Page 27 of The Tower (Billionaire Brothers Grimm #1)

Nineteen

Unicorn Spotting

I know you’re just using her to turn the knife in Reed’s belly.

The words I overheard shouldn’t have stung. I’ve known his motives from the beginning. It’s not as if he’d been coy about wanting to bring my father down.

I’d gone in with eyes open, backflips, and cheerleader pom-poms waving just from the possibility that Liam Grimm could get me away from my father and Desmond Bane and a future in which I remain a prisoner in a gilded cage with a man I despise.

More than that, Grimm’s offer came with a coveted gift with purchase—the chance to bring down my father’s business entirely.

All I had to do was give him my body. And my blood.

It had all been so very transactional. So much so that I’m surprised we didn’t pop into one of those all-night notary places after we fled the gala:

Sasha Reed (Damsel) does solemnly swear that in exchange for services rendered by Liam Grimm (His Royal Hotness) in the protection of Damsel’s person, the downfall of Damsel’s father, and the rescue of Damsel from a hideous future as 1.) the wedded wife of Desmond Bane (Evil Troll) and 2.) the subservient daughter of the aforesaid prick of a father, Damsel will hereby provide her very blood for analysis and her body for … whatever His Royal Hotness desires.

So, yeah. Eyes open. A business deal.

Sterile. Businesslike.

And yet …

And yet somehow everything that has happened since we left Grimm Tower feels different. His gentle touch when he’d cleaned my feet. The way he’d carried me back to the hotel, safe in the circle of his arms.

Liam Grimm had done that. A man with a reputation for being cold and hard.

I’d let my perception be swayed. I started to believe I’d been wrong about him. I’d started to trust him.

Hell, I’d started to like him.

I know you’re just using her to turn the knife in Reed’s belly.

And there it is. Those words that can have only one fundamental meaning: that Sasha Reed is a foolish little girl who put too much stock in a five-minute encounter with Grimm sixteen years ago when he’d actually been a human being. A chance encounter that Grimm probably doesn’t even remember.

But I do, and that’s my bad. Because there’s nothing soft or human about Grimm. There’s only calculation.

I rub my face, realizing my cheeks are damp with tears. Idiot .

And the worst part of all?

I still crave him.

Dammit .

I want to go into the other room and log into Elysium, but he’s still in there, and I don’t want to see him. More than that, I don’t want him to know about my secret world.

Instead, I draw a breath, close my eyes, and try to picture my realm. Vale walking over the fields. Ember turning somersaults in the sky. And my prince crossing the bridge over the moat as he makes his way toward me, boldly walking into the castle despite my royal father’s disapproval.

I continue spinning the tale, breaking the castle rules and ignoring my father’s edicts.

Soon, my prince is in my chamber, his face shadowed, but today I can see his eyes.

As bright and wide as the sky out the window.

When he pulls me close, I think that there’s something familiar about him.

But his kiss steals my thoughts, and I slide into bliss—and slumber—in the safety of his arms.

The next thing I know, I’m blinking at the sun streaming in through the small window.

I yawn and push myself up, only then noticing Liam on the other side of the room. He’s leaning against the dresser, arms crossed, looking at me.

I pull the sheet up to cover my breasts, a motion that earns a half-smile from my audience.

“Why ruin such a lovely view?”

“I guess I’m just bitchy that way.” I glance around, looking for my leggings and T-shirt. “Do you see my clothes?”

“I sent them out to be washed.”

“Great. Fine. Wonderful.” I rub my head, wincing a bit from the light. I’m not sure if it’s withdrawal from my meds or if I just need caffeine, but right now, coffee sounds really good. I nod toward the little coffee maker. “Could you bring me one?”

His brows rise. “I think you’re more than capable.”

“Very chivalrous.” I hold the sheet to keep myself covered as I start to tug it free of the mattress, figuring I can wear it toga-style.

The bastard chuckles. “Why bother? I’ve already seen everything.”

“Would you just get out of here?” I snap.

His brows rise as he looks around the room. “I believe I’m paying for this space.”

Honestly, I don’t know if I want to laugh or slap him. Probably both.

I do neither. Instead, I stand, then reach for the robe flung across a nearby chair. He grabs it up first. I glare, then walk naked to the coffee maker, pour a cup, then take it with me to the bathroom—all to show him that his stupid games are no big deal at all.

When I come out, my hair is brushed and I’m wearing a towel. He catches my arm, pulls the towel off, and tugs me into his arms.

“Stop it, you perv.” I shove him away, and he lifts his arms as if in surrender—and I honestly can’t tell if he’s amused or irritated. Probably both.

“You rescued me last night.”

He steps closer, “I did.”

I have to tilt my head back to look at him and end up practically swimming in the blue of his eyes. The same blue I’d seen in my prince’s eyes.

“It reminded me of another time you rescued me,” I tell him. “A time when you weren’t an ass.”

He frowns. “Are you sure it was me? That sounds like spotting a unicorn.”

It’s not the comment I was expecting, and I have to press my lips together not to laugh.

I turn my back to him so he can’t see my struggle, then I march back to the bed and pull the sheet up to my chest. I wait, anticipating an order to stand at attention naked in front of him, but the order doesn’t come.

Instead, his eyes narrow, and he shakes his head slowly. “I think I’d remember rescuing a damsel in distress.”

“It was at that Farmer’s Market in the park.” I fight a shudder. “I hadn’t wanted to go, but Father had made me. I was ten and in a loose dress with a silly hat that my nanny had let me buy. There had been a face painter, and he’d put flowers on my cheeks. It was fun.”

