Page 83 of Dishonored

It wasn’t just women he hated—he simply found it easier to hate them than men, usually. But typically, he hated everyone. No one was special.

That was all.

Angelo sighed, and leaned back into the chair. A false appearance of relaxation if there ever was one; Angelo rarely relaxed around his oldest son. He was always prepping for Caesar’s next fuck up in one way or another.

“You have access to the De Rose whore, don’t you?” Angelo asked.

Caesar’s brow lifted. “I’m sorry?”

“Raffaele Ferri’s wife—Aria, yes? The one you were fucking. I assume he doesn’t know about that—or if he does, it was something they had planned.”

“I don’t think he knew, no,” Caesar said.

He still wasn’t sure why, though. Or what Aria’s reasoning for that had been other than to blackmail Caesar. Surely, she was causing enough damage between their respective organizations without adding him to the mix, too.

Apparently not.

“Regardless,” his father said with a wave of his hand, “do you have access to the woman, or not?”

“You told me to stay—”

“You’re not answering my questions, Caesar.”

He cleared his throat. “I could get access to her, if I needed to, yes.”

Aria was out of the city—had been since yesterday. Some shooting had caused her husband to send her away for protection. Shame the foolish Camorra boss didn’t realize his wife had already signed and sealed her death warrant when she fucked with Caesar. There was no way in hell he was going to allow that woman out of his sights for too long.

She might plan something.

Caesar needed to know what it was.

“I want the Ferri man to answer for what he did to Alice … and Daniele,” Angelo murmured. “I am tired of trying to play the diplomat here.”

When have you ever been a diplomat?

Caesar kept his thoughts to himself.

Angelo wouldn’t appreciate them.

“I think starting with the man’s wife will really drive a point home,” his father continued, “and since you seem to have some … knowledge about her, and a way to get to her, I figured it might be best to put this in your hands. One thing for you to do—surely you can do it, Caesar. Without fucking up, I might add.”

Caesar heard his father’s words.

He didn’t trust them, though.

“And what does giving me this job have anything to do with Canada and the new arrangement?”

“I will nullify it,” Angelo answered. “No marriage—your latest misdeeds will be entirely forgiven. We will hit the proverbial restart button, and start fresh, so to speak.”

Like he needed forgiveness.

His father just assumed he wanted it.

“You’re to kill her, and then we can draw in her husband,” Angelo said, shrugging his broad shoulders. “You know how I feel about killing women … either way, you can do this, and then I will give you what you want, too. How does that sound?”

Hell, he’d do it even if dissolving the marriage thing wasn’t on the table.

Caesar owed Aria after everything …