Page 11 of The Tower

Because in the real world, it’s Liam Grimm who has slipped into my fantasies, and that can’t be right. Because other than my father, he is the man I hate most of all.

“Dammit!” I cry again as I slam the top down on my computer. What the hell is wrong with me?

The answer comes in my father’s voice: You’re a beautiful, broken, sick little girl who men will try to take advantage of. Who needs her father to watch over her. Who needs a strong, guiding hand. Trust your daddy, Princess. I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you safe from the dark things in the world.

Except he won’t. My father is the dark thing, and I’m trapped here with him, where no one can hear me scream.

Four

The Gala

The Beautify Manhattan Gala is held at the Pershing, a stunning hotel with marble floors and gilded everything. Major players in the industry circle each other like wolves in designer clothing, all pretending to like each other while jockeying for position.

My father guides me through the room, his hand resting possessively on my lower back. “Showtime, darling,” he murmurs.

I want to break away from his touch, but I know the kind of punishment that awaits me if I’m anything other than the perfect cosmetics princess tonight. Slightly aloof and pristinely elegant. A walking aspiration rather than a real woman.

Too bad for me, I’m as real as they come, complete with fears that are determined to set me up to fail as the space both stretches and contracts around me. The room is too open, too exposed, and all of my breath seems determined to escape, leaving me weak and helpless on my father’s arm. Which is the last place I want to be.

No.

I force in a breath, then slowly release it, all the while regretting not taking my meds again today. What I’d intended as an act of defiance against my father was really me sabotaging myself.

Stop it. This is just a party. Just one more event for Father to show me off. Nothing new here. Nothing I haven’t done a million times over.

“Sasha?”

I hear the edge in his voice, and I’m certain he knows I’m spiraling.

But I’m not. I can’t. I won’t.

Not because of the punishment he’d surely render, but because I refuse to embarrass myself that way.

With more effort than it took to get into this damn dress, I lift my face and smile at him. “Lightheaded,” I say. “I should have had a bite before we left home.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to call me on the lie. Then he lifts his hand, signaling a waiter who comes over with a tray of small crystal plates topped with fruit and cheese.

I’m not hungry, but I thank both the waiter and my father. And, of course, I eat the fruit, using the tiny fork as my father continues to parade me through the room, showing me off to anyone looking in our direction.

Once I’ve finished the snack, Father steers us toward Desmond Bane, standing among a cluster of men, all in tuxedos. He’s talking to Leo Grimm, the youngest of the five brothers. And, possibly, an even bigger asshole than Liam Grimm. He’s got a lanky build and a relaxed manner, but that’s just the exterior of a cold, calculating, and dangerous man. I should know—I was the one who held Ruby’s hand when he so brutally betrayed her six years ago.

I glance around, wondering if the rest of the brothers are on site, but I don’t see them. Good. I’ve had more than enough of the Brothers Grimm lately.

My relief fades when Desmond sees us. He smiles as he stalks toward me, slow and proprietary. I shiver, suddenly feeling as if he’s the hunter and I’m his prey.

“Sasha,” he says, taking my hand and pressing his lips to it. His mouth is hot and damp against my skin, and when he releases my hand, I have to fight the urge to wipe it clean against the folds of my dress.

“It’s so good to see you,” I say, forcing a smile.

“You as well. You look exquisite as always.” His eyes graze over me with such a proprietary leer I actually shudder.

I conjure my most party-ready smile. “Please excuse me. I’m sure you two have business to discuss, and I should mingle.”

My father’s expression tightens, but he can hardly make a scene.

The further away I move, the easier it is to breathe, and by the time I’ve weaved through the clusters of Manhattan’s elite and spotted Ruby, I feel like myself again. She’s serving champagne when she sees me, then nods toward one of the balconies.

I reach it before she does, finding it mercifully empty. Despite the height, I feel less anxious out here than inside. The openness of the night sky is somehow less threatening than the ballroom with Desmond’s watching eyes.