Page 11 of Monsters Wear Crowns
The glass hit the dresser with a quietthudas I palmed my hardening cock, closing my eyes. Just a little longer after we were back in New York. And then, Adela Sinclair would be mine.
Chapter 3
ADELA
The city pulsed beneath me, alive with the hum of a Friday night. I’d spent the past two weeks drowning in work, my world reduced to boardrooms, security briefings, and the occasional bottle of wine that did little to settle the restlessness inside me. But tonight, I couldn’t sit in my penthouse, staring at my phone like I was waiting for something–or someone. I needed to get out. My stranger hadn’t trailed me since Fort Lauderdale, and I didn’t know what to think about that.
I smoothed my hands down the sleek fabric of my black skirt, feeling the lace against my skin. The red top clung to my figure, dipping between my breasts. It was a calculated choice, just like the winged liner that sharpened my blue gaze, the high ponytail that bared my neck, and the crimson soles of my heels clicking against the marble as I crossed my apartment.
I exhaled, staring at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror near the door. I looked powerful. Untouchable.
I sighed heavily, grabbing my black clutch before stepping out. The moment the elevator doors slid open to the lobby, I was already focused on the bar across the street. A luxury cocktail lounge–dark, intimate, the kind of place where businessmen whispered sins over hundred-dollar whiskey, and women pretended to listen. It wasn’t where I usually went to let off steam, but tonight,I didn’t want a crowded dance floor or meaningless small talk. I wanted control. I wanted oblivion. I wanted the smoothest drinks to coat my throat.
***
The doorman nodded as I stepped inside, and the rich scent of aged liquor and expensive cologne wrapped around me. Dim golden light illuminated the space. The hum of conversation swirled with the soft melody of a live pianist in the corner. I headed straight for the bar, perching on one of the plush leather stools as the bartender, a sleek man in a pressed black shirt, approached.
“What’s your poison?”
“Whiskey. Your finest. Neat.”
His brow flicked up in approval before he turned, pouring amber liquid into crystal. I let my eyes drift across the room, watching the people gathered in their little bubbles of whispered deals and stolen glances. The game of power was everywhere–subtle, quiet. I had taken several clients here, whispering of their horrid business deals and shady operations. But my mind wasn’t on them.
It was onhim.
The stranger. It had been two weeks, and I still hadn’t heard from him. He had unraveled something inside me, leaving a fraying thread of anticipation wound too tight. In the solitude of my bed, I had thought of him–of his hands, his voice, the way his presence had made my blood heat.
What would he do if I let him in? If I let him take?
Nowthatwas the enticing question.
I swallowed hard, gripping the glass as the warmth of whiskey slid down my throat. It wasinsane. I knew that. No sane woman should crave the presence of someone who had watched her from the shadows. He could be seriously dangerous or unhinged. Maybe he wanted to drive a blade into my chest forty-five times.
But sanity had never satisfied me. I never understood why I was this way. Laura was normal, finding immense pleasure in many men. But me? No. I exhaled slowly, willing the thoughts away. Maybe tonight, I’d find something or someone to scratch that fucking itch beneath my skin. A temporary distraction. Because that’s all it ever was.
As I reached for my drink again, a presence brushed past me.
A man slid onto the stool beside me. Tall. Dark hair. Sharp suit.
Nothim.
I resisted the urge to sigh.
The whiskey burned warm in my throat, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the creeping awareness curling around my spine. That prickle of being watched. I ignored it, rolling my shoulders back. Ifhewas watching, then let him. Let him see exactly what he’d been waiting two weeks for.
The presence shifted beside me. Not the leering type that clung like cheap cologne. No, this was different. Darker. Commanding.
“Drinking alone?”
I froze. The voice was smooth, a rich, velvety timbre that slid over my skin like silk. But beneath that polish, there was something rougher–something that scraped against my nerves in a way that made my stomach drop.
I turned my head slightly, pulse hammering as I took him in. Tall. Dark features. Breathtaking in a way that was almost unfair. Black tousled hair, just disheveled enough to suggest fingers had been in it. A sharp jawline, the kind that could cut glass. Strong shoulders, broad and confident beneath his tailored suit. But it was his eyes that held me captive. Icy blue. Piercing. Watching me with a lazy kind of amusement.
“For now,” I said, mirroring his smirk as I lifted my glass.
He hummed, tapping a single finger against the rim of his own drink. “A woman like you, alone in a place like this? Eitheryou’re waiting for someone, or you prefer to be left alone.”
I tilted my head. “And yet here you are,ignoringthat possibility.”
