Page 11 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

“All set?” he asked.

She tucked the phone into her back pocket. “Right behind you.”

He nodded and started up. Natalie followed, eyeing the industrial metal door at the upper landing. Its deep red color gave off an ominous vibe, made even more so by a large black Roman numeral III painted in the center. Muffled voices and music pulsed faintly through the metal.

"Give it a knock,” he suggested. “Three hard raps with the side of your fist. It has to be exactly three though."

Her eyes lit up. "Like a secret code?”

"Exactly. This place is called Three Raps." He pointed to the number.

She followed his instructions and the door opened, revealing a warm blend of wood, leather and vintage lighting. Very old school gentleman’s club, filled with well-dressed people their age.

“Oh, thank God,” she whispered, shoulders dropping. Not a serial killer’s lair.

If he heard her, he didn’t let on. His hand found the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd to an empty table. He pulled out her chair. A candle flickered in a glass hurricane lamp. Natalie cupped her cold hands over it. A server approached and rattled off an impressive list of spirit and food options.

"What sounds good to you? Another martini?” he asked.

"We’re here for dancing, remember? I'll have a Coke."

Now, more than ever, she needed to keep her wits. The martini from Eddie’s place still pulsed through her bloodstream. One more drink and she’d really be pushing it.

He ordered. “Make it two Cokes.”

The server nodded and left them alone. Natalie watched him take inventory of the crowd. As his gaze cruised the perimeter of the club, she studied him a little more.

Damn. His profile is sexy. And that scar of his just kicks it up a notch. Would it kill you to bend the rules and find out this guy’s name?

“Back at the pub, I noticed you have a little …” She gestured to her own jawline.

“You want to know about my scar?”

“Only if you want to tell me. I probably shouldn’t have asked. Sorry.”

“I took a polo mallet to the face on my twenty-first birthday.”

Natalie winced. “Oh my God, how awful.”

Awful, yes, but he plays polo. Which means he’s a skilled rider. Another coincidence.

“It was just a scratch, but I bled like a stuck pig.”

“You play polo?” she asked, intrigued.

“Haven’t in years, but I’d love to pick it up again at some point.”

Wouldn’t you die if I told you my father trains horses for a living …

The server returned with their drinks.

Natalie raised hers. "To being edgy and spontaneous."

He clinked his glass against hers. "My two favorite adjectives.”

The band started up. A trio of musicians delivered torchy, soulful jazz that reverberated in her chest. A couple of times her eyes drifted shut. Each time she opened them, she found him watching her with a smile that filled his whole face.

She wasn’t imagining it.