Page 24 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

Natalie sent the photo and waited for her sister’s assessment.

“Yeah, a photographer you are not. He looks tall. Is he tall?”

“Well over six feet.”

“What was he drinking?” Kate asked.

“Why do you always ask that?

"Because cocktails reveal character.”

When Natalie huffed, Kate added, “But I guess it doesn’t matter now. Looks like the mysterious Mr. Crown will remain a mystery.”

Warmth settled in her chest as she recalled those first few moments, sitting side by side at the pub, getting drunk on his smile. His every line, whisper cool. The ultimate shot of Crown.

“I guess he will,” Natalie conceded, staring at the shadowy photo.

Her hotel room phone never rang. She didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. Mr. Crown had carved out a sizable niche in her mind, lingering there all morning. A clear, crisp image, unlike the botched photo. Scenes from their magical night held while she waited to check out of the hotel.

"Everything satisfactory?" asked the front desk clerk.

"It was, thank you." She placed her credit card on the counter.

He pushed the card back. "A gentleman named Crown settled your account. He also arranged a car for you.”

Natalie blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

He pointed to a silver Lincoln Town Car with heavily tinted windows parked at the door. “And there’s one more thing.” He placed an envelope on the counter. Her room number, written in large print across the front. She couldn't help but smile at the tiny airplane he'd drawn on the corner, a dotted line off the tail signifying its in-flight position.

He was here? He was HERE?

Natalie snatched up the envelope, thanked the clerk, and practically sprinted outside. She sank into the roomy backseat, tearing into the envelope before the driver finished loading her bags in the trunk. Inside, a handwritten note. She heard his accent as she read, her stomach knotting up like a Cirque du Soleil contortionist.

My dearest Ms. Earhart,

You’ve seen your share of Ubers over the last twenty-four hours. I thought you might enjoy something a little more plush to take you to the airport. A woman like you deserves plush.

I hope you’ll change your mind about leaving today. Use this code to access the main entry of my building, as well as the private elevator to my apartment: 041770

Let a gentleman steal you away for one more night.

Always,

Thomas Crown

Ambassador Tower, London

Her pulse spiked as the car pulled away. London blurred past her window while her options fought it out in her mind.

If you stay, he’ll wine and dine your socks off. Charter a private plane for you. Make you feel like the only woman in the world.

But …

What if the magic was just a 24-hour thing? What if he couldn't get her back in time? What if the private plane thing was just wishful thinking? What if she wasn’t the only woman?

Doesn’t matter. You’re not looking to be anyone’s woman.

But if she were, he’d be the one.