I braced myself, expecting him to be angry, to lock me away, or to call his guards.

Instead, he placed the ledger on the desk behind him without even looking at the cover.

“You are shaking,” he observed.

“It is just cold,” I lied.

“You are not a good liar, Alessia.”

He took off his damp wool coat and tossed it onto a nearby leather chair.

Underneath, he wore a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

I watched the dark tattoos on his skin catch the dim light as he moved.

“Why were you looking through my files?” he asked.

“I wanted to see what you knew about Marcus,” I said. “And about Evelyn.”

“I know everything about them,” Dante said.

He stepped closer to me, narrowing the distance between us.

“But you did not need to steal from me to find that out.”

“I do not trust you, Dante.”

“I know.”

He reached out, his hand hovering near my face before his fingers gently brushed a wet strand of hair away from my forehead.

I shivered at the warmth of his touch.