Page 42 of The Tower (Billionaire Brothers Grimm #1)

Our eyes meet, and I can’t help but grin. Then I sigh as he shifts his hand at my back so that now his fingertip strokes my skin, a sensual reminder of what I can have whenever I want.

Even now, my body craves his—the weight of him, the heat, the way he moved inside me. How he watched me come apart with those ice-blue eyes that somehow burned straight through me.

He leans close, his mouth at my ear. “All you have to do is beg.”

“You,” I say, “are a very cruel man.” I turn to grin at him, struck breathless once again by the fact that a man as gorgeous as Liam Grimm is allowed to exist in this world, because surely he shames all the mortals.

With a sigh of deep pleasure, I let my eyes roam over the sharp lines of his tuxedo, struck by the way the formal attire somehow makes him look more dangerous rather than tamed in a drawing room way.

His masculine beauty is almost painful—all angles and intensity.

Nothing about this man is soft, except perhaps the curve of his lower lip.

The same lip I’ve bitten in the heat of passion, and the memory of the way he’d growled, low and sensual and claiming—makes me want to drop to my knees right now.

“Something on your mind?” A grin tugs at his mouth—and that very biteable lip.

“Nope,” I say, all sunshine and innocence.

It occurs to me that if I get him riled up enough, I may be able to circumvent that begging edict. At the very least, the attempt could be fun. And if I succeed, the reward would be very much worth it.

I step closer, pressing my body against his, my hands cupping his ass despite the fact that the invited press is undoubtedly eating this up. “And you?” I ask. “Is something on your mind?”

“So many things,” he says, bending to whisper in my ear.

“Tell me.”

He pulls back enough so that I can look into those incredible eyes. Then, with deliberate slowness, he says, “Cake.”

I blink, completely confused. “Cake?’

He steps back, breaking my connection with his ass, but taking my hand.

“I see cake.” He nods toward a dessert table laden with architectural confections that seem too beautiful to eat—multi-tiered masterpieces crafted by pastry chefs flown in from Paris, adorned with edible gold leaf and sugar flowers so realistic they seem to bloom under the starlight.

“You mentioned you were rarely allowed sweets.”

He’d been leading me that direction, but now I pull him to a stop. “You remembered.”

“Of course,” he says, completely nonchalant.

I smile, touched that he’d think of that. “Models don’t eat cake. That rule was practically tattooed on my forehead growing up.”

“You’re not just a model anymore,” he says as we continue toward the table. “You’re a woman making her own choices.”

My own choices. The phrase sends a thrill through me, hot and bright as lightning.

Such a simple concept, and yet so foreign to my experience.

Choice has never been part of my reality—not my clothes, not my career, not even what I put in my body.

Everything decided by my father, packaged and presented as concern for my well-being.

We’re halfway to the dessert table when a familiar voice cuts through the ambient chatter.

“Sasha! There you are!”

Ruby’s arms are around me before I can respond, her embrace fierce and familiar.

She pulls back, her eyes traveling over me as if checking for visible damage.

She glances at Grimm, then narrows her eyes.

“You know I’m like a sister to her,” she says to him, indicating her dress—which is actually mine.

“You can tell because I have access to her closet. So if you pull any a-hole sort of tricks, I will make sure you regret it.”

I see the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes, but otherwise, Grimm’s face is completely serious. “I’d expect no less from her best friend.”

She looks at me. “He knows that?”

I lift a shoulder. “Somehow, he knows everything.”

“And he’s really not being an ass to you?”

She knows from our Elysium conversations that he’s not, but all I say is, “He’s the poster boy for good manners.”

She scowls, then cocks her head toward where Leo is holding court across the roof. “The same cannot be said for Leo Grimm. So,” she adds, crossing her arms and putting on her Do Not Fuck With Me face, “can you tell your jerk of a little brother to stay away from me?”

A shadow crosses Grimm’s features. “He’s been harassing you?”

Ruby lifts a shoulder. “Let’s go with pestering. But I don’t want to be around that guy. You keep him off me, and I’ll jump on the Rah-Rah Liam cart. And I’ve got pull with this one,” she adds nodding her head toward me.

Liam catches my eye, and I see the amusement in his. Along with a bolus of irritation that I realize is meant for Leo and not Ruby.

“I will,” he says. “You have my word.”

“Oh,” she says, clearly expecting she’d have to put on the hard sell. “Thanks. So, can I borrow her for a bit?”

