Page 21 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

“I’ve worked hard. And I’m on a strict timeline. There’s nothing in the world I want more.”

Mr. Crown fell silent for a few ticks. The slump of his shoulders matched his somewhat distraught expression. Her departure, a bombshell he hadn’t expected. After a moment, he mustered a smile and raised his mimosa to her.

“Well then, a toast is absolutely in order. To you, Amelia. From the bottom of my heart, I wish you every success and hope all your dreams come true.”

The rest of breakfast consisted of surface level talk, like they’d reset to those first few moments at Eddie’s pub. From red-hot lovers to casual acquaintances in two shakes of a sheep’s tail. Like the iron chandelier suspended above the table, tension in the room seemed just as heavy. When he caught her checking her watch, he shooed her back to the bedroom to dress while he cleaned up breakfast.

After making his bed and tidying up his bathroom, Natalie squeezed back into her jeans and pulled on her blouse– now a collection of wrinkles that screamed early morning walk-of-shame. She dropped down on all fours, searching beneath the chair and bed for her boots.

“Looking for these?” he called from the doorway, boots in hand.

Natalie stood. Her blouse hung open, revealing the lacy edge of her bralette. She took a couple of steps toward him and stopped, eyes widening with surprise.

“But how did you …” she began, her gaze centered on the once broken heel, now fully repaired.

“Let’s just say I know a guy.”

“You’ve got a 24-hour cobbler on speed-dial?”

He beamed, his first real smile since learning of her plans. “Somethin’ like that.”

She took the boots, inspecting the flawless repair. “Like it never even happened. This is magic. And next level thoughtfulness. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

He moved in half a step. Now their bodies were touching. His hand found bare skin beneath her open blouse.

"Stay with me,” he said, wearing a look that said, let’s jump back in that bed one more time.

“I can’t.”

“You can. I’ll move mountains to see that you get to your meeting on time. I just want a few more hours.”

As he moved a hand through the silky layers of her hair, her eyes fell closed, locking the moment in her memory. As much as she hated to say goodbye, their night would be just that—a crazy, wonderful memory.

"If I knew your name, I'd whisper it a thousand times, over and over until you couldn't stand it anymore. Let me have one more night with you. We'll go to dinner. We'll dance. We'll make love in every room. I want to fall asleep with you one more time."

He pressed his lips against her neck as his arms snaked around her waist. When he touched a certain spot near her ear, she let out a tiny moan.

“Is that a yes?” he whispered.

Hours earlier she might have said yes. Yes, I'll stay. Yes, we’ll get crazy in the kitchen. In the bathroom. On the pool table. But it was now time to give back the glass slipper and return to her orderly, planned out life.

Natalie pulled back and looked into his eyes. Eyes filled with longing and hope. Two years before, in the days before his inaugural race, Roman’s eyes had held a similar look.

“In another place in time, it would be a yes.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s exactly why I’m trying hard to convince you.”

“I like you. I mean it. But I’ve been burned, too. I made a huge sacrifice for someone once, one that tanked me professionally—to the point where I had to close my business. And all he could do was laugh it off. Now I’m not saying you’re anything like him. You’re not. But this time, I’m choosing me.”

Roman’s dismissal of her business failure had shattered her like a brick through a window. He’d literally laughed when devastating Google reviews poured in. Her dream of making Blaze a top London firm shriveled and died with one poor decision, and Roman shrugged it off as though she’d simply chipped a nail. A cautionary tale that tattooed itself to her core.

“This job is a second chance to chase my dream,” she added. “And true second chances don’t happen very often.”

“I understand.”

With a respectful nod, Mr. Crown dropped his arms, releasing her from his grip. Natalie sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled on her boots, emotions and convictions playing tug-o-war.