Page 108 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

The front door had no more closed when he turned and called out to his stepbrother.

"I’m officially screwed!" Dash hollered.

“What are you talking about?” Colt called back.

Dash returned to the kitchen and rehashed the entire soap opera—every crazy and sometimes painful thing he and Kate discussed. Colt listened without a single interruption as he polished off the last of the chile rellenos. Dash ended his monologue by posing a question—one short but complex question.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Colt remained silent as Dash cut himself a hefty slice of pecan pie. He then drained his glass of champagne. After wiping his mouth on a kitchen towel, he looked Dash in the eye.

"Kate’s right. You’ve gotta go after Natalie with everything you've got. Show her she can have it all—the career and the romance."

“And how exactly do you propose I do that?”

“She’s an event planner, right?”

“Yeah.”

Without missing a beat, Colt said, "So hire her to create the fanciest shindig Chicago has ever seen. Have all your family and friends there—a Win Her Back party."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

DASH

One Week Later

Briefcase in hand, Dash followed the hostess through the main dining room of the landmark steakhouse to Miranda’s regular table, tucked inside a niche in the back corner. The Blotto Grotto she liked to call it, as the walls within the nook housed hundreds of bottles of wine, floor to ceiling. Ironic, actually, as Miranda wasn’t a wine drinker.

"You're late," she stated as Dash brushed her cheek with a kiss.

"But I’m always worth the wait.” He eyed the highball glass on the table in front of her. “You're indulging a little early. It's not even noon."

"Whiskey has no set time, honey."

A server appeared and took their order. With back-to-back meetings on his afternoon schedule, Dash played it safe and ordered sweet tea, heavy on the sweet. They engaged in the usual small talk until their meals were delivered. After two bites, he cut right to the chase.

"I need your help," he announced.

Miranda took a sip of her drink, then locked on his eyes. "You know, when your stepbrother needs a favor, he butters me up with a little trinket of some kind. Last time, it was a darling charm from James Avery." She held up her right arm and shook the bracelet on her wrist.

"That's because he won't give you what you really want." From his briefcase, he removed two packs of Dunhills from her favorite tobacco shop in Rice Village. He pushed them across the table with a sly smile.

"I'm listening." Miranda dropped the cigarettes into her enormous designer handbag.

"What are your thoughts on parties?"

"I never say no to a good party."

"How long would you need to plan one? A good one? In Chicago?" he asked.

"That depends. What type of party and for whom?"

"A Win Her Back party … for Natalie."

She raised an eyebrow. "You want to throw a party to try and win back a woman who told you she moved on from you a few days ago?"

"It’s a gamble, I know, but I have full faith you can help me pull it off." He rummaged around in his briefcase and removed several items. "Don't worry, I'll make it worth your while. First-class travel, five-star hotel, limo-service on demand. I'll even throw in a new frock."