Page 111 of Monsters Wear Crowns
“Love?Interesting.” His expression softened–just a fraction. “Well, you’ve simply found yourself in the middle of something that was already in motion long before you entered the picture.”
I tilted my head, genuinely curious to hear it from him. “Then tell me, why are you and Rafe even fighting?”
He sighed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before answering. “Rafe and I used to coexist just fine. We had an understanding–our business ventures remained separate, no crossing lines. It was even how our families did things. But then, circumstances changed.” His jaw flexed slightly. “Rafe’s reach grew. His empire expanded. And suddenly, it wasn’t enough for him to have his own side of the city. He wanted it all. He tried taking one of my uncle’s longtime clients.”
I frowned, taking a slow sip. “So this is about territory?”
“Territory, money, power, relationships.” Moreau’s gaze darkened. “But mostly control. Rafe doesn’t like anyone in his way, and I don’t like being pushed aside.” He set his glass down. “I extended my empire’s strength with my own hands. I won’t let him take it from me.”
I chewed my lip, unsure of how I felt about that. Rafe didn’t tell me any ofthat. He had trouble opening up to me.
Time slipped away like silk between my fingers. A bottle of wine was opened, and the conversation drifted between easy, surface-level topics and deeper ones that skimmed just beneath the surface.
Moreau talked about his empire–not in a boastful way, but with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he had built and what it took to keep it standing. He told me about his investments and his expansion into legitimate ventures that kept the authorities distracted from his less-than-legal ones. He asked me easy questions–where I grew up, what I loved about my company, and my favorite cities.
The wine made me soft and loose. It felt too easy, sinking into the couch beside him, the expensive fabric cool against my bare skin. I wasn’t sure when I’d curled up, one leg tucked beneath me, my body angled toward his.
“You’re a fascinating woman, Adela,” he murmured, swirling the deep red liquid in his glass. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone quite like you.”
I smirked, resting my head on my hand. “You say that like you haven’t been surrounded by beautiful women before.”
“Oh, I have.” His gaze dragged over me, slow, assessing. “But none quite like you. I am no stranger to beautiful, powerful women. Although, most women I surround myself with are the kind to get on their knees the moment I demand it. But you…you remind me of a wildfire. Bold, untamed, willing to destroy.”
I swallowed hard at that. There was something deliciously dangerous about the way he watched me. Something taunting in the way his fingers traced the rim of his glass.
And then, with the same casual ease, he asked, “Is Rafe as good in bed as everyone assumes?”
I nearly choked on my wine. “Excuse me?Who assumes that?”
His smirk deepened. “Oh, come on. A man like that? With a reputation like his? I have to wonder if he lives up to theassumption.”
I scoffed, setting my glass down on the coffee table. “You’re insane.”
“And you’re avoiding the question.”
I sighed dramatically, my head tilting back against the couch. The wine had loosened my tongue far too much. “Fine. If you must know, yes. He’s amazing.”
Moreau hummed, leaning back, stretching his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers just barely brushing my shoulder.
“Interesting,” he mused. “But I wonder…does he satisfy youcompletely?”
I blinked, the question sobering me for half a second. Then I laughed, shaking my head. “You are so full of shit.”
“I’m only curious.”
“No, you’re just a bastard who enjoys stirring the pot.”
His smirk widened, and he leaned in just a fraction. “Maybe. But you didn’t answer the question.”
My breath stuttered as his hand moved, fingers trailing down the curve of my arm, slow, barely there. My skin prickled in awareness, my body betraying me.
I swallowed, trying to ignore how my pulse fluttered in my throat. “He’s…everything I need.”
Moreau’s fingers traced my wrist, his touch featherlight, teasing. “Need,” he echoed. “Notwant?”
I sucked in a breath, my heart hammering. He was too close. Too warm. Too intoxicating.
I tried to play it off, rolling my eyes as I shifted slightly, but he only used the movement to press in closer, his breath brushing against my jaw. This fucking wine made my entire body tingle.
