Page 51 of Monsters Wear Crowns
My pulse hadn’t settled. “Don’t start.” But even as I said it, I felt the heat coiling low in my stomach. Because tonight, I was stepping deeper into his world, and there was no going back.
Chapter 11
The soft clink of my wine glass against the cool marble countertop filled the quiet of my penthouse. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city shimmered–a sea of lights against the velvet night. But I wasn’t paying attention to that.
I leaned against the kitchen island, scrolling through my phone with one hand, the other trailing the rim of my glass. My eyes flicked over headline after headline–scandal, corruption, murder. Nothing new. Not when you worked with the kind of clients I did.
I snorted softly. Cute. They hadn’t even scratched the surface of whatthatclient had really been up to.
A bold headline:Tech Mogul’s Sudden Disappearance–Foul Play Suspected.
I kept scrolling. It wasn’t rare to see my clients’ names splashed across the news. Sometimes, it was fraud. Sometimes, it was a murder or money laundering. I’d grown used to the chaos, the scandals, and the whispers, but lately, I felt I was teetering closer to the edge than I ever had before. I didn’t wantmycompany in the headlines.
My phone buzzed against the marble.
When I saw the number, a slow smile curved my lips.
Unknown Number:Wear a dress for me.
The glass hit the countertop with a soft thud as I set it down and straightened. The warm flush in my blood had nothing to dowith the wine. I stared at the message a second longer than I needed to, savoring the ripple of anticipation it sent through me.
He actually texted me from his real phone number.
I downed the rest of my drink and went to get ready.
I chose the red dress. It was sleek and sinful, the color of blood and temptation. The plunging neckline dared anyone to look, and the hemline didn’t leave much to the imagination either. Paired with black heels and a swipe of red lipstick, I looked every bit the woman I wanted the world to see: powerful and fucking untouchable.
I stored his number and stepped into the elevator. When the following message came through, my pulse kicked up.
Rafe: Here.
The doors slid open with a soft chime, and the warm summer night wrapped around me. The black limo idled at the curb, sleek and ominous beneath the streetlights. And when the door opened, and I saw him lounging in the shadows with those ice-blue eyes locked on me, my heart raced in a way it hadn’t in years. I was stepping into the unknown. Into his world. And I couldn’t wait. I craved anything that allowed me to be close to him. His eyes swept over me, lingering on my tanned, muscular legs.
I slid into the limo, the cool leather brushing against my skin as the door shut behind me with a softclick. The low hum of the engine barely registered over the pounding of my heart. Rafe sat across from me in the dim light, one arm draped lazily over the back of the seat, his legs spread like he owned the world–because, in a way, he did.
His eyes traveled over me slowly, taking in every inch of the dress he’d asked me to wear. When his gaze finally reached mine, a wicked smile curved his lips. “Perfect,” he murmured, and that one word sent a slow shiver down my spine. “I expect to fuck you in that dress tonight.”
Heat flooded me, but I didn’t let myself get distracted. Not yet. I leaned back, crossed my legs, and kept my voice calm andsteady. “Did you find the leak?”
For a second, he didn’t answer. He just watched me, his head tilting slightly, and the weight of his silence made my pulse skip.
Then he said, simply, “Yes.”
That one word felt like a stone dropping into my stomach. I kept my face relaxed, but my mind spun. I knew what that answer meant.He had fucking killed someone.“Is it handled?” I asked carefully.
His smile sharpened. “It’s handled.”
My throat tightened. I didn’t ask for details–I didn’t need them. I already knew what Rafe Vaughan’s version ofhandledlooked like. Blood. Bodies. Silence. I wondered if he did it himself or had someone do it for him.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I knew what he was, and I’d still chosen to step into his world. But knowing it in theory and facing it in reality were two very different things. The limo moved smoothly through the city, but the space between us felt charged and sensual. I watched him pull a crystal tumbler from the mini bar and pour a measure of whiskey, the muscles in his forearm flexing beneath his rolled-up white suit sleeves. He offered me the glass without a word.
I took it, more to steady my hands than anything else. The whiskey burned as I swallowed, but it did nothing to chase away the ache in my chest, the strange mixture of fear and desire I always felt around him.
“You’re quiet,little doe,” he said softly, watching me over the rim of his glass. “Does my efficiency bother you?”
I met his gaze, forcing myself to hold it. “I don’t like loose ends. I assume you don’t either.”
His eyes gleamed. “We agree on that, then.” But there was a darkness behind his words.
