Page 18 of The Tower

I hesitate, then shake my head. “None.”

“Good. Because there’s no turning back now.” The elevator doors open onto a dimly lit parking garage. “Once your father realizes you’ve left with me, he’ll come after you with everything he has.”

The statement should terrify me. Instead, it somehow steadies my resolve. “I know.”

Grimm leads me to a sleek black Aston Martin tucked into a far corner of the garage. He opens the passenger door, gesturing for me to get in.

I hesitate for just a moment, aware that I’m stepping into the unknown. Then I slide onto the leather seat, my ridiculous white gown billowing around me like a deflating balloon.

As Grimm walks around to the driver’s side, I stare at the enormous diamond still on my finger. This foul thing represents everything I’m rejecting—my father’s control, Desmond’s ownership, a life mapped out and paid for without my consent.

Grimm slides in and starts the car. Without thinking, I roll down the window and toss the ring into the darkness of the garage. It makes a tiny, satisfying sound as it bounces across the concrete.

Grimm raises an eyebrow. “That was at least twenty carats.”

“It was a shackle.”

He studies me for a moment, then nods once, something like respect flashing in his eyes.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Somewhere your father can’t reach you.”

A chill curls through me. I’ve crossed the line. There’s no coming back.

And Liam Grimm, with his dangerous eyes and dark bargain, is my only way forward into the blackness ahead.

Six

Devil’s Bargain

As Grimm expertly maneuvers through the dense Manhattan traffic, I sit rigidly in the passenger seat, trying to ignore the way the oncoming headlights sting my eyes. I look down, keeping the layers of my dress wrapped around me like a security blanket as I try not to think about the enormity of what I’ve done. What Father will do if he finds me. When he finds me.

He’ll kill me.

Except he won’t. I’ll be punished, yes. Locked up. My privileges ripped away. No more painting or sketching. No more time on a computer.

No more Elysium.

Death would be more kind.

Oh, god, what have I done?

“You’re very quiet,” Grimm says, interrupting my mental spin-out. “Having regrets or basking in your victory?”

“No regrets,” I say, the words true despite my fears. “But no victory, either.”

“No?” He turns and rakes his eyes over me, the slow, heated gaze leaving me more than a little unsettled. Like my father, Liam Grimm radiates power and control. But where my father’s control feels suffocating, Grimm’s feels … magnetic.

And that’s what makes him dangerous.

I lift my chin. “I’ll claim victory when I’m free. But I’m not, am I?”

“No. You’re not.”

Everything.

A shiver runs up my spine, but I’m not cold. On the contrary, I feel an unwelcome heat spreading through me as I think about that one and only condition for his help. A condition that teases uncomfortably close to fantasies I don’t want to admit.