Page 62 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

Noah poked his head into Natalie’s office. "I think we have a problem."

She closed her copy of Nashville Now. “Hey, I was just about to text you. I'm grabbing lunch. What’s up?"

He stepped inside and closed the door. "Actually, you might not have much of an appetite when you see this." He slid a white invitation across her desk.

"What's this?" she asked, skimming it. “A charity gala? I didn’t know you were going.”

"I'm not. You are." His brows lifted. “Otto isn’t requesting your presence. He’s insisting."

Natalie's face turned from relaxed and cheerful to irritated and gloomy as she read.

“I’m flying to Nashville tomorrow night, you know that. Can you email his assistant and see if someone else …” Natalie’s words trailed off as she watched Noah shake his head.

"Did Anne Hathaway say no to Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada? No one tells Otto no."

"Yes, I know, but–"

He held up one hand. “Otto expects a full report first thing Monday morning, all the way down to the size of the shrimp. Spying is practically a commandment around here.”

Ethereal Events. Soiree’s main competitor. Her boss wrangled invitations to their biggest bookings. Of course, the man himself wouldn’t be caught dead making an appearance, because how would that look? No, he secretly sent his minions.

“I’m not even flying back until Monday night,” Natalie argued.

Noah’s mouth tilted in sympathy. Natalie glanced at the cover of Nashville Now—a cover that could one day be hers. The spark inside her flickered.

Noah folded his arms. “I guess we can tell Otto we’ve been secretly working right under his nose on your big showcase, laying the groundwork so you can launch your own firm.”

Her eyes and mouth turned down simultaneously. “You know I can’t do that.”

“No, you can’t. As much as we believe this showcase is going to be a success, there’s still a chance you might not find an investor. You need to keep Otto happy for now.”

Natalie’s chest filled. Her growly exhale filled the room.

He’s right. Again.

Dammit.

Noah leaned against her desk. “Here's the good news. I think I've figured out a way to make it worth your while."

She arched her brow. "You've lined up Daniel Craig to be my escort?"

"No. Better. Two words: Blaine Sheridan.”

Natalie groaned. "Not this again. His contacts are useless if he doesn’t show up.”

“He had emergency surgery, Nat. It’s not like he was ghosting you.”