Page 5 of Monsters Wear Crowns (Crowned Monsters Duet #1)

A cold ripple kissed my spine and my stomach clenched. The air seemed to thicken, the familiar comfort of my penthouse suddenly foreign. My pulse fluttered–a sharp, startling beat of...what? Panic? No. Heat pooled low, and I hated how it tangled with my unease. Did that turn me on? Jesus Christ.

“Something wrong?” Louis’s voice brought me back. His brown eyes were soft and questioning. Safe.

Yes. Something was very fucking wrong. With me.

I let the screen flick to black. “No,” I said too smoothly. “Just work.”

The lie rolled easily off my tongue. My stranger had seen us last night. He was the man I noticed on the dance floor. And he…he wa nted me.

The lazy morning unfolded peacefully. Louis had a boyish charm, confident but easy. He was good in every sense of the word, and I knew I’d never call him again. Still, I made him coffee, the rich aroma filling the kitchen as sunlight drenched the marble countertops.

He took the cup with a crooked smile. “So, you’re this kind of hookup.”

I smirked, leaning on the counter. “Don’t get used to it.”

A chuckle. “Fair enough.”

Our eyes met, and in that fleeting silence, there was mutual understanding. This was what it was. Simple. Fleeting. No strings.

“Anyway, thanks for the...hospitality,” he said, his voice warm and playful.

I walked him to the door, watching as he stepped into the hall. He glanced back.

“You’re something else, Adela.”

“Thank you, Louis,” I laughed softly, closing the door with a click. I sighed, the quiet pressing in once more. The text lingered in my mind, coiling tight around my thoughts. I should’ve been rattled. But…

I wasn’t. Instead, I was intrigued.

***

RAFE

She brought a man home with her last night. I had watched from my usual spot, jaw locked, hands curled into fists in my pockets as she stumbled into her penthouse with him. Some nobody with messy blond hair and the kind of grin that told me he thought he had a fucking chance.

I should’ve killed him.

But that text I sent her that morning? That was enough for now. A little reminder that she wasn’t alone. That even when she thought she was free, she was being watched.

Now, the streets were alive with the usual early morning activity.

Business doors unlocked, the scent of coffee thick in the air, office workers spilling onto sidewalks as they rushed to start their day.

I moved through the crowd with ease, no hood today, no need for the shadows.

My target had officially noticed me. She even seemed intrigued. And I knew why.

I knew exactly the kind of woman she was.

The second I cracked into her system, I saw everything.

The things she searched for, the kind of filth she read in her spare time–things that told me she wasn’t like most women.

Adela Sinclair wasn’t just strong. She was starving .

For power. For control. For things that were darker than the world around her could ever give her.

And that made her mine.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I answered without looking.

“Did you meet with the girl yet?” Vincent’s voice was impatient. The prick.

“Not yet,” I said, my eyes scanning the street ahead. “But soon.”

Vincent sighed through the receiver. “We don’t have time for you to play house, Rafe. You already pissed Moreau off by taking on Galetti as a client. You’ve officially drawn the battle lines.”

I grinned, licking my teeth. “And?”

“And that means the bastard is coming for you. Hard, man. He’s a killer.”

“Let him.” I chuckled, shifting my weight as I glanced at my reflection in one of the glass storefronts. “I’m not worried about Moreau.”

The man had power. Connections. A reputation that made men shake when they heard his name. But I wasn’t like the men he had steamrolled in the past .

I was worse.

I was bloodthirsty. I was fucking untouchable. And I didn’t mind getting rough.

Vincent sighed again, probably pinching the bridge of his nose like he always did when I pissed him off. “Just don’t let her become a distraction.”

“She won’t be.” We both knew that was a lie. I enjoyed having my fun.

Vincent hung up, and I slid my phone back into my pocket, stepping off the curb. I shoved my hand up, tousling my black hair and smiling at a kind-looking elderly woman walking by. When I turned back, I saw her.

My little doe.

She stepped out of her building, sleek and powerful in a fitted black skirt, her red-bottom heels clicking against the pavement.

A woman of luxury, she was. She smoothed her black hair back with a manicured hand, piercing blue eyes sharp as ever, shoulders squared as she moved through the crowd like she owned the fucking world.

I inhaled a deep breath, feeling my heart suddenly pick up its pace. She had no idea that I was the predator. And that soon, she’d be beneath my teeth.

I slid my hands deeper into my pockets, my lips curling.

This was going to be fun.

