Page 19 of The Tower

Unsettled, I turn toward the side window, as if another view might somehow increase the distance between us. “Where are we going?” I ask again, but I get only silence in response. I want to shout the question, but why waste my breath? When I fled with no plan and no resources, I’d placed myself at the mercy of the devil himself.

My hands shake with what can only be nerves. All things considered, it’s possible I was too hasty.

Then again, between the devil and Desmond Bane, I’ll take the devil. Especially if he can protect me from my father.

I close my eyes, letting myself drift as the events of this very crazy day settle in my mind. I’d assumed he would take me to Grimm Tower, but we’ve been driving in the wrong direction for at least half an hour. I’m sure he expects me to beg him to tell me where we’re going—and I do desperately want to know. Just not enough to give him the satisfaction of asking.

Then again, as far as tonight’s events are concerned, I think Grimm wins any competition that might exist between us. But I don’t care. All I care about is that he’s taking me away from my father and Desmond. And despite my doubts and fears, I’m more than happy to simply sit here and bask in that lovely new reality.

I only realize I must have dozed off when he brakes hard, and my eyes fly open, my heart pounding. I see a dog racing off into the dark and Grimm gripping the steering wheel like a vise. “Sorry. It bolted right out in front of me.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” I say, oddly reassured that he didn’t hit the dog. Considering what I know of his family, I wouldn’t expect any of that clan to go out of their way to avoid a toddler, much less an animal.

I shift to look in the direction the dog bolted and find myself staring at Grimm Tower, its dark presence both threatening and compelling.

Whereas Reed Tower has an Art Deco vibe—sleek lines, geometric patterns, and gleaming metal—Grimm Tower is Gothic, with towering spires, shadowed archways, and carved stone gargoyles.

Both sit on the Central Park perimeter, with my father’s lair dominating the east and Grimm Tower looming over the west side near Columbus Circle.

“One of the first skyscrapers in Manhattan,” Liam says, and I recall that Grimm Tower was built about a decade before my family’s home. “My great-grandfather commissioned it when the family publishing business expanded.”

“It’s beautiful.” I don’t begrudge the Grimm family the admission. There’s an elegance to Grimm Tower that has always drawn me in. I’ve even battled my own fears and curled up in the window seat on the west side of my suite for the pleasure of admiring the way the sun gleams off the copper-green of the spires.

I shift to look at Grimm more directly. “We could have walked here from The Pershing in less than twenty minutes. Why on earth have we been driving around for an hour just to end up—oh.” It’s like a cartoon lightbulb brightens above my head. “If they were following, you wanted to lose them.”

“And I wanted them to see me heading out of the city. I have property in Connecticut. Let them try and get past that security.”

He looks so amused by the idea that I almost laugh, my humor bolstered by another cartoon image. This one of my father electrified on a protective fence like some vile version of Wile E. Coyote.

“Something funny?” he asks, but I just shake my head and bite back a tiny smile, feeling more relaxed than I have all evening.

That feeling of comfort lingers only for a few more minutes. That’s when Grimm turns off the road and navigates the car into the Tower’s underground garage. He doesn’t slow as he expertly steers the Aston Martin down the winding driveway to the lowest level—one with a second gate, more cameras, and who knows what other security measures.

Clearly, this is the area where the family parks.

“Do you live here?” I ask as we head for the elevator.

“When it suits me,” he says, in a tone that makes clear I won’t be getting more specifics.

Like the penthouse level at home, this elevator requires both a key card and a fingerprint scan. Unlike Reed Tower, it also requires an optical scan. The technology is sleek, expensive, and speaks of serious security concerns.

I don’t know why I’m surprised. I’ve known for years that many of the Grimm family ventures aren’t exactly squeaky clean. Seeing this level of security, I’m thinking those mysterious ventures are positively caked in mud.

I don’t look at Grimm as the elevator sweeps us up into the sky. He’s my savior, yes. But I’m savvy enough to understand that he’s my captor, too. For all intents and purposes, he now owns me.

Everything.

The word echoes in my mind, both ominous and enticing in a way I don’t want to think about. But I still don’t know what he means by that. Does he want sex? Information? Or does he have some darker plan to hurt my father, and I’m nothing more than a pawn he’s willing to destroy?

I shudder, my hands shaking. What the hell have I done?

When the doors slide open onto the fifty-seventh-floor apartment’s opulent entryway, I can’t seem to move. He’s been standing behind me, but now steps around and faces me. He extends a hand.

I don’t take it.

“It’s okay, Sasha,” he says in a voice designed to coax a kitten. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

I believe him. I do. And yet …