Page 99 of The Tower

“We’ll see.” His smile is triumphant now. “The guardianship hearing is coming up fast. Once your father regains control, you’ll find yourself with significantly fewer options.”

The cake turns to ash in my mouth. Even if he can’t legally force me to marry Desmond, my father could make my life unbearable until I comply.

“Your father and I are very like-minded when it comes to managing … difficult situations,” Desmond continues. “I’ve had the south wing of my estate redecorated for you. Soundproofed, of course. For privacy.” He leans closer, dropping his voice. “I know how easily startled you can be. All those … delicate nerves.”

My stomach twists. I know what he means—no one would hear me scream.

“There you are.”

Grimm’s voice cuts through my rising panic as he materializes at my side, two champagne flutes in hand. His tone is casual, but I can feel the tension radiating from him as he assesses the situation.

“Liam Grimm. I wondered which brother would be playing white knight tonight.” His smile widens, showing too many teeth. “Though I must say, the bastard son seems an … unusual choice.”

“Better a bastard than a butcher,” Liam replies, his voice soft but razor-sharp.

Desmond chuckles, a sound utterly devoid of humor. “Such melodrama. And here I thought the Grimms were known for their business acumen, not their theatrics.” He turns to me, ignoring Grimm completely. “It’s interesting to see the company you’re keeping these days, Sasha. Your father will be … fascinated.”

“Is there something you wanted, Bane?” Grimm asks, handing me one of the champagne flutes before sliding his arm around my waist. “Other than to make uncomfortable small talk with my date?”

“Date?” Desmond’s eyebrows rise. “Is that what this is? Interesting. Tell me, is she simply a convenient weapon against Victor, or is there more to it?” His gaze slides to me, then back to Liam. “She is exquisite, I’ll grant you that. Though perhaps a bit … fragile for your tastes.”

“Unlike your previous wives?” Liam’s voice is casual, but the threat underneath is unmistakable.

For just a moment, Desmond’s mask slips. Something vicious and ugly flashes across his face before the polished veneer snaps back into place. “Careful, Grimm. Accidents happen so easily. Especially to those already prone to mishaps.”

He turns to me, taking my hand before I can pull away. His fingers are cool and dry, his grip just tight enough to be uncomfortable.

“I’ll see you at the hearing, Sasha.” He brings my hand to his lips, and it takes everything in me not to recoil. “Do try to look your best. You know how I appreciate … presentation.”

As he walks away, mingling effortlessly back into the crowd, my knees weaken, and the fear I’ve been holding in crashes over me in waves.

“He can’t—” I start, my voice shaking. “My father can’t⁠—”

Liam’s arm tightens around my waist, steadying me. “He won’t,” he says, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “I promise you, Sasha. That will never happen.”

I look up at him, searching his face for reassurance. What I see there isn’t just determination but genuine anger—not the cold calculation of someone using me as a pawn, but the protective rage of someone who genuinely cares.

“Drink,” he says, nodding toward the champagne in my hand. “And breathe. Don’t let him see that he got to you.”

I take a sip, then a deeper breath, forcing myself to regain composure. Across the terrace, I see Desmond standing beside Alexander Grimm, both of them watching us with calculated interest. Desmond raises his glass in a mock toast, that predatory smile never leaving his face.

“I need to get some air,” I say, turning toward the less crowded side of the terrace.

“This entire event is outside,” Grimm says, but his expression softens as he follows my gaze back to where Desmond stands. “But I know what you mean. Come on.”

He leads me away from the main crowd toward a quieter corner with a cluster of chairs and a plush couch. He sits, pulling me down beside him. He puts an arm around my shoulder, and I lean in, welcoming the comfort he’s offering.

“He’s a monster.”

Liam’s hand finds mine, his fingers warm and strong as they intertwine with my own. “Good. That means he can be defeated.”

I turn to face him, suddenly desperate to believe in something—in someone—who can keep the darkness at bay. “How can you be so sure?”

His eyes meet mine, steady and certain. “Because this time the princess isn’t facing the dragon alone.”

My smile falls somewhere between giddy and shy as I whisper, “Thanks, Grimm.”

He tilts his head, studying me with an intensity that makes me feel as if he can see straight through to my core. “You know, you could call me Liam.”