Page 32 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

The place, packed with people, hummed with espresso machines and chatter. Noah stuffed his gloves in his jacket pockets.

“You bought last time. My treat today. Americano with a splash of cream?” he asked.

Natalie eyed the long glass pastry case. “Yes, please. And one of those.” She pointed to a huge golden croissant.

“Oooh, me too. Quick—grab that table!”

Natalie spun around just as two college-age girls bundled up to leave. The moment they stepped away, she pounced, wiping down the table with napkins they’d left behind.

Noah stood in line, scrolling on his phone. Watching him, Natalie felt the familiar tug of gratitude. What luck in landing such a remarkable assistant at Soiree. Their friendship had grown into something like the brother she never had. Noah Barton was an absolute gem. She hadn’t made a showcase-related move without his input.

He returned with their coffees and slid hers across the table. “Don’t look now, but gorgeous guy near the door. Navy peacoat.”

Discreetly, she leaned to peer around him. “For you … or for me?”

“Pour moi. You’ve made it clear you’re off the market.”

“I’m already in a committed relationship. Speaking of …” She pulled out her event planning bible—an overstuffed leather notebook—and dropped it on the table with a theatrical thud. Colorful Post-it notes fanned out like peacock plumage.

Noah sighed dramatically. “You promised no work today.”

With a twist of her hand, she secured her hair up into a bun. “I promised no Soiree work. Natalie & Co never sleeps.”

Noah groaned as she flipped to her most updated to-do list.

She clapped her hands together. “Now then, let’s talk about the showcase.”

The sneer he’d worn seconds before morphed into a sly grin. He took another sip of coffee.

“What?” she asked with a wary tone.

“We got them.”

“Got who?”

“The jazz trio.”

“The triplets from Vanderbilt? With 100K followers on Instagram? Noah! Oh my God!”

Natalie shot out of her seat, engulfing Noah in the tightest hug. He quickly peeled her off, reprimanding her back to her chair while glancing toward the peacoat guy.

“Chill. Someone might think we’re a couple.”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news …” Natalie pointed to the door right as it closed behind the guy.

Noah turned back and shrugged. “Short-lived romance.”

Natalie grinned. “Back to business. Why did you wait to tell me? You know I’ve been hella stressed after the last group canceled.”

“I literally just got the email when I was in line. Blame Mr. Peacoat for the distraction.”

Natalie scribbled excitedly. With three months until the showcase, she’d crossed almost everything off her to-do list, thanks to her nonstop hustle and Noah’s wizardry. They agreed on every design element for the big bash, except one.

He tore off a piece of croissant. “Where are you on the centerpieces?”

It had been their single point of contention. Noah leaned toward showy. Natalie craved understated—something that felt more like her dad. They’d traded hundreds of screenshots of potential floral designs but had yet to have a shared a-ha moment.

She braced herself, palms flat on the table. “I’ve made my decision. Want to see the inspo pic?”