Page 53 of Dishonored

“I went to see my father today,” Aria said, changing direction in their conversation just like that with everything still left hanging. “He’s a good place to go when I need to clear my head, or get a different perspective. He reminded me—sitting in his prison uniform and behind Plexiglas—that everything and anything is fair game when it comes to getting what I want.”

The mention of her father made Caesar take notice—the man was in lockup for what, he didn’t know, and for how long, he didn’t care. It was the first time she had mentioned him to Caesar, however, although he didn’t know why that irked him so much.

It shouldn’t matter at all.

He didn’t miss the fondness in her tone, or the way her painted-red lips curved softly at the edges in happiness. He didn’t get those kinds of feelings at all when he thought about his own father—hatred and bitterness, sure. Not happiness or love, though.

It was … strange to him.

Foreign, even.

Aria had come closer to Caesar at an antagonizing slow speed until she came to a stop right in front of him. It had given him the chance to take all of her in again, but now he was only staring at her face, and those bright green eyes of hers meeting his blue gaze.

She was fire, he thought.

But he felt like ice.

“Have you thought about what I said?” she asked. “About stepping back, and letting me do my business … or even helping me? I let you have a bit of time to think everything over, and now here I am to get an answer. Do you have one for me?”

“I don’t have all the details, so no.”

“Shame. I hate waiting on a man.”

She came subtly closer again—enough that he could see the way her dark, long lashes curved high, and he could count the diamonds in the cluster studs she’d put in her earlobes. It was distracting and disconcerting.

Aria smirked. “Does this feel familiar, Caesar? You seem to like crowding my fucking space, and setting me off balance. That’s your game, isn’t it? That’s how you get what you want from women, or it’s how you mess them up enough to find your in?”

Caesar laughed bitterly. “What, did you take a few days to recoup from our meeting, and decide you wanted a second go at it? Now it’s your turn to try and fuck with me? That’s not how this is going to work, Aria.”

“Isn’t it?”

Her simple, soft-spoken question was punctuated by a sexy grin before she tried to slip past him to leave. Caesar acted out of the sudden dark urge that pummeled its way through his insides, and nothing else when he reached out and grabbed hold of Aria’s elbow. Swinging her back around to face him again with a sharp word on his tongue, he nearly missed her open palmed slap coming his way.

Almost.

“Don’t you dare—”

He caught her wrist with his free hand, and her blazing gaze with his own. It silenced whatever retort was about to come out of her pretty mouth, but he didn’t really care. Her show of anger had his own irritation soaring high.

“I told you not to play games with me,” he murmured. “Didn’t I?”

She never blinked—never flinched. “You think this is a game, Caesar?”

“I think—”

“I don’t care what you think,” she snapped. “Now let me go.”

“I don’t think so.”

His response was clearly not what she wanted. Aria moved fast, then, dropping her clutch to the floor and using her free hand to swing at him again. Both of his hands were tied up in holding her some way and he didn’t get the chance to catch her in time.

Not before her hand connected with his face, anyway.

Crack.

The force of her slap sent his head snapping to the side as a sting radiated over his cheek. He swore he could taste a bit of blood blooming in his mouth, too.

Fuck this woman.