Page 146 of The Tower

“I need time,” I finally say. “Will you give me that?”

“It’s not mine to give. Take the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

As he turns to leave, I find myself speaking before I’ve fully formed the thought. “Grimm.”

He pauses, hope flickering briefly in his eyes.

“Thank you,” I say. “For telling the truth. For not trying to justify what you did.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “I’m learning,” he says. “Slowly, maybe. But learning.”

Forty-Four

Surrender

Liam watched her from across the café table, cataloging every micro-expression that crossed her face. The slight tension around her eyes had eased over the past weeks, the wariness in her gaze less pronounced each time they met. She was still guarded—he’d earned that—but the wall between them was crumbling, brick by painful brick.

The weeks following Victor’s death had been the darkest of his life. Not from guilt—he’d never regret eliminating that bastard—but from the cold emptiness of her absence. He’d become accustomed to her presence, her warmth, her sharp intelligence cutting through his defenses.

Without her, the Connecticut house felt like a mausoleum, echoing with ghosts of what might have been.

“The rebranding is going well,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. A nervous gesture, one she wasn’t aware of making. “The board has finally approved the name change to Lydia Cosmetics.”

“Your mother would be proud.” So was he. She was so much stronger than she knew. A woman who’d suffered no end of abuse and had essentially raised herself. A daughter determined to honor her mother’s legacy, refusing to be defined by her father’s shadow.

Her eyes lit briefly, and the flash of pleasure at his words was like a physical blow to his chest. He’d become addicted to her rare, genuine smiles, hoarding them like precious gems in the vault of his memory.

“There’s still resistance to some of the changes I want to implement,” she continued, then outlined her vision—diverse models, ethical sourcing, and technologies that would revolutionize the industry. Her hands animated her words, her passion evident in every syllable.

Liam absorbed every detail, not just her plans but the way her whole face brightened when she spoke of the future, the curve of her throat as she leaned forward, the pulse beating steadily at her temple. He’d always been observant, but with Sasha, the observation became reverence.

Their meetings grew more frequent as the weeks passed. Coffee evolved into lunch, lunch into dinner, and dinner into long walks through Central Park as twilight settled over the city. Never touching, always with that careful distance maintained between them, a boundary he wouldn’t cross without explicit invitation. No matter how much he wanted to.

It was a strange purgatory for a man accustomed to taking what he wanted. Waiting. Hoping.

Liam Grimm, brought to his knees by the mere possibility of her forgiveness.

“I miss you,” he admitted one evening as they stood watching the sunset paint the skyline in crimson and gold. Three simple words that cost him more than million-dollar deals or security empires ever had.

She turned to him, her face cast in light and shadow. “I miss you, too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m still …”

“I know.” He cut her off, sparing her the need to articulate what they both understood. “We have time.”

Something softened in her expression, a surrender so subtle most would have missed it. But he’d made a study of her face, knew every micro-expression, every fleeting emotion. She was beginning to trust him again.

He hoped she’d decide that he’d earned it.

He knew he’d move heaven and earth to deserve it.

That night, he dreamed of her in the Connecticut house. She stood on the terrace, morning light turning her hair to molten gold. When she turned to him, her smile held no reservations, no shadows. Just Sasha, fully present, fully his.

He woke with her name on his lips and a decision crystallized in his mind. Before he could second-guess himself, he texted her. Simple. Direct. Come back to Connecticut with me this weekend?

Her response came faster than he’d dared hope: Yes.

As far as Liam was concerned, the weekend couldn’t get there soon enough.

The next day, she asked him to meet her in her suite at Reed Tower. As the elevator ascended, he remembered the photo shoot on the roof of this building, a day that had set so many wheels in motion. Then, she’d been his bludgeon to use against Victor.