Page 88 of The Tower

I push aside that unsettling revelation and force a smile as I indicate the sweater. “This was okay, right? I’m sadly lacking in wardrobe …”

“It’s fine,” he assures me. “Just noting how nice it looks on you.”

“Oh,” I say, my cheeks warming from the compliment as if I were fourteen. Though considering my lack of dating experience, I kind of am. “Thanks. So, um, you’re really sure Maya won’t mind?”

“Hmm?” He glances up from the containers he’s opening. “No. I’m sure it’s no problem.”

I’d hoped my question would spark more revelations about the mysterious Maya, but all he does is indicate the spread of food. “I hope you like Lebanese. This place does incredible shawarma.”

“I’ve never had it,” I admit, coming closer from where I was hovering at the edge of the kitchen. “But it smells amazing.”

I glance around, trying to work up the courage to ask about Maya—who presumably is the Neruda recipient. But the courage never comes. And why should I care, anyway? Grimm and I are helping each other, and that arrangement has a bit of a FWB component. That’s all. And once my father is behind bars, where he belongs, the benefits will end along with the friendship, and I’ll probably never even see Grimm again.

The thought disturbs me more than it should, especially since this is the first time I’ve thought of him as a friend and not, oh, a ridiculously sexy devil incarnate. It’s a bit disconcerting.

It’s also true.

“—joy.”

I glance up at him, realizing I’ve zoned out. “Sorry. What?”

He gestures to one of the stools at the counter. “I said, no time like the present. Sit. Eat. Enjoy”

It might be my imagination, but I think his eyes flick to the sweater again. I keep my eyes on his as I run my hand along the sweater’s sleeve. “So, um, Maya? Roommate? Girlfriend? None of the above?”

“Ex,” he says, ripping a pita bread in half.

“And she left drawers full of things behind?” Even I can hear the jealousy oozing through my voice, and I want to both kick myself and call back the words. Since I can’t, I shovel more shawarma into my mouth. It really is delicious.

“Let’s table the discussion about Maya’s things. I met with the attorneys. We have more important things to talk about.”

I nod, but I’m picturing Maya. Maya. That’s a name for someone tall and dark, elegantly beautiful. Someone who’s never been dressed up like Cinderella or forced to wear too much rouge on her cheeks for a Times Square billboard.

“—for the hearing.”

I snap back to reality. “What?”

His eyes narrow, and I’m certain he knows where my mind had gone.

“I said I met with the attorneys about hearing prep. We should go over it. We’ll be in court in just a few days.”

“You should have taken me with you,” I say, stabbing a piece of meat with more force than necessary.

Grimm leans back as he studies me, his eyes cool and assessing. “Is something bothering you?”

“No. Yes. I don’t appreciate being treated like a child who can’t participate in discussions about her own life.”

He has the look of a man negotiating a minefield. “Jack called while I was out,” he says, referring to Jack Granger, the lead attorney. “I was mid-town, only a few blocks away, and considering our deal, I didn’t think you would want to go.” His voice is steady and soothing, and I’m starting to feel like an idiot.

“I thought protecting you from your father included protecting you from having to get down and dirty in the litigation. If I was wrong, I’m sorry.” His voice is perfectly level, as if he’s talking down a wild animal.

I realize that I’m absently fingering the sleeve of the sweater while thinking about Neruda’s sensual verses. I pull my hand away, irritated with myself.

I am not falling for this man. There’s nothing between us except sex and a power play. Nothing.

Except maybe there is.

“Sasha?”