Page 116 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

NATALIE

Noah stood in the doorway of Natalie’s office. He pulled several sheets of paper from a folder and placed them on the desk.

"These need your initials as soon as you can give them a once-over. Also, your meeting with the floral designer has been pushed back to two.” Noah paused for a beat, an apprehensive look now clouding his features. “And there’s one more thing.”

"What?"

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news." He dropped one additional sheet in front of her. "But Mrs. Everett has canceled."

Right on time, Mr. Barton. God, it's almost too easy.

Fake emotional outburst, take one. Action!

"What the hell? She can't be serious," Natalie protested as she took the page and pretended to read it, Noah watching her like a hawk. "I spent hours with the woman, Noah. Hours! And now she's changed her mind?"

"A client’s prerogative, unfortunately, without a signed contract in hand. I've put a few feelers out and as far as I know she hasn't contacted the competition."

A few feelers? Oh, Noah, you little liar, you.

"She didn't even wait for my proposal. I spent hours I don't have on this. I’m finalizing the moodboards as we speak."

"If you ask me, it's a blessing in disguise. You don't have an unscheduled minute in your life right now."

"I can't believe she outright canceled. I thought we had an amazing rapport. Does Otto know?"

"If he does, he hasn't said a word to me."

Natalie's mind whirled with the thrill of deception. "I've got to call her. There's no way she could have changed her mind. She was rock solid at the restaurant—so much so that I actually had to rein her in. She tried to steer this engagement party straight into Oscar Night after-party territory, swag-bags and all."

"Give me a minute and I'll see if I can find her number," Noah offered.

Right, you sneaky little shit. You've got Miranda Everett on speed dial—probably Dash too.

Noah returned in seconds, a bright orange Post-it note in hand, bearing Miranda's number.

"Maybe the happy couple called off the engagement or whatever it was," he suggested. "Wouldn't be the first time it's happened."

She reached for the phone. "Only one way to find out."

Noah flashed a thumbs up sign before retreating from her office. A cat-like grin on her lips, she mentally prepared her script, then placed the call.

"Miranda Everett," the woman answered.

"Hi, Mrs. Everett, it's Natalie Powell with Soiree in Chicago. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."

"Goodness, no. In fact, I was about to call you."

"Is everything okay? My assistant shared your email with me."

"No, no, everything's fine, honey. Once I got home and really started to think about it, maybe a big fancy party isn't the way to go. I don't think Amy is the big elaborate party type. The last thing I want to do is scare the poor girl off. And Thom most certainly wouldn't want that."

"We did plan quite a festival, didn't we?"

"Nobody loves over-the-top more than yours truly, but I got caught up between the martinis and the chocolate cake and all your incredible ideas. I hate that I wasted your time."

"Maybe we don't have to throw in the towel yet. With a few changes, we could keep the same venue but make it a much more intimate party."

"How intimate are you thinking?" Miranda questioned, her tone suddenly more enthusiastic.