Page 7 of The Tower
I hear the hard edge of fury in his voice and have to bite my tongue to keep from shouting that I hate it, too. The ridiculous fluff that makes up the dreams we’re selling.
But I won’t say it. I won’t align myself with this man in any way. Not after what he said. What his family’s done.
I blink, trying to force back tears as I think of my mother. Of the night when Elias Grimm crept up to the roof. The night when I watched helplessly as he sent her tumbling over the edge as my father tried to grab her in time to save her.
But it was no use. She was gone. Down, down, down into the void.
I shiver, then hug myself, trying not to think of the fear she must have felt. I’d been only seven, and my mother had been my world.
The Grimm family had taken her from me.
I force myself to stand straighter, then take a single step toward him. “Your father is a monster,” I say. “Do you think I don’t know what he did? What he took from me?”
His eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think he’s going to simply walk away. Then he lifts his chin, and something savage flashes in those cold, blue eyes. He leans in, close enough that I can feel his breath against my ear. “Careful, Princess. The villain in one tale is often the victim in another.”
A twitch of dread runs up my spine, and I step back. I know only one thing for certain about Liam Grimm—the man is at least as dangerous as Desmond Bane. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, I’m drawn to his flame. “Stay away from me.”
He meets my eyes, and my breath catches. Then he nods, just a single tilt of his head. “As you wish.”
He takes a step away from me, then another. And then, despite my own better judgment, I blurt, “Why are you really here?”
He turns back slowly, and I want to kick myself when I see victory painted all over his face. “To see the girl who haunts my dreams,” he answers, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. “To watch the daughter of the man who destroyed my mother be paraded around like a porcelain doll.”
“Destroyed?” I shake my head. “That never happened. It was your family—”
“Better be careful, Princess,” he says, moving closer, trapping me by nothing more than the force of his presence. “Accusations can be as dangerous as a blade.”
Before I can stop myself, I slap him, the crack of palm against cheek startlingly loud. He catches my wrist before I can pull away, his grip like iron, his eyes blazing.
“That fire,” he murmurs, his thumb pressing against my racing pulse. “That’s not your father in you. That’s all Lydia. And your father extinguished her fire, too.”
“Don’t you dare say my mother’s name.”
“I’ll do or say whatever—”
Ruby appears suddenly, breaking the moment. “They’re waiting,” she says, her voice like ice and her eyes on Grimm.
He releases me slowly. Deliberately. “Enjoy your tower while it lasts, Rapunzel,” he says, then leans forward to whisper in my ear. “Because one way or another, I’m going to tear it down. And you’ll have to decide if you’re falling or flying.”
My skin burns where he touched me, as if I’ve been branded. Walking back to my mark, I can feel his eyes tracking me—a predator assessing his prey.
I take my position at the edge, the vast openness beyond the barrier no longer the most terrifying thing on this rooftop. That distinction now belongs to the savage current flowing between me and the man my father raised me to hate—a current that feels dangerously like desire.
My father positions himself where he can watch both me and Grimm, his scowl deep. Desmond stands beside him, his predatory gaze making me want to scrub my skin raw in a boiling bath.
“Come on people,” Adam calls, his camera already clicking. “We’re wasting the light.”
Immediately, I twirl, flashing my brightest smile. What choice do I have? I’m the princess in this story, after all. The innocent virgin lost in the woods and trapped between two monsters.
There’s no way out. Not for me. Because real fairy tales don’t end with happily ever after. They end with blood and teeth and pain.
And I’m beginning to wonder if I’m the heroine of my own story—or the sacrifice.
Three
The Cage
The princess costume lies crumpled on the Calacatta Gold marble floor, the deflated pink fantasy stark against the opulent gold and gray veins that run through the stone. I’d dropped it there hours ago after Ruby helped me escape its clasps and ties before heading off to check on her grandmother.
