Page 11 of Monsters Wear Crowns (Crowned Monsters Duet #1)

This had to be connected to the breach. To him. To all of it.

Taking a slow breath, I strode through the dark, elegant lobby, my heels clicking against the marble floor.

The air smelled of polished wood and expensive cologne, the kind of place where power lurked beneath the surface, silent but ever-present.

Most ordinary people never stepped foot in a place like this.

The concierge barely glanced at me as I headed straight for the elevators at the back of the room.

I was someone who looked like I belonged.

Stepping inside, I pressed the button for the eighth floor–the top floor.

A small screen blinked to life, prompting a code.

My fingers hesitated over the keypad. I had never seen a code required in an elevator. I pressed the other floors, but no prompt popped up. It was only for the floor I was invited to. I could still turn back. But that wasn’t me. I never backed down from anything.

The panel beeped in acceptance, and the elevator lurched upward.

I inhaled deeply, steadying my thoughts.

My purse sat securely against my hip–the one I always brought to client meetings.

The one that held my blade and a small gun, tucked discreetly inside the lining.

I’d only had to pull it out once before when a touchy billionaire thought his money could buy more than I was willing to offer.

That night, I learned that fear and power were two sides of the same coin.

I’d been around dangerous men before.

I could handle this.

As the elevator climbed higher, a single thought wound itself around my mind, tightening its grip like a vice. Would I be walking into a deal? Or a trap?

The elevator doors slid open with a hushed chime, revealing a dimly lit lounge pulsing with exclusivity.

The scent of aged whiskey, faint cigar smoke, and something subtly spiced filled my senses as I stepped inside.

Plush leather seating framed the walls, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering city below.

The space was decadent, dark, and eerily quiet save for the low murmur of conversation from a few well-dressed men lingering in the shadows.

I noticed several lavishly dressed women engaged in casual conversation on a couch nearby.

I hesitated briefly before walking forward. The card in my hand felt heavier now.

9 PM. Top floor. Code 07083.

At the far end of the room, seated at a sleek black marble bar, was a man with his back to me.

He was alone, his posture effortlessly relaxed.

One hand was wrapped around a crystal tumbler of dark liquor, and several silver rings adorned his fingers.

Even without seeing his face, I felt the energy rolling off him, potent and inescapable.

“You took your time, Adela.”

My pulse spiked. His voice was smooth, edged with amusement, as if he’d known all along that curiosity would drag me here, whether I admitted it or not .

I lifted my chin and strode toward him. “So I assume I came for you?”

A low chuckle. “You did.”

I reached the bar just as he finally turned to face me.

Rafe.

The dim lighting did nothing to dull the sharpness of his features–his jet-black hair was tousled, and his icy blue eyes locked onto mine with the kind of intensity that made my stomach clench.

He was relaxed, completely at ease, but his gaze?

It made me feel like I had walked straight into something I wasn’t prepared for.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the stool beside him.

I didn’t move right away. Instead, I let my gaze flick around the room, noting how the other men had gone eerily silent, their attention drifting toward us in subtle, almost imperceptible ways.

He watched me. I could feel the weight of his scrutiny. “Do I make you nervous?” he asked, tilting his glass slightly to let the liquid swirl inside.

I met his stare evenly. “No.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Liar.”

A challenge.

Slowly, I slid onto the stool beside him, crossing one leg over the other, my dress tightening around my thighs. “You asked me to come. Now tell me why.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough for me to catch the faintest hint of his cologne–dark, smooth, dangerously inviting. “I wanted to see how long you’d resist.”

Heat coiled low in my stomach, but I kept my expression schooled. “You think I came here because I couldn’t resist you?”

His smile deepened, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for a second glass, pouring a measure of whiskey before sliding it toward me. “Drink?”

I scoffed, and didn’t touch it. “Why don’t you stop playing games and get to the point?”

He hummed in approval, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes. “Alright, Adela. Let’s talk about the breach.”

Ice shot through me.

I kept my expression neutral, but he caught it. He saw the flicker of realization, the confirmation that I knew exactly what he was talking about. “It was you,” I murmured, gripping the edge of the bar.

He didn’t confirm. He didn’t need to. Instead, he leaned back, studying me with something between amusement and fascination. “You intrigue me. The way you handled it? Impressive.”

I swallowed hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an immediate answer. But the truth was unsettling. It had excited me–the chase, the unknown, the knowledge that I had drawn the attention of someone formidable. I always enjoyed a good puzzle or challenge.

He smirked as if he already knew the answer. “You’re used to dangerous men, aren’t you?” he mused, running a finger along the rim of his glass. “How many of them have made you feel alive like I did?”

“None.” I said quickly with venom. I exhaled slowly, fighting against the pull he had on me. “I don’t scare easily, Rafe.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice dropping lower. “But you do crave something more, don’t you?”

The air between us thickened, charged with something that was no longer just verbal sparring. It was raw. He stared at me like he knew very intimately what I craved.

“How would you know what I crave?” I asked with a grin.

He bit his bottom lip, and I had to squeeze my thighs to dampen the heat that flared between them. “You read some interesting books.”

My heart stuttered. “How do you know what kind of books I read?”

“I know that you’re desperate for something that I can give,” he tilted his head, inspecting me. Goosebumps ravaged my skin, though I tried my best to keep myself composed.

“What do you want, Rafe?”

“Several things,” he sipped from his glass.

Then, before I could respond, a voice from the shadows interrupted us.

“She’s even more stunning in person.”

I stiffened.

Rafe didn’t turn right away. Instead, his lips twitched in something close to irritation before he finally looked toward the man who had spoken.

My pulse pounded as my gaze followed his–and my stomach dropped. I recognized the man approaching the bar. He had a wild reputation. A name whispered in elite, dangerous circles. A man who shouldn’t know my face but somehow did.

And just like that, I realized I was in the lion’s den.

“Maximillian,” a woman’s voice interrupted us. I turned to see one of those beautiful women draped in silk and diamonds beckoning him over. He grinned, winking at me as he shoved away from the bar.

As soon as he left, the tension in the room shifted again. It didn’t dissolve, not entirely, but it changed shape. I turned to Rafe, forcing my expression into one of quiet confidence, even as my pulse still raced from the unspoken threats hanging in the air. “A client of yours?” “Yes.”

I straightened. “Are you going to tell me now?”

Rafe’s brow lifted slightly. “Tell you what , exactly?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why I’m really here.” I gestured toward the rest of the room–the luxury, the power humming in the air like a well-kept secret. “You didn’t summon me just for fun, Rafe. At least I don’t think so based on the wildly private setting.”

A slow smirk bloomed on his lips.

I sucked in a breath. “The breach,” I said firmly. “I want answers.”

For a moment, he simply looked at me, as if measuring the weight of my demand. Then, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a phone. He swiped across the screen before turning it toward me.

My stomach dropped.

It was a screenshot–lines of code and error messages I recognized instantly. A direct fragment of the breach.

I clenched my jaw. “Why the hell were you in my system?”

“Relax, love.” He set the phone down on the table between us, his fingers idly tapping against the glass. “I wasn’t able to crack in. Which is perfect, because I’m an impeccable hacker.”

A flicker of rage and fear twisted inside me. “You–”

“I needed to know if you were as good as they say,” he cut in smoothly, his tone infuriatingly calm. “And you are .”

I schooled my expression, refusing to let Rafe see just how much his words unnerved me. But inside, my mind raced. “If you wanted to impress me, there were easier ways,” I said coolly.

Rafe chuckled, but his eyes remained sharp, unreadable. “You wouldn’t have been impressed with much else.”

I didn’t deny it.

Instead, I exhaled slowly and picked up my glass, taking a steady sip before setting it down. “Let’s stop playing. If you wanted to expose a weakness in my security, you didn’t. This is annoying, and I don't have time for this nonsense.”

Rafe’s smirk faded slightly, his demeanor shifting into something darker. “I want you to work with me.”

I swallowed hard, but before I could respond, a figure approached. Maximillian had returned–but he wasn’t alone. Another man, taller, broader, and just as menacing, lingered beside him.

“Vaughan,” Maximilian murmured, his eyes flicking to me with curiosity before returning to Rafe. “We have to finish our earlier discussion.”

I felt it immediately–the way the atmosphere shifted and Rafe’s easy charm hardened into a coldness that bordered on lethal.

He didn’t look at me as he spoke. “Wait here, Adela.”