I catch his eye, and we share a quick grin before Ruby drags me to a quiet corner. Immediately, I pull her into a hug.

The moment she releases me, she nods in Grimm’s direction. “Well?”

I glance around to make sure we can’t be overheard before I give her the full run-down. Most of it she already knows, since I’ve been updating her during our various avatar conversations in Elysium.

“You and Liam Grimm. Who would have thought?”

“Don’t say it like that. We’re not a couple. We’re just …”

“Friends with benefits?”

I shrug. “Maybe.” Though even as I say the word some little part of me screams that no way am I settling for that consolation prize. “And you really mean it—about my father? He’s not blaming you for my escape?”

“Cross my heart,” she says, miming that very thing.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask. “At a Grimm party, of all places?”

“Reconnaissance,” she admits. “Your father has been on the warpath since you bolted. When I heard about this event—and that Alexander Grimm was hosting instead of Elias—I thought I might learn something useful. Granny knows the cook, so I snuck in that way, changed in the kitchen, then slid into the elevator with a group that had already started drinking.”

She shrugs, then sighs. “Not a challenge at all.”

I shake my head, thinking of all the stunts she used to tell me about during her days in undergrad and into her first semester of business school before she quit to be my PA. I’d wanted her to stay in school, but after all that went down, I understood the decision.

She studies me, her expression softening. “You’re doing good? Really?“

“I am. Really.”

And you’re not just blowing smoke up my skirt. Because, you know, mortal enemies and all …”

“No smoke,” I tell her, a bit surprised myself. It’s true, but this is the first time I’ve said it out loud to anyone. “Yeah. It really is good.”

She grins. “You look happy. I haven’t seen that in your eyes for a very long time.”

Happy. I take a step back, caught off guard. Am I happy?

I’ve been so focused on survival, on escape, on bringing my father to justice, that I haven’t stopped to consider something as basic as my own happiness.

But she’s right. Despite the chaos and uncertainty, there’s a lightness in me that I can’t remember feeling before. A sense of possibility that has nothing to do with freedom from my father and everything to do with the Liam.

“It’s complicated,” I say finally. “But, yeah.”

“Just be careful, okay? The Grimms have been at odds with the Reeds since forever. And they always have their own agenda. Always.”

“Liam isn’t like Leo,” I reply, surprised by my own defensiveness.

“Leo’s in a problem class all by himself,” she says. “And don’t worry, I’m taking my own advice and staying far away.”

“Good.” I hesitate, suddenly fascinated with the point of my shoe peeping out from under my dress. “And Liam’s not like the rest of them at all.”

“I think you’re right,” she says, her tone making me look up again. Immediately, I see Grimm striding back through the crowd toward us. “He’s the dangerous one.”

Before I can respond, photographers swarm around a new arrival—Alexander Grimm himself, commanding attention in a way that reminds me of his father. Cold, calculated charisma that seems to vibrate from him like a force field.

“Speaking of dangerous Grimms,” Ruby murmurs. “I should make myself scarce. Your father will have people here, and I’d rather not be seen talking to you.”

We share a quick hug, then she heads off.

I see her pause as she passes Grimm—who is holding two plates with cake, but since I lack any lip-reading skills I don’t have a clue what they’re saying.

Then I see Ruby grin, and moments later Grimm is at my side with two fabulous-looking pieces of chocolate cake.

“I thought you’d like this,” he says, passing me one.

I go a little gooey. It’s only cake, but the fact that he went out of his way to get it for me knowing how long I’ve been deprived of sweets …

No one ever paid such close attention before. No one except Birgit and Ruby. And, of course, my mom when I was a little girl.

I take a bite, then moan as the rich chocolate melts on my tongue. I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself such an indulgence. My father’s voice was always in my head—calories, measurements, image, control.

Tonight, I kick him firmly to the curb.

“Thank you,” I say, genuinely moved. “What did you say to Ruby?” I ask, with a mouthful of heaven.

“That you’re safe with me. And that Leo will leave her alone for the rest of the party or suffer the consequences.”

“Oh.” It’s silly, but tears prick my eyes. Cake and chivalry. Who knew those were my weak spots? “I guess I was wrong all those years. You’re not an asshole at all.”

“Perhaps,” he says, his eyes roaming over me in a way that leaves me tingling. “Or maybe I’m just one hell of an actor.”