Page 2 of The Tower (Billionaire Brothers Grimm #1)

Two

Him

H im.

Here at my shoot. The man who ripped out my soul just over three years ago.

My stomach twists, and I fight the urge to vomit. I have no idea why he’s here, but he stands less than fifteen yards away, just past the small shed connecting the stairwell to the rooftop, watching as I pose and Adam clicks off shot after shot.

His hair is the color of copper, highlighted by gold—so different from the raven-black hair of his father and brothers. Even from this distance, I can see his eyes—the palest of blue, like something supernatural. Something predatory.

He wears his perfectly tailored dark suit as if he’s the one who should be in front of a camera. Or in a boardroom. Every inch of him radiates command, but this is no benevolent ruler. Liam Grimm is dangerous—just like his half-brothers. Just like his vile, outlaw of a father.

Elias Grimm may be the person I despise most in the world.

But his son Liam falls solidly into second place—not only because everything I’ve heard suggests he’s a chip off the old block, but also because of what happened at a charity gala three years ago.

Words he whispered for my ears only. Words I’d anticipated would be sweet but turned sour and rotten.

Taunts that I was nothing. That I’d tried to damage the launch of Lucent’s newest product by spreading lies.

That I was my father’s little marionette doll who only knew how to dance the tune he played. And that, like my father, I would lie and cheat to get my way.

I’d told myself he was only trying to hurt me—that he was the liar, not me. But it didn’t matter. He’d made me ashamed that I’d let myself crave him even for a moment. I’d wanted to lash out, to scream that he didn’t know me at all—but I knew him. Knew exactly what his family had done.

Knew the blackness of their souls.

But he’d slipped back into the crowd before I could find the words, much less my voice.

Now, a shiver races up my spine. Part of me wants so desperately to escape that I consider leaping over the barrier and taking my chances with the air and atoms. But another part—some foolish, hidden part—can’t help being perversely intrigued.

And the longer I watch him, the more I want to confront him and demand answers.

I turn to where my father stands just out of camera range. “Why is he here? Why is there a Grimm at our shoot?”

“Industry courtesy.” Father’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I invited Elias to see our new campaign. I knew that bastard would send a proxy.”

“You invited him? Why would you do that?”

Father shrugs, his manner infuriating, given what Elias Grimm did to my mother. “I was curious to see who he’d send in his stead. Looks like Liam may be in the running to be the next CEO.”

A dangerous smile tugs at his mouth as he turns to Adam. “Done?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then get ready for the next set-up.”

When Adam nods, Father turns his attention back to me. “And you go change before we lose the light.”

He hurries away before I can ask another question. That’s probably for the best. I’ll confess—if only to myself and Ruby—to having lusted over Liam Grimm in the past. But that was before his whispered taunt … and nothing more than a fantasy.

In the real world, Liam Grimm is not a man I care to know. Or to know anything about.

Ruby hurries over with Mindy, the wardrobe coordinator, and despite the urge to look back, I keep my eyes forward as I follow them into the small tent that serves as a changing room. “Did you see him?”

I grimace. “Father invited him. Can you believe that?”

Ruby’s mouth twists, but since Mindy’s pulling a dress over my head, I miss the rest of her expression. The rustle of stiff material blocks out her words, too.

“… surprised.”

“What?” I say, catching only the tail end.

“I said that considering the circumstances, I’m not too surprised. That your dad invited him, I mean.”

“The circumstances?” Clearly, my bestie has lost her marbles. “He’s a competitor. Giving him early access to our ad plans? It might be a stupid campaign, but that doesn’t mean Father should?—”

Ruby holds up a hand. “What are you talking about?”

“Liam Grimm,” I say with a glance toward Mindy, who looks uninterested. “His father murdered my mother, remember? Their Lucent brand is Reed Cosmetic’s biggest competitor. Ringing any bells?”

She cocks her head, her forehead furrowed. “All sorts of bells. But what does that have to do with?—?”

“Father invited Liam Grimm to the shoot,” I snap. “How can you not think that’s insane?”

“Wait. What?” She gapes at me. “Liam Grimm? Your dad invited Liam Grimm?”

“Yes! What have we been talking about?”

She runs her fingers through her tumble of auburn curls. “I had no idea. It’s just him, right? None of his brothers?”

“Just him,” I assure her. Years ago, Ruby made the mistake of dating Leo, the youngest and wildest of the Grimm brothers. To say it hadn’t ended well would be the understatement of the century.

