“Know what?”

“If you are going to hand me back to Marcus.”

Dante stopped a few feet away from me.

He looked down at me, his dark eyes shifting from my face to the ledger, and then lower.

His gaze lingered on my stomach.

I instinctively pulled the black ledger tighter against my body, crossing my arms over my middle.

“You think so little of me,” he said.

He reached down and offered me his hand.

His leather glove was cool and damp from the storm outside.

I hesitated, looking at his outstretched fingers, before I finally took his hand.

He pulled me up effortlessly.

My knees felt weak, and I stumbled slightly as I stood.

Dante caught my elbow to steady me.

“You should not be sitting on the cold floor,” he said.

His voice had a strange, soft edge to it that I had never heard before.

I pulled my arm back, and he let go immediately.

“I can handle myself,” I said, trying to sound brave.

“Can you?” he asked.

He reached out and gently took the ledger from my hands.