Page 101 of The Tower

Dethroned

Liam guided Sasha through the crowd of Manhattan’s elite, his hand at the small of her back as he carefully maintained the precise balance of protective and possessive that the cameras would expect. Every moment was calculated—from the way his fingers brushed against the fabric of her dress to the casual intimacy of leaning in to whisper in her ear.

Just one glance at his phone half an hour ago had confirmed that Sasha, Liam, Liam-And-Sasha-the-Couple, and Sasha-the-Potential-Ward were trending across every social media platform in use anywhere on the globe.

They’d been photographed mingling, smiling, laughing. And in every image and video that Liam found, Sasha had played her part perfectly, handling the small talk and scrutiny with a poise that surprised even him. She looked exactly like what she was—a stable, confident woman able to take care of herself. A woman who absolutely did not need a guardian.

And damned if they weren’t going to establish that and more in court.

The Grimm family’s annual fundraiser had provided the ideal backdrop—high profile enough to generate the publicity they needed, yet controlled enough that Reed’s men couldn’t easily infiltrate. And the presence of Sasha at the party despite the scandal and curiosity swirling around her had the added benefit of reducing the number of queries as to Elias Grimm’s whereabouts.

The usual answer? Unavoidably called away on business.

The real answer? Elias Grimm was out of commission, deep in a coma from which no one expected him to recover. And the only thing wrong with that picture as far as Liam was concerned was that his father was warm and comfortable in a medically high-tech room instead of burning in hell where he belonged.

He checked his watch, noting they’d been mingling for nearly two hours. “We’ve been seen enough,” he murmured against her ear, allowing his lips to linger a fraction longer than necessary. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Her eyes met his, curiosity mingling with wariness. She’d learned to be cautious around him—a fact that both pleased and troubled him in ways he chose not to examine too closely.

“All right. What?”

“Not here.” He nodded toward a service door partially concealed behind an elaborate floral arrangement.

The security guard stationed there was on his payroll, not Alexander’s—a distinction that had proven useful more than once. The man stepped aside without a word, and Liam ushered Sasha through the door, down one flight of stairs, and then into the service corridor beyond.

The transition was jarring—from crystal chandeliers and champagne to the stark industrial look of concrete floors and fluorescent lighting.

“Where are we going?” Her voice echoed slightly in the narrow space.

Liam didn’t answer immediately, leading her instead toward the service elevator at the end of the corridor. He’d been debating this decision all evening, weighing the risk against the potential value. But in the end, he knew it was important.

Perhaps it was about trust—giving her something real after so many manipulations. Or perhaps it was simpler than that. Perhaps he just wanted someone to witness the truth he and his half-brothers had carried alone for too long.

The service elevator was industrial and stark, without the polish of the main elevators. Liam swiped his key card and entered a code, deliberately positioning himself so Sasha couldn’t see the sequence.

Old habits.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said as the doors closed. There was a new edge to her voice, a flash of steel that hadn’t been there when he’d first brought her to his loft. The drugs were clearing from her system, and with them, the artificial fog that had dampened her natural spirit.

“We’re going to see my father,” he said simply.

Her sharp intake of breath was audible in the confined space. “Elias?”

“The one and only.”

The elevator began its descent, and Liam watched her process this information. Her expressions were becoming easier to read—or perhaps he was simply paying closer attention than he once had.

“Why ?” she asked.

A fair question, one he wasn’t entirely sure he could answer. “The opportunity presented itself. With everyone at the event, we can move through the tower unnoticed.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. The perfect conditions for a man accustomed to operating in gray areas.

The elevator stopped at the fortieth floor, and Liam led her into a corridor that looked nothing like the residential floors above. The medical floors were sterile and institutional, with the antiseptic smell that seemed universal to all healthcare facilities, regardless of how expensive.

“The family medical floor,” he explained, noting her curious glance. “After Gabriel died in the fire, my father became obsessed with mortality—not in a philosophical sense, but with the fervor of a man determined to cheat it.” He shrugged. “So he installed the three medical floors for both family care and research.”

“What happened to Gabriel?” Sasha asked. “I remember hearing about a fire, but not the details.”