Page 20 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

She placed the tray on the counter near the sink. “As much as the law will allow.”

“Don’t bother with that. I’ll take care of it later. You can grab us a couple of plates though.” He pointed to an upper cabinet.

Natalie gathered items from the fully stocked kitchen—linen napkins, fancy cutlery, the works. By the time he’d finished cooking, she’d set a beautiful table for two in the adjacent dining space. When he offered to pop a bottle of champagne for mimosas, she said, “Sure! Why not!” Her final home-cooked meal in London; might as well make it special. Twenty-four hours before, she’d have thought this outcome insane.

He gave a whistle when he saw the table. As he pulled out a chair for her, he said, “You really do work in hospitality, don’t you?”

“I really do.” She placed her hand on his. “And I’m sorry, but I have to get going right after this gorgeous breakfast. Thank you, by the way, for everything. I’ve had the loveliest time.”

“Me too.” He flipped his hand over and squeezed hers. “Not sure if you’re a fan of musicals, but a friend gave me two tickets to a West End show. I think it’s Thursday night⁠—”

She cut him off. “I can’t do Thursday night.”

“That’s fine. What night works? I’ll get us tickets to any show you like.”

Ugh. The moment she’d been dreading. The moment she’d have to say goodbye to this man. This kind, caring, oh-you-could-get-under-my-skin-and-ruin-me man.

She smoothed the napkin on her lap. “Actually, I’m not free any night. I’m moving. Back to the US. Today.”

“Today?” he asked, eyes hooded in confusion. “You’re moving today?”

"I fly out this afternoon."

A sigh cut through the room. His disappointment had an almost physical presence. Like it had flopped down in one of the chairs and propped its feet up on the table, with plans to stay awhile. Natalie looked down and pushed her eggs around her plate for a moment. She peeked back at him, noting his drawn mouth and the lines of contemplation spread wide across his forehead.

“You absolutely have to fly out today? Like, you’re firm on that?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so.”

“So, asking you to stay one more night …”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Listen, if it’s a question of changing your ticket, I am more than happy to pay for a later flight.”

“It’s not that. I’m starting a new job. I’m meeting with the big boss in a couple of days—our first in-person face-to-face. I have a bajillion things to do as soon as I land.”

“A job in hospitality?”

She nodded. “My flat was packed up last week. I’ve been in a hotel finishing my last corporate event.”

Those forehead lines grew more pronounced as he slipped into deeper thoughts. After a moment, he said, “If I told you I have access to a private plane?”

A booming alarm sounded, one only she could hear, her thoughts and pulse racing against one another at breakneck speed.

You flew with Roman to Italy on a private plane once … and it’s taken years to recover from that one decision.

“As tempting and kind an offer as that is, I have to leave today.”

For the first time since meeting, an uncomfortable silence settled over them. Just the sounds of their silverware moving across their plates filled the air. Guilt landed a painful blow in the pit of her stomach. I should have told him I was moving right off the bat.

“This job’s pretty important to you then, huh?” he finally said.

“It is. It’s the kind of position that could catapult me to really big things. In fact, I’m banking on it because I’m launching my own company within the next year. I have a huge showcase planned with a lot of serious investors.”

Yes! Speak it into existence! You’re not hoping to, or looking to, or wishing to. It’s happening. You’re launching. Verb. Action word. Full stop.

He nodded, digesting this information. “Sounds like you’ve got it all mapped out.”