“But if you weren’t talking about Grimm,” I ask, “then who …”

“Desmond Bane.” The name hangs in the air like icicles as Mindy extricates me from the rest of my princess garb.

I shudder. “Why were you talking about him?”

“Duh. He’s here.”

Bile rises in my throat. Desmond Bane is a walking horror movie with the Midas touch.

Everyone in my family’s social circle knows he’s the vilest human on the planet—and that he’s had a thing for me since I was fourteen.

Seeing him here on the day of my shoot is really not a good sign.

I’m in only a bra and panties now, and I yank a robe off the rack, waving away Mindy and the hanger overflowing with the next costume.

“Back up,” I say to Ruby as I slip on the robe and tighten the belt, as if the flimsy silk could provide any real protection. “Tell me all of it.”

Ruby shrugs. “That’s all I know. He’s here. He’s an investor, right? So I guess it makes sense.”

“Has he been talking with Father?”

“Mostly he’s been watching you and rubbing his hands together like some creepy, evil mastermind.”

I shudder. She’s exaggerating the evil mastermind part—probably—but that doesn’t change the fact that Desmond Bane has a reputation for breaking his toys. And his favorite toys are his ex-wives and mistresses.

“Father’s probably convincing him to invest another mil or two,” I say, as much to convince myself as Ruby.

“An investment,” Ruby repeats, as Mindy helps me into the next wearable torture device. “That must be it.” Ruby’s frown suggests she doesn’t believe it. Then again, maybe she’s frowning at my outfit—yet another overly sugary princess dress.

I scowl, then poke her.

“Ouch!”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I—it’s probably nothing. Okay!” she adds when I give her the look .

“It’s just that earlier today, Anita told me that he had a breakfast meeting with your father in the small dining room.

She was the one serving them, and you know how they talk when the help’s around, like Anita’s invisible and stupid.

So she heard a lot when she wasn’t back in the kitchen. ”

“And?”

“They were talking about tomorrow’s gala. She said your father mentioned some big announcement.”

“About what?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Not for sure.”

“Not for sure?” I repeat. “That means you think something.”

“Just—Desmond’s been hot for you since forever, and your dad wants access to his bank account.”

“And you think, what? That Father’s going to sell me? Money in exchange for a ring on my finger?” That’s absurd. Except it’s not, and Ruby knows it, too.

She drags her fingers through her curls. “It’s only—Sasha, I’ve got a really bad feeling. Can you get out of going to the gala?”

I just cock my head. She knows the answer as well as I do.

She lets out a long breath. “Well, at least I’ll be there, too.”

I nod, remembering that she’s going to be working as a waiter for the catering service. “It’s probably nothing,” I say, but even as I speak the words, I know they’re wrong. With my father, it’s never nothing.

He has some horrible new plan for me. Which means that tomorrow night, I need to be ready for anything.

Mindy ducks out of the changing tent and I’m about to follow, but Ruby tugs me back. “So? How are you feeling? You ditched them, right? Do you feel any different yet? Everything I read said it might take a while to get out of your system.”

I’d read the same thing, and so far, it’s true.

I tell her how my phobias feel more potent—heights and open spaces.

It’s harder to stand where the photographer wants than it was the last time we shot on the roof.

“But I feel more … I don’t know … here, I guess.

It comes and goes. One minute I feel grounded, and the next, I almost feel like I’m floating.

I think that’s normal, though, because there’s still crap in my system. ”

“Well, if anything feels really off, you take them, okay? Your father’s an ass, but surely even he wouldn’t pump you full of drugs you don’t really need.”

“I’m fine,” I say, which isn’t an answer at all. But this isn’t the time or the place to tell her she’s wrong. Besides, she already knows it. She just doesn’t want to believe that anyone would drug his own daughter just to make her more obedient.

And maybe he’s not. I don’t have any solid proof.

Just the way I feel when I take the meds compared to when I don’t.

And not just about how I feel. On the few days I’ve risked going without my meds, I’ve come close to remembering my mother.

Not just the horrible day when she died, but snuggly moments on the couch and laughing moments as we played games on the floor.

I want those memories back all the time. And I know it’s the meds that are keeping them away.

But Ruby’s right. Nobody would drug their own child without a good reason. So something must be wrong with me. Either that, or something is very wrong with Father.