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But trusting him wasn't something I was going to do just because he wanted me to. If I started talking about my family, he could use it against me.

Just like Remo did.

Watching him, his face softened. His eyes batted sympathetic lashes, lips frowning in understanding sorrow for my pain. “I won't threaten your family, Ivy. I'm not out to hurt them.”

How did he know I was thinking that?

“Yeah, I've heard that one before.” Twisting back to the window, I tried to forget all the pain I felt from being torn from them.

“I'm not Remo. Stop treating me like I'm him.” His chest pushed into my shoulder, muscles wrapping around me and warming my skin. “I would never hurt you like he did, I would never hurt your family like he promised to do. I might be evil, I might be a fucking bastard, but unlike him, I actually do what I say I'm going to.” Grabbing my hair, he forced my eyes onto his. “Don't shut me out, Ivy, I'm your only hope.”

Through thin lips, I gritted my teeth. “And yet you still don't have your mind made up. What am I supposed to do, Dante?”

“Tell me who you are.” His fingers traced my shoulder, sending shivers up my spine. “I'll make a deal with you . . .” His nails scrapped over my arm, following the contours of my back.

“I don't do deals.”

“You're doing this one.” Curling his fingers around my hip, he yanked me into his arms. “A piece of you for a piece of me.”

Arching a brow, he had me curious. I wanted to know him, there were questions I had and if I could get them without striking a nerve, I shouldn't pass up the opportunity.

“Anything I want to know?”

“Anything.”

“How do I know you're going to be honest?”

“How do I know you'll be honest?” he countered, smiling to his ears.

“You don't.”

“Exactly.” His lips touched the curve of my shoulder, goosebumps going off instantly. “Ask away.”

Thumbing my chin, I glanced around outside. “Alright, whose house is this?”

“It's my family's.”

“But—”

Tisking, Dante wagged a finger in the air. “One for one, I answered you, now it's my turn.”

Nodding, I took a deep breath, waiting for him to jump in feet first. I anticipated the worst. My nerves were skittish, stomach coiling around inside like a boa constrictor had taken hold of my organs and was squeezing the life out of them.

What did he want to know? What would he ask me?

And can I even give him an honest answer?

“Where are you from, Ivy?”

What? Seriously?

“That's your question?”

“Yes, why? Is there something wrong with my question?”

“No, I . . . I just didn't . . .”

“Then answer.”