Page 13 of Monsters Wear Crowns
My stomach tightened.
I didn’t like this–how quickly he got under my skin, how easily he unraveled me with a few carefully chosen words. I exhaled sharply, reaching for my clutch. “Well, good luck with that,” I said smoothly, sliding off my barstool.
His hand moved before I even realized what he was doing–just a brush of fingers along my wrist, barely a touch at all. But it stopped me cold.
Not because of the contact itself.
But because of how my body reacted to it.
Heat licked down my spine. My pulse skipped.
I shouldn’t feel like this. Not from this random man.
His thumb ghosted over my skin, just once, before he let me go. “I didn’t catch your name,” he murmured.
I forced myself to breathe before slipping my wrist from his reach. “Then I guess you weren’t meant to,” I said, offering him a slow smirk before turning toward the exit.
His eyes burned into my back as I walked away. I told myself not to look back.
But I did.
And when I did, I found his gaze still locked onto me.
The rooftop terrace was quiet, the murmur of the bar below reduced to a low hum beneath the hush of the city. The skyline stretched before me, buildings standing dark against the inky sky, windows glowing like distant stars.
I leaned against the sleek railing, whiskey glass danglingbetween my fingers. The air was cool against my skin, refreshing against the heat lingering in my veins from that man at the bar. I took a slow sip, letting the alcohol burn its way down. He fucking found me.
I shouldn’t have looked back.
Shouldn’t have felt that flicker of something when I found his eyes still on me. God, he was gorgeous. He was direct in a way I had never experienced in a man. As I looked upon the dazzling city lights, I allowed myself to ponder if he would have been what I had been searching for.
The moment the terrace door swung open, I knew I wasn’t alone anymore. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. A shiver trailed down my spine as his footsteps echoed against the stone floor.
I kept my eyes on the skyline, swirling my drink. “Following me already?”
His chuckle was deep, dark velvet. “If I was following you, you wouldn’t know.”
I forced a bored expression, finally turning to face him. And it was a mistake. In the dim light, he looked even more sinful, all sharp cheekbones and wicked amusement, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his suit pants. He was watching me like I was the most entertaining thing in the world, and I suddenly wished I hadn’t come up here alone.
A predator. That’s what he was.
“Okay, if we’re doing this, tell me your name,” I said, taking another sip of my drink.
He smiled, slow and deliberate. “Rafe.”
The glass nearly slipped from my fingers. A chill wrapped around my spine, squeezing tight. I didn’t need him to say his last name. I already knew it.
RafefuckingVaughan. The Dark Monster of New York City.
I forced my fingers to relax around the stem of my glass. Forced my lips to curve in feigned amusement. Forced my stomachto settle even as nausea curled at the edges.
Because Iknewthat name.
Everyonein New York knew it.
He wasn’t just some rich man playing king in the shadows. He was one of the worst criminals in the city. A name whispered in underground circles, dripping in blood, wealth, and fear. He had his hands in everything–drugs, weapons, high-profile laundering operations that law enforcement could never quite trace. His clients weren’t just criminals. They were the men whoownedcriminals.
And he’d been stalking me.
