Page 134 of The Tower

I push the thought away, unwilling to give him that absolution. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

True to his word, Liam is there the next morning when I emerge from my bedroom. And the morning after that. Each day, he sits in the same chair, waiting patiently for me to acknowledge him, to listen, to give him a chance to explain.

Each day, I send him away.

On the fifth day, I find myself exploding with frustration. “Don’t you have a company to run? A life to lead? Something better to do than sit in my living room every morning?”

He looks up from the book he’s been reading, his expression calm despite the dark circles under his eyes. “No.”

The simple answer deflates my anger, leaving me uncertain how to respond. Each day, he looks more exhausted, as if he’s not sleeping, not eating properly. Part of me—the vengeful part—is glad to see him suffer. But another part worries, despite everything.

“This is ridiculous,” I mutter, turning away.

“Maybe,” he agrees. “But I meant what I said. I’ll be here every day, for as long as it takes.”

“And if it takes forever?”

His eyes meet mine, steady and sure. “Then I’ll be here forever.”

The declaration should sound melodramatic. Absurd. Instead, it rings with a quiet certainty that makes my heart ache. This man, who manipulated and deceived me, who broke into my most private sanctuary, is also the man who stood beside me against my father, who showed me what freedom could feel like, who looked at me and saw something more than a pretty face on a billboard or a woman broken by tragedy and the sins of her father.

I turn away, unwilling to let him see the conflict in my eyes. “I’m going out with Ruby today.”

“Tell her I said hello,” he says simply, returning to his book.

The exchange leaves me unsettled for reasons I can’t quite articulate. There’s something about his patient persistence, his willingness to be humbled day after day, that feels more genuine than any flowery apology or dramatic gesture ever could.

Twenty minutes later I’m sitting at a café with Ruby nursing a cup of coffee. “Gotta give him points for persistence,” I admit. “Most men would have given up by now.”

She studies me over the rim of her coffee cup. “No way? Today, too?”

I nod.

“Why hasn’t security been upgraded? Chains added to your door? I’d think that Archie would be all over that,” she adds, referring to the head of security for all of Reed Tower.

I mumble a reply, then sip coffee.

“Sorry. I didn’t quite get that.”

I scowl, but answer. “I haven’t told Archie.”

“Uh-huh. Shall we discuss the works of Freud? I think someone’s got some desires she doesn’t want to acknowledge.”

“Oh, please. It’s infuriating. I just don’t want to bother Archie. He’s got more than enough on his plate.”

She tilts her head, studying me. “I think you’re impressed by his persistence.”

I scowl at her, hating how well she knows me. “That’s not the point.”

She laughs. “Actually, I think you’re a little turned on by it.”

I ignore that part. It hits a little too close to home. “The point is⁠—”

“The point is,” she begins, talking right over me, “that he fucked up royally. He did something unforgivable by invading the one space that was truly yours.” She leans forward, her expression earnest. “But Sasha, he also owned it. He didn’t make excuses or try to justify it. He’s just … there. Showing up. Proving he means what he says.”

“Since when are you on Team Liam?” I demand. “I thought you hated the Grimms.”