“Dante,” I managed to say, holding myself tight.

He stopped a foot away from me, his presence immediately overwhelming the room.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a damp strand of hair away from my cheek.

His touch was warm, but his expression was entirely cold.

“They touched you?” he asked.

“No,” I whispered. “Leo arrived in time.”

Dante looked over my shoulder at Leo, who nodded once.

“The Valentis have the document,” Leo said. “Marcus used her signature to guarantee the four million.”

Dante’s jaw tightened, a muscle leaping in his cheek.

“Marcus is a dead man,” Dante said quietly.

He looked back down at me, his gaze dropping to the way I held my coat closed.

My hand was still pressed against my stomach, a protective instinct I couldn’t seem to control.

Dante’s eyes lingered on my hand for a fraction of a second too long.

“You look pale,” he said, his voice dropping a register.

“I’m just tired,” I said, stepping back slightly to break the intensity of his stare.

“We will get you settled,” Dante said. “You will stay here, where they cannot reach you.”