Page 138 of The Tower

“Reed Cosmetics?”

I nod. “I can’t keep avoiding my responsibilities. My mother’s legacy deserves better than that.”

His arms tighten around me. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

“I know,” I say, snuggling close.

We lay in silence for a while, my finger tracing patterns on his chest as I let my mind wander. Minutes pass, maybe hours, and somewhere in there we begin to talk. The garden at the Connecticut house, plans to monetize Elysium, trips we want to take together, the future of Reed Cosmetics.

“I think I want to rebrand in a way that honors my mother.”

“Lydia Cosmetics?” he suggests.

“Maybe. But maybe something even bigger than a name change. I don’t know.” I trace patterns on his chest, thinking. “And, of course, I still want to market Elysium.”

“You’ll be a busy woman.” He nips my ear. “It’s very sexy.”

I laugh. “There’s a way to motivate me to get busy. You’ll help me?”

He strokes my hair, smiling in a way that tells me he likes it short just as much. “I will always help you.”

I smile as we slide into an easy back and forth. There’s still a wound from his betrayal, but it’s overshadowed by the potential of what we might build together.

Eventually, conversation gives way to comfortable silence, and then to sleep, and for the first time since leaving Connecticut, I know I’ll sleep soundly, his presence more powerful than the ghosts of the past that haunt Reed Tower.

Forty-Two

Broken

I wake to the sensation of fingers gently combing through my hair. Liam is propped on one elbow, watching me with an expression that makes my breath catch—tender, possessive, utterly unguarded.

“Creepy,” I murmur, smiling to soften the word. “Watching me sleep.”

A shadow crosses his face, and I remember how I’d gone off on him last night about watching me in Elysium.

I grimace. “Sorry. That’s meant to be joke. Apparently, a bad one.”

The tension eases from his expression. “We’re going to need to work on your comedic timing,” he says, pressing a kiss to my palm.

“Among other things,” I agree. “Starting with breakfast. I’m starving.”

He chuckles. “That, I can definitely help with.”

As he rises from the bed, unabashedly naked and magnificent in the morning light, his phone chimes from the pocket of his discarded pants. He retrieves it, glances at the screen, and his entire demeanor changes in an instant—shoulders tensing, jaw tightening, the relaxed lover replaced by the strategic warrior.

“What is it?”

He frowns, and I’m certain he’s debating whether to share whatever news he’s received.

A chill cuts through me. “Dammit, Grimm. You promised. No more lies. No more secrets.”

“I know.” He sighs, then sits on the edge of the bed, the phone still in his hand. “Leo just texted. Your father is back in New York.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. Victor. Back. After weeks of searching, of warrants and investigations, he’s resurfaced—deliberately, no doubt. My father never does anything without calculation.

“How does Leo know?” I manage, my voice steadier than I expected.

“Sources in the NYPD.”