Page 122 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

Cecil stepped forward and hung his arm around Dash’s shoulder. “And it will be. We’re going to sit down at this beautiful table, listen to these fine musicians, eat some delicious food, tell some stories, enjoy the amazing company we have gathered here, and get drunker than Cooter Brown."

"I think I'll grab a cab back to the hotel, but I want y'all to stay. Enjoy the evening as a personal thank you from me—for even entertaining the thought of going on this wild goose chase."

He pressed the down arrow for the elevator. Miranda took a step toward him, but Cecil touched her arm and nudged her back, a look of warning on his face. The doors opened and Dash stepped inside, head hung in disappointment.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

NATALIE

"Natalie Powell," Cecil repeated her name. "Well, this is a call I certainly didn't expect. I believe this is what's called a plot twist."

"This may sound crazy, and you can certainly say no, but I'd like to make this plot a whole lot twistier–with your help, that is."

"That’s to be determined. Pulling a fast one on Miranda and Dash is no small feat."

Natalie gave a quick recap of her evening with his wife and the discovery of the texts. Though she didn't know all the particulars, she had a pretty good idea. Cecil confirmed her suspicions, howling with laughter when he learned that Natalie caught on to their plan.

"I wish I could tell you exactly what they're planning but I wasn't privy to any details. A Win Her Back party is all they said. Now what all that entails, I have absolutely no idea."

"Would you be interested in helping me give Dash and your delightful wife and my assistant a taste of their own medicine? Beat them to the punch, so to speak?"

Cecil fell silent for a moment and Natalie feared that maybe she'd crossed a line.

"A chance to throw a Texas-sized wrench in their perfect little plan? Nothing would thrill me more, my dear. The secret to a healthy marriage is keeping each other on your toes."

Natalie stared out the window of the car, mentally replaying her convo with Cecil. She'd hardly slept a wink the night before, stuck in a constant cycle of pillow flipping and clock checking, troubleshooting every detail of their plan. Right now, Cecil would be encouraging everyone to stay at the table, while letting Dash escape to lick his wounds. Still, her heart raced like one of her dad’s thoroughbreds.

"How'd I do?" Blaine asked. "Too much?"

Natalie beamed. "Are you kidding? You were perfect."

Their Uber pulled to a stop in front of Dash’s favorite Chicago watering hole. Cecil swore this would be the exact spot Dash would go to pout and ride out the rest of the night—alone. Now fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, Natalie had plenty of time to find a hiding spot inside the bar and await Dash’s entrance.

“Sir, give me one minute and then you can drive me to my final destination,” Blaine said to the driver, then followed Natalie out onto the sidewalk.

“No idea how I’m ever gonna thank you for this,” she said.

“No thanks necessary. What happens next?" Blaine asked.

"Cecil will text me when Dash bails.”

“You sure have a lot of faith and trust in this Cecil character.”

“He knows Dash better than anyone. They play cards together all the time. We're talking high-dollar poker. He says that when Dash goes all in on a huge bet and loses, he bails immediately."

Blaine looked up at the sign above the entrance of the bar. "And this is where you'll stage a little re-creation of your London meeting?"

"Exactly. Once Dash and I are together, I'll send Cecil a text and we'll meet back up with everyone at the restaurant."

Natalie's phone vibrated.

Cecil: Fox has cashed his chips. You're up, Rabbit.

Cecil: Actually, YOU’RE the fox now, lady. Good luck!

"Cecil said Dash just left." Natalie's voice cracked with excitement. “T-minus twenty minutes and counting.”

"What if he doesn't come here? There are a thousand bars in this town."