Page 78 of Monsters Wear Crowns
“Oh, and I wanted to run something else by you,” Laura huffed, snatching the remote off of my desk. She clicked on the wall-mounted flatscreen tv and immediately, I saw images of a warehouse on fire.
My stomach clenched.
“Do you know about this?” she asked, though it sounded like she already knew.
I didn’t hesitate or shy away. “Yes. That was us.”
“Goddammit, Adela,” she hissed. “What thefuck. People were shot.”
“I know,” I nodded quickly. “Please trust me.”
She placed her hands on her hips and glared at me, her chest rising and falling with clear stress. “Fine. But you need to tell me abouteverythingnow.”
“I will, Laura.”
The day passed in a blur of tense meetings and wary glances. By the time the sun dipped below the skyline, exhaustion tugged at me, but so did the weight of my choices. I hadn’t been with Rafe long enough to jeopardize my business and everyone in it. And what? I was getting fantastic sex out of the deal in return? Ugh, I wanted to punch myself in the face.
My heart jumped when my phone suddenly pinged.
Rafe: I’m outside.
I gathered my things and stepped out into the cool evening air. The black car waited at the curb, sleek and silent, and when I slid into the backseat, his presence filled the space immediately.
He watched me with that unreadable expression, his hand resting on his thigh. “Productive day?”
“Interesting day.” I glanced out the window, watching the city blur past. “Laura’s going to kill me.”
“Not if Moreau gets there first,” he said dryly.
I shot him a look. “You’re hilarious. But in all seriousness, Laura might murder us both.”
For a moment, we allowed silence to fill the air between us. Then his voice softened. “I don’t like you being there.”
“I know. You don’t have to like it,” I sighed, glancing out the window. “But you’re going to have to deal with it. I amprotecting what Moreau desperately wants to rip apart.” I paused, locking my gaze with his. “You.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he was silent the rest of the way home.
***
The night was warm, the kind of summer evening that felt like silk against the skin. Rafe’s back patio overlooked sprawling gardens and the soft, golden lights that lined the pathways below. Above us, the sky was an endless black velvet, scattered with stars, and the air smelled faintly of jasmine and the embers of the fire he’d just lit.
It should’ve felt peaceful. But the quiet between us was heavy. It felt like life had just turned into a stress-fest. And, well, it did.
Rafe sat across from me on one of the low, sleek outdoor couches, his face bathed in the flickering glow of the flames. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms, the same arms that had held me down, pinned me against silk sheets and made me crave things I never should have. But tonight, those hands were still. Resting on his knees, his fingers tapping out a slow, thoughtful rhythm.
He was thinking. Planning. But not about me.
I watched him for a long moment, then forced a smile. “You know, this place is pretty peaceful at night.”
A corner of his mouth lifted, but his eyes stayed distant.
“I like the air, the stars, the fire…” I said softly, my eyes moving over the fire. “And you.”
That got his attention. His sharp gaze flicked up to mine. But he didn’t say anything.
The silence continued. I tried again.
“You’ve never told me much about this house. Did you buy it, or–”
