Page 109 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

"Dash, honey, you can't be serious?" she said, gently touching his arm.

He’d never been more serious. When Colt suggested tricking Natalie into planning a party where she’d be guest of honor, Dash immediately shot it down. “Too outrageous, even for me,” he’d told his stepbrother. But the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. It played directly to Mr. Crown’s character. After running the idea past Kate (who helped him concoct the perfect plan, even going so far as to recruit Noah and get Foster’s approval), he went all in.

He pushed a piece of paper in front of Miranda, then tapped the first printed line. "Call this number tonight. Ask for Noah. He's expecting your call and will fill you in on all the details. His running point on this deal, not me. Whatever he says, goes. I had my travel agent book your flight, first-class, round trip. You’re staying at your favorite hotel and have carte blanche on room service."

Miranda pushed her glasses up on her nose and inspected the page. “First-class? Room service? So far, so good. Continue.”

Dash dropped a business card next. "A man named Vonn from Celebrity Chauffeurs will be your driver. He'll be waiting for you at O'Hare and will be on call for you twenty-four-seven. Call him anytime.”

“My own driver? For a two-night stay? My goodness, you are serious.”

“You’ll have your business meeting at that one restaurant you’ve been dying to try.”

Miranda’s eyebrow arched a second time. “Babette? You got us a table at Babette?”

“Don’t ask me how, but I did and it’s done. The reservation is under your name, but they have my credit card on file, so you and Natalie order whatever you like. I’ve heard their pork loin with plums and polenta is fantastic."

He placed a menu from the upscale Chicago eatery on top of the stack.

"Or you could just call her," she suggested.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"I know impetuous is your middle name, but I think you're playing a little beyond the fray here. This is too bold, hon, even by your standards."

"You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take. And it's headstrong."

"What's headstrong?" she asked.

"My middle name, same as yours."

Dash smiled and raised his glass. Miranda did the same. Together they toasted their plan.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

NATALIE

Noah poked his head into Natalie's office, waving a file folder. "Your four-thirty is waiting in reception. Shall I bring her back or would you like to go and greet her?"

"Otto said she asked for me by name, so she gets the full treatment. I'll escort her back. You know I have zero minutes in my schedule for this client, right? I’ve been on the phone dealing with Terrace Oak all day, trying to figure out who’s covering the cost of the musicians’ equipment. And I still need to approve Hannah Hunt’s article."

"Can’t think about Natalie & Co right now. You’re on Soiree time."

Natalie pushed away from her desk and pulled her jacket from the back of her chair. "It's Mrs. Everett, correct?"

Noah flipped open the folder and gave the contents a quick scan. "Yes. Mrs. Miranda Everett," he said with a heavy southern accent.

"Anniversary party?"

"No. A surprise party for her son and his fiancée. From what's been reported by a reliable source, Mrs. Everett comes from old Texas money. Very old in fact,” he emphasized.

"So, leave no design stone unturned?"

"Our yearly bonuses may very well depend on your artistic tenacity." He held the file out to her.

"Consider it done.” She snatched the folder from Noah’s hand. “This year, we're getting hella big checks."

Natalie walked down the hall to reception, mentally preparing her welcome speech and general small talk. When she rounded the corner, she stopped cold. A dead ringer for Helen Mirren, this potential client stood and flashed a prideful smile as she extended her hand.