Page 69 of Dishonored

First, the car stayed idling in a No Parking Zone for a good two minutes before the driver’s door opened. It wasn’t the first sight Caesar had gotten of Aria’s husband, Raffaele Ferri; he’d been tailing the two ever since the man arrived back in the country. The bull of a man was nearly as tall as he was wide with dark hair he liked to keep slicked back with some kind of gel or oil.

Raffe—as Caesar had been told the man liked to be called—had eyes that never stopped darting from one thing to the next as though something might jump out at him. In three days, Caesar had seen the man intimidate the men who worked for him, stay permanently close to his wife’s side whenever they were out, and make his daily rounds around the city.

That was how Caesar knew where they would be today.

Yeah.

Creatures of habit.

Raffe was quick to move around the front of the Mercedes, and when he came up to the passenger side, he waved his finger in a circle at the window. A silent order for the person in the passenger seat to roll it down.

She did.

Aria, that was.

Even in the shadows of the car, Caesar had a perfect view of Aria sitting in the passenger seat with her hair down in loose curls, and a scarf fixed around her throat. That was probably the first time he’d ever seen her wear anything other than a necklace or choker.

Not that it mattered.

Her gaze drifted to her husband as Raffe leaned down to speak to her, but it was the shake of her head at whatever he said that made the man stiffen. She shrugged, and then gestured at him before nodding at the restaurant they were parked in front of.

One Raffe regularly visited.

It took another minute or two of the husband and wife talking before Raffe stood up straight, and nodded once. Then, he slapped a hand against the hood of the car before he darted back around the front of the car. Three seconds later, and the man disappeared inside the entrance doors of the business.

No doubt, Raffe would be busy inside the restaurant for a good twenty minutes or more. Caesar didn’t know what kind of business the man had here, but he always left with a doggy bag of food in one hand, and a thick manila envelope in the other. Dinner and cash … fascinating.

Except Caesar didn’t care.

At all.

Now’s my chance.

Caesar hadn’t gotten one of those in days—a chance, that was. Not one to approach Aria, anyway. Her husband rarely left her side, and now that he was back in the country, it seemed the woman couldn’t even leave her house without the man next to her.

The graveyard had been a spur of the moment decision, and looking back, maybe a bad one at that. Then again, Caesar had never had much respect for the dead, or their grieving family. He didn’t care for rules that dictated his behavior or what was expected of him. In fact, he was known to do exactly the opposite of everything he was told to do just because he fucking could. And so, he had gone just to see …

Lucky him that she had been alone.

That he could get her alone.

Kind of like now.

Caesar pushed out from under the enclave entrance to a small café, and into the bright sunlight of the day. Across the street from the business, it had kept him hidden well enough from view, and allowed him the chance to wait.

Plus have a drink of coffee.

Win-win.

Caesar dropped his to-go cup in a trash bin just before he stepped out onto the quiet street, and shoved his hands in his pockets. His aviator sunglasses kept his gaze hidden from view as he came closer to the vehicle Aria was waiting inside.

Her gaze drifted to the side, and caught him coming her way just as she had started to roll up the window—it was a little hot out, he supposed. The sight of her eyes widening almost made him smile.

Fuck.

She always looked good when he surprised her.

“Question,” Caesar said as he came up to the side of the car. “If you wouldn’t mind answering, that is.”