Page 11 of The Tower (Billionaire Brothers Grimm #1)

In my mind— my dream? —I look around, searching for Elias Grimm. But it’s just Father and me. And the deafening silence that a moment ago was my mother’s scream.

After what feels like an eternity, Father turns and slowly walks to me. He reaches down and pulls me to my feet as Kitty falls from my lap.

“I tried to grab her sweater. You saw me. I tried to pull her back, but I couldn’t save her.

” His words are low and measured. “I’m sorry, sweet girl, but you saw that bastard, Elias Grimm.

He came here. He took her from us. Elias Grimm is a monster.

You saw him murder your mother. You saw it with your own eyes, just like I did.

Tell me, precious girl. Tell me you saw. ”

“I saw it,” I say as hot tears spill from my eyes.

“He’s a monster,” Father says. “And he murdered your mother.”

“A monster,” I whisper. Then, “ Mommy!”

My scream pulls me from the dream—the memory?— and Grimm rushes to me, studying my face. “You believe me,” he says softly. “You remember how she really died.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe.”

“It’s true. You know it is.”

He’s right. But I say nothing.

“And the rest? Do you know why you didn’t remember before? Why you thought my father was there?”

“He drilled it into me,” I whisper. “Over and over and over.” It’s the root of my agoraphobia and my fear of heights. My father killed my mother in front of me. He broke me.

And for years he’s been using me.

I shiver, then brush away the tears that have dampened my cheeks.

I want to scream that I don’t believe any of this.

Except I do. Of course, I do. I know better than anyone alive what he’s capable of.

I’ve looked into my father’s eyes. I’ve been the recipient of his ego, his pride, his manipulation, and the fallout from his ambition.

“He played with my memory,” I whisper.

Grimm nods. “And your meds keep the memories suppressed.” He tilts his head, studying me. “You didn’t take them yesterday, did you?”

I shake my head, my mind turning his words over and over. My father’s been manipulating my memory.

I hug my knees to my chest, trying to breathe. “Why do you care about any of this?” I finally ask.

“Let’s just say that I have as much reason to hate your father as you do.”

It’s not an answer, but I know it’s the best I’ll get tonight. It also has the ring of truth.

His eyes lock on mine. “Your mother fell to her death from the roof of your home. A place where you should be safe. “But you’ve never been safe there, have you Princess?”

I want to snap at him for calling me that, but I remember the damn rules. So I just glare instead.

He ignores me, pushing on. “Your mother fell into the void,” he says, his voice surprisingly gentle. “And that fall was one of the building blocks of your fear. Your father knew it would be.”

I hug myself. I don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but I’m certain I don’t want to follow him there.

“But that wasn’t enough for him to be sure,” Grimm continues, his words drowning out my whispers to “stop, stop, oh, please, stop.”

“Victor Reed’s a clever, manipulative man. And it’s you he manipulated most of all. Then he locked in your fears and anxieties with one more incident. You know what I’m talking about, Princess. This time, you tell me.”

I press my lips tight and shake my head. Just tiny movements as I try to find someplace to hide. Like Elysium, only in my mind.

But at the same time, some part of me doesn’t want to disappear. That part wants to hear more. To maybe, finally, understand what kind of monster my father truly is.

“That’s it,” he says, apparently reading my face. “Tell me what happened when you were eight.”

“How—” My voice comes out weak. Shaky. I hug my knees tighter. “How do you know about that?”

“My father would have been a fool not to research the competition. And I would be a fool not to review his files.” A smug grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t have a damn thing to do with Lucent, Princess. My business is information. And I know how to get what I need.”

I stay silent, and after what feels like an eternity, he says, “When you were eight, you got separated from your nanny. You were lost in Rockefeller State Park for hours. That contributed to your condition as well. Being out in the open. Alone. Afraid. Unable to anchor yourself to anything. Unable to find help.”

I close my eyes, blocking the hazy memory. The joy I’d felt watching a huge hawk in a tree. Then the terror when I’d turned around, only to find that Jennifer, my nanny, was gone. The fear that had washed over me when I’d wandered for hours, only to have the night creep up on me like death.

The way the trees extended their arms to grab me and hold me there.

The way my screams went unanswered, as if I were the only one on earth.

I was going to starve. I was going to fall to the ground and die.

Then my body would decompose and I’d be nothing, just like the corpse of a decomposing rat I’d once tripped over in the basement.

“I was terrified,” I admit, my voice small.

“Of course you were. And when your father found you, he should have soothed you. Helped you. Instead, he yelled at you.”

Grimm’s right. I still remember my father’s shouts that I was disobedient and stupid. That I’d never learn, and it would have served me right for him to have left me there.

I swallow, then look straight at Grimm. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve been … intrigued by you for some time.

I asked around. There were several people in the search party who witnessed your father’s tirade and agreed to talk to me.

And once I located Jennifer and assured her that her story would stay between the two of us, she told me your father had paid her to leave you there.

He told her it was a rite of passage, and you would be fine.

She didn’t want to do it, but she was afraid he’d hurt her son if she didn’t.

I hug myself tighter, not sure what to say or how to feel. It’s Liam Grimm telling me this. A man I’ve despised for years, from a family I’ve grown up hating.

I draw one breath, then another, hoping to calm my racing pulse. I don’t like being fragile. And I like even less showing that weakness to this man. This enemy.

“It’s been a long day,” I say. “Is there someplace for me to sleep?”

