Novels by Q.Monroe

The storm outside hadn’t stopped since morning. The rain came down in thick, angry sheets that rattled the windows and swallowed the world in darkness. Ariella stood by the window, her reflection trembling against the glass. She could still hear his words from last night echoing in her head.“I’m not your enemy.”But how was she supposed to believe that when everything about him screamed danger?Lucien Draven wasn’t just the man who had shattered her life, he was the man offering to fix it. That was the problem.She turned when the door creaked open. Lucien walked in slowly, dressed in black, his damp hair clinging to his forehead. He looked too calm for a man who’d just walked through a storm. There was something about him, something controlled, deliberate, and terrifyingly sure.Ariella’s fingers tightened around the edge of the curtain. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said softly.He didn’t stop. “You said you wanted answers,” he replied, his voice low. “So, here I am.”Her pulse rac

The morning light crawled into Ariella’s room slowly, like it was afraid to disturb her. She hadn’t really slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him—Lucien—standing too close, his voice low, his breath mixing with hers, and that moment… that almost happened. Her fingers brushed over her lips as if to erase the memory, but it lingered, stubborn and warm. She sat up and exhaled shakily. The air felt heavy, charged with everything left unsaid between them. A soft knock sounded on the door. Her heart jumped. “Come in,” she said, even though part of her wanted to pretend she was still asleep. Lucien stepped inside, still wearing the same dark shirt from the night before. The first few buttons were undone, his sleeves rolled up. His expression was unreadable—calm on the surface, but his eyes gave him away. He’d barely looked at her since last night. “Breakfast is ready,” he said quietly. Ariella nodded without meeting his gaze. “Thanks.” He turned to leave, but something

The night felt heavier than usual.Rain tapped lightly against the windows, the sound soft but relentless — like a secret that refused to die down. Ariella sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers trembling against the folds of her nightgown. She hadn’t changed the sheets since that afternoon. The air still carried the faint scent of fear and truth.Lucien’s truth.Her father’s death. Elise’s deceit. The truth that had pulled her entire world apart.A gentle knock came at her door.She froze. “Who is it?”“It’s me,” Lucien’s voice came quietly through the door, lower than usual. “Can I come in?”Ariella swallowed hard. She wanted to tell him no. She wanted space — to breathe, to stop shaking. But her heart, traitorous as always, whispered something else.“Yes,” she managed to say.The door creaked open. He stepped inside, dressed in a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, a few buttons undone. His eyes searched her like he wasn’t sure he had the right to look at her anymore.“I couldn’t slee

The storm had passed, but the silence that followed was worse. It was the kind that hummed through your bones and left you listening to every breath you took, wondering what was real anymore. Ariella hadn’t slept. The sky was just beginning to turn gray when she pushed herself off the floor. Her eyes burned, her body heavy from crying, but her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Every word Elise said, every look Lucien gave her—it kept replaying like a wound she couldn’t stop touching. She walked to the mirror and almost didn’t recognize the woman staring back. Pale skin. Red eyes. Hair tangled from the night. There was something haunted about her reflection, something she didn’t want to admit was her. She opened her drawer, her fingers brushing against the silver cross her father had given her years ago. It used to make her feel safe. Now it just made her feel lost. A sudden creak echoed from the hallway. Her heart jumped. For a moment she thought it was Lucien—but when she opened the d

And now she knew they were coming for her. Ariella’s pulse roared in her ears as she pressed her back against the cold wall. The night air crept in through the broken window, whispering like a warning. She could feel the weight of every secret suffocating her—her father’s death, Lucien’s confession, Elise’s lies. Everything she thought she knew about her life was slipping away, like sand through trembling fingers. The mansion that once felt like a cage now felt like a hunting ground. Every creak, every distant sound made her heart leap. Lucien had disappeared hours ago, claiming he needed to “finish what was started.” She hadn’t seen him since. “Elise?” she called softly, her voice quivering as she crept down the hallway. No answer. Just the echo of her own footsteps. The portraits on the wall seemed to stare at her—her father’s eyes frozen in paint, as if warning her of something she wasn’t ready to face. Then came a faint noise from the east wing—a door closing, slowly. Ariel

“Then we start now.”Lucien’s voice echoed through the silence that had fallen between them. Ariella stood frozen in the middle of the living room, her heartbeat hammering against her ribcage like a warning bell. Rain still tapped against the windows, the storm outside mirroring the chaos in her chest.She didn’t know what starting now meant. Did it mean finally telling the truth? Did it mean ripping open the wounds they’d both avoided for too long?He moved first, his footsteps deliberate as he walked past her and sat down on the couch. “You want answers, Ariella. I’ll give them. But not all at once. Not like this.” His fingers rubbed at his temples. “You need to understand the kind of fire you’re walking into.”“I’m already burning,” she said hoarsely, turning to face him. “So stop speaking in riddles.”Lucien looked up at her then, and in his eyes, she saw something she hadn’t expected—guilt. Not the cold, calculated indifference she was used to, but a haunted kind of regret that m