it had been fucking painted on to her body. It made her heart-shaped ass an even better sight. Not to mention the way her golden, smooth legs looked walking in five-inch heels. He found that he liked the fact she had left her hair down in loose, wild curls because it was easier for him to imagine fisting her hair while he pounded into her.

Yeah.

He went there quick, fast, and in a real damn hurry.

Fuck.

He kind of hated this woman. She also turned him on like nothing else. That was probably going to be a problem. Self-control was not a word Caesar was well acquainted with, frankly, and in fact, he made a game out of giving himself whatever he wanted. Damn the consequences it might bring him, too.

Aria flicked her sunglasses to the side as a man—one Caesar didn’t recognize from following her, or from the meeting—spoke to her. She barely acknowledged him at all, and placed her sunglasses on her face as she peered around the street.

Caesar was safely hidden in an alleyway across the street. The shadows kept him hidden from view, but still allowed him free range to watch this woman coming and going from a shop she seemed to visit at least once a week.

Or, that’s what he noticed from following her.

Aria shook her head at something the man said, and when he tried to urge her toward the shop, she held up a hand. Damn. Caesar wished he had found a closer spot to hide so that he could have heard their conversation.

It didn’t seem to matter.

Aria headed into the shop without another word to her companion who was left looking as though his head was going to explode on the sidewalk. The guy glanced down the street at the sidewalk cop who was checking meters, and zones. The sign in front of the shop showcased a bright, big NO PARKING in red, block letters. Right where the fucker was parked.

Caesar wondered …

He didn’t have to think for long—the second the guy got into the black sedan and pulled out onto the street to go look for another place to park, Caesar darted out of the alleyway and headed across the street. He ignored the screech of brakes, and the horn that honked at him.

Who knew how long he had?

He didn’t think Angelo would appreciate him killing someone in broad daylight, and in the middle of a clothing store. Considering the way Aria’s men seemed to act whenever they were guarding her, it was a very real possibility that Caesar might have to do just that if one of them caught him anywhere near her.

Caesar slipped inside the boutique, and glanced up when the door jingled overtop his head at his entrance. The very second he looked straight ahead again, he found Aria staring at him with wide eyes from the other side of the boutique.

Her mouth popped open.

Caesar grinned.

Shock looked good on her.

Beside Aria, a woman stood holding a lace and satin bralette set for her to look over, but she wasn’t paying her any mind, now. In fact, she waved a hand at her as if to shoo her away. That shock was quickly replaced by narrowed eyes, and her lips pressed into a hard, grim line.

Caesar came closer, and Aria moved away from the woman. The two met in the middle of the boutique, although she was careful to keep a good two feet of space between them.