“Your father forced you to go to an open-air market? That was only three years after he killed your mother. You were deep into your phobias at that age.”

I nod, strangely unsurprised that he knows that.

“I begged him not to make me go, but he insisted. Said I needed to learn to get over it .” I clench my fists and draw a deep breath.

“That was the day that I learned that there was no ceiling on my hatred for my father.” I meet his eyes. “Does that make me horrible?”

“No.” He shakes his head, just the smallest of movements, and I’m struck by the thought that he’s working hard not to move more.

Afraid that if he releases control of his muscles, he’ll lash out in fury against my father.

He’s miles and years from that moment, and yet just seeing his reaction makes the memory easier to bear.

“Not horrible at all,” he adds, his voice as tight as a wire.

“It turned out not to be as terrifying as I’d expected. Ruby and Birgit were with me, so that helped. Plus, the placement of the stalls formed walls. So it turned out to be enclosed enough that I could handle it. Or, at least, I handled it for a little while.”

“What happened?” He comes closer as he asks, then sits at the foot of the bed. I hold the sheet more firmly against my chest.

“Ruby and I went exploring, and somehow we got separated. I couldn’t find her or Birgit or Father or anyone. That’s when I stopped being able to handle it.”

I continue with the story, hugging my knees to my chest as I tell him how terrified I’d been, standing in the middle of this huge space that had seemed safe only moments before, but was now closing in all around me.

I started crying, then cried even harder because I was certain the pretty flowers on my cheeks would be ruined.

Then there was a boy—except not a boy. A teenager. Seventeen, eighteen. Around there. And he took my hand and led me to the place where lost kids check-in. Then he stayed with me until Birgit found me.

My father never knew. He just assumed I was with Birgit the whole time. “But if that boy hadn’t helped me,” I say after telling him all of that, “I would have been gone longer, and I know my father would have—well, I know it would have been bad.”

For a moment, there’s no expression on his face at all.

Then he nods slowly, as if I’d told him nothing more important than what I’d had for dinner.

“So I helped a frightened kid,” he finally says.

“That doesn’t make me your Prince Ki—” He breaks off with a cough.

“Charming,” he finishes, his voice as sharp and cold as a blade.

“Don’t think you know me because you once saw a soft side, Princess.

Even an unflipped calendar is right once every year. ”

“No worries there,” I say with sugary sweetness.

“You aren’t something I hope for, charming or not.

” It’s true, I tell myself. Even if it didn’t used to be.

Before, he’d been a fantasy. Now, I know the man.

There are soft spots, sure. But those are there only to camouflage the spinning blades beneath. So, no. I don’t want him.

Except maybe a teensy little bit. When he’s not being an ass.

Which is a very, very, very small window.

“I overheard you and Leo last night,” I blurt. “About how you’re just using me to piss off my father.”

His eyes seem to widen, but they settle back so quickly into his typical, unreadable visage that I wonder if my mind is playing tricks.

“Did you?”

I wait, but he says nothing else. “You bastard,” I snap. “You keep me locked in here. You take my clothes?—”

“ Clean your clothes,” he says, and there’s ice lurking under his mild tone.

“They’ll be back soon. And in case you’ve forgotten, Princess, we had an agreement.

Everything , remember? And we’ve barely scratched the surface.

Or did you think that after a day of being around you, I’d morph into Prince Charming, all gallant and respectful?

That’s not who I am, and I’ve known that my whole damn life.

So I’d advise you not to rewrite history.

And to remember the terms of our agreement. ”

“I can hardly forget,” I snap. “You remind me of it every five seconds. And being locked in here without clothes kind of puts a button on the point.” I cross my arms and scowl at him. He’s right. He’s no prince.

Or if he is, it’s a dark one. He kidnapped the princess, after all.

He stands and steps toward me. I grip the sheet tighter. “About that twerp in the market,” he begins, his voice low and steady, as if he’s holding tight to control. “He wasn’t your savior or your prince. He was just a guy, but he was strong.”

His eyes are the ocean—cold and deep.

“He was strong enough to survive growing up with Elias Grimm. Strong enough to survive without a mother, stuck instead with an evil stepmother. Strong enough to make it in a goddamn world that kept throwing things at him. A world where he had no allies at all except a fuck-up of a younger brother.”

I watch, my heart twisting as he spews the words at me. As if they’re something vile he’s been holding back for years.

“He built his own life, and he takes what he needs. Be it information or sex or a pretty little princess he can use for revenge.”

I hold my breath as he grabs the sheet and rips it back, leaving me naked and trembling, and inexplicably, undeniably turned on.

He leans close, then puts his hand on my breast, my nipple trapped between his thumb and forefinger as I try to remember how to breathe.

“You think I’m kind and good because I helped you find your way out of a farmer’s market?

I was a kid, too. It was nothing. And last night?

Tracking you down on the street, and sweeping you back here before your father’s goons could find you?

That wasn’t about you, Princess. That was about leverage.

But now? Well, right now, I want to fuck you.

And you don’t get a say, Princess. That’s how good a man your little market boy grew up to be. ”

My heart pounds as I look into those cold eyes and try desperately to catch my breath.

“So hit me with those fists or tell me I’m an asshole or try to keep those pretty thighs squeezed shut. It won’t matter. You’re mine, Sasha. Paid and delivered. And I will have what’s mine.”