Page 22 of Monsters Wear Crowns
I stood, making a decision before I could second-guess myself. I strode to my bedroom, slipping into a form-fitting black dress. Its high neckline and long sleeves were an elegant contrast to the way it clung to every lovely curve. My black hair fell in cascading waves over my shoulders as I swept my wispy bangs into place. A final touch of red lipstick, a quiet inhale, and then I stepped into my heels. By the time I walked out the door, the card was still pressed between my fingers.
I had no fucking idea what I was walking into.
Chapter 5
The luxury taxi rolled to a smooth stop before a wealthy hotel, its towering glass facade reflecting the city lights. I stepped out, the cool night air brushing against my skin as I smoothed down my black dress. I glanced down at the card between my fingers, tracing the embossed letters with my thumb.9 PM. Top floor. Code: 07083.
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.
07083.
The panel beeped in acceptance, and the elevator lurchedupward. 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.”