I cringe and look down as soon as I say it, realizing it’s a stupid question.

Everything .

Of course, he’s going to want me in his bed.

“There’s a room made up for you just down the hall.”

“Oh.” I stand, feeling strangely hollow. I tell myself that the feeling is relief.

I point toward my tiny handbag, now on a side table. “I guess I should take my meds.”

I don’t want to. I like how my mind felt clearer at the shoot and then even more so today. But not being able to approach Grimm’s window …

I shake my head. I don’t want to be weak. Not around him. And if the meds can make the phobias more manageable, then maybe I really should be taking them.

“No.” He stands, then moves to my side so that there’s only the tiniest bit of air between us. So close I can feel the warmth of his breath when he says, “Haven’t you been listening? Your meds are bullshit. A way to keep you manageable.”

My pulse kicks up. “Maybe, but Father’s not here. And you don’t understand what it feels like when the world wants to swallow you. The phobias, I—they help.”

“Do they?” His voice is flat. Entirely devoid of inflection. A total contrast to my rising fury.

“You don’t know a thing about me or my medical history or anything. You hate my father. You hate me. And now you’re going to try to gaslight me? Make it so I can’t even sit across a room and look at the view out the window? Well, screw you. It’s not going to work.”

“I’m not gaslighting. Quite the opposite. I’m trying to help you.”

“Why does this matter to you, anyway?” I snap. “And how the hell do you know so much about it?” I cross my arms and glare at him. “Oh, right. You’ve been watching me. That’s not even remotely creepy.”

Instead of looking pissed, he looks amused. Which, frankly, makes me even more pissed.

“You’re right. I pay attention,” he says in a soothe-the-angry-puppy tone. “To everything.” His eyes lock hard on mine. “But mostly, I search out anything that might give me enough leverage to destroy Victor Reed. Anything, Princess,” he adds, his expression as hard as stone. “Whatever it takes.”

My body feels both cold and hot. I lick my suddenly dry lips. “What are you talking about?”

His brow lifts, and his mouth curves into a half-smile as he inches even closer. I draw in a sharp breath, willing myself not to scurry back away from him.

“Let me be very, very clear, Ms. Reed. I’ll help you conquer your fears and break your dependence on pills because it suits me.

But you are not my goal nor my priority.

I need your meds identified and analyzed.

And I need you clear-headed. Therefore, I will make you that way.

I will do that and whatever else is necessary to take your father down, including using you in whatever way I deem fit. ”

I search for words but can’t find any. His brutal honesty has surprised me too much.

“Bottom line? I don’t like Victor Reed.” His mouth quirks into a half-smile, and I see a flicker of humor in those cold blue eyes as he adds, “I don’t think you like him either.

” He steps even closer, his proximity making it harder to think.

“That may not make us friends, but it does make us allies.”

“Really?” I keep my head tilted down, afraid if I look up at him, I’ll lose my words. “How does that work? You’ve pretty much told me I’m your slave.”

“True.” He takes a step back, his eyes roaming over me once again. “But I think you’ll enjoy it.”

My cheeks heat, as does the area between my legs.

He notices my blush, of course, and that devilish smile returns. “Oh, I have plans for you, make no mistake. And you will comply with everything in our agreement. But in our few minutes of free time, I think we can help each other.”

I fight the urge to hug myself, not sure if the tightness in my body is a longing to run or something far more complicated. “Help?” I try to keep my voice casual. “So, you’re helping me out of the goodness of your heart because my father is mistreating me?”

“I know you’ve been sheltered, but are you really that naive?”

“Dammit, just tell me why you’re helping me.” I want to add you son of a bitch , but I force my lips together.

He tilts his head. “This is good.”

“What?”

“You’re stronger than I thought you’d be. Considering everything he’s done to you, I thought you’d be broken.”

“Maybe I am, but you can’t see it because you’re even more broken.”

“Maybe,” he says without irony.

I swallow, more unnerved than I should be. “Answer the question. Why are you helping me?”

“Because, Princess, you’re the perfect weapon to bring him down.”

“Oh.” The bluntness is almost refreshing after years of my father’s subtle manipulations. “And you want to destroy my father because …”

“That’s not your concern.”

I frown, but he’s right. And frankly, if he wants to take my father down … well, faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill!

“So, I’m a means to an end,” I say.

“As I am to you.” Grimm’s smile is sharp. He spreads his arm to encompass the room, the entire tower. “Didn’t I bring you to a sanctuary? I think that gives us mutual ground upon which to move forward, don’t you?”

I nod, even though we both know I have no choice.

“Excellent.” He’s perched on the edge of the ottoman, but now he gets up, goes to the bar, and returns with fresh drinks. He passes one to me, then holds his out as if for a toast. “To our arrangement,” he says, raking a wolfish gaze over me. “May it be both productive and … entertaining.”

I square my shoulders, anticipating an order to strip, his words from earlier ringing through my head. I want to fuck you. I want to taint you.

Any moment now he’ll demand payment, and my horrible, hated, secret truth is that I want him to.

Which is why when he finally escorts me to a small bedroom, then runs his fingertips gently over my neck and down my bare arm, my breath hitches and my body fires in a way that is both unfamiliar and strangely—terrifyingly—welcome.

Then he taps my chin with his fingertip, politely says goodnight, and walks away, leaving me standing like a fool in the doorway, not sure if I want to laugh or cry.