***

ADELA

The glass doors of Sinclair Solutions slid open with a soft hiss, and the familiar scent of fresh coffee filled my senses. The low hum of servers, the distant chatter of my employees–my kingdom, running like clockwork.

I moved through the lobby, my heels clicking sharply against polished floors. The towering glass windows mirrored the Manhattan skyline–a reflection of my success. Yet, I felt...off. The text from this morning still burned beneath my skin, an itch I couldn’t scratch.

“Good morning, Ms. Sinclair,” my assistant, Marcus, greeted, falling into step beside me. “The reports you requested are on your desk, and you have a meeting at ten with the cybersecurity team.”

I nodded, barely hearing him. “Thank you, Marcus.” My mind was elsewhere–on a pair of unseen eyes and the heat they left in their wake. The elevator doors opened to my private floor, and a familiar voice sliced through my thoughts.

“You look like you barely slept.”

I smirked before I saw her. “Good morning, Laura.”

She was perched on the edge of my desk, ankles crossed, exuding trouble in a black jumpsuit and heels sharp enough to kill a man. Her eyes glinted with amusement and curiosity.

“You’re early,” I said, setting my bag down.

“You’re late,” she countered, her grin widening. “So? Spill . Who’s the man that had you up all night? I lost you at some point.”

“You’re relentless.” I gave her a pointed look. “The blondie I was dancing with.”

“And you love me for it.” She hopped down, sauntering over. “Judging by your face, it was either very good...or very weird.”

I hesitated. “A little of both.”

Her brows shot up. “Oh? Do tell.”

I could’ve brushed it off–kept it light. But Laura wasn’t just anyone . She was my closest confidant. She saw through me like glass.

“There was a text,” I admitted, voice lower. “Anonymous. He...was watching me last night. That man in the hoodie...that was the one who came to my apartment the other night.”

Her amusement faded immediately. “ Excuse me? Why didn’t you tell me last night when he showed up?”

I ran a hand through my hair. “I honestly don’t know. Denial, maybe.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Adela–”

“It felt...different,” I cut in, pulse quickening as the memory curled through me again. “Wrong. But...intoxicating.”

Her lips parted, then curled into a slow, wicked smile. “You’re enjoying this.”

I exhaled sharply. “I didn’t say that.”

“No,” she said, eyes glittering. “But I know that look. Whoever he is...he’s under your skin. You’re a twisted fuck.”

I threw my head back and laughed because she wasn’t wrong.

***

The flight was easy enough. I guess any flight was enjoyable if you were in first class. I always loved visiting Florida for work. It honestly felt like more of a mini vacation than anything. Just a couple of quick dinners and I was free to wander the beach and sit on my balcony reading my books.

My hotel in Fort Lauderdale was a sleek, modern glass tower with sweeping views of the ocean–the kind of place meant to impress clients.

And for Sinclair Solutions, appearances mattered.

I’d checked in earlier without issue, freshened up, and spent the evening at an overpriced restaurant with a client who couldn’t stop talking about how he kept his offshore accounts “clean.”

Dinner had been predictable–another man who thought money made him untouchable. But his business fed ours, and I played the part I always did. Polished. Sharp. Unshakable. An obvious woman of his dreams that he would never be able to touch. It didn’t stop him from trying, though.

By the time I escaped, the sun was sinking low, streaking the sky in shades of blood orange and violet.

I kicked off my heels and walked along the beach, letting the cool sand slip between my toes as the waves lapped against the shore.

The rhythm of the ocean was calming in a way that had me smiling to myself.

My mind quieted, and I exhaled a deep, unhurried breath.

But my thoughts were not quiet enough. Because I still felt it. That prickle at the back of my neck. The one I’d been feeling far too often lately.

When I finally returned to my room, I ordered an expensive bottle of French wine and peeled off my dress in favor of a fuzzy, white robe. The room was beautiful: marble floors, a king-sized bed, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the water. But my feet carried me straight to the balcony.

The moon hung over the ocean, its silver reflection shimmering across the waves. I slowly sipped my wine, breathing in the salty, humid air. The night was peaceful, thank all the damn gods. I swept my hair up into a claw clip and smiled to myself.

My phone vibrated with a text from Laura:

Everything is all good here! Closing up for the weekend. Have a nice vacay, you bitch. :)

I grinned, typing out a quick response:

You’re a queen. Wish you were here, too!

As I went to set my phone on the glass table, I took another too-big swig of my wine.

And then I inhaled so sharply that I choked on it. What...the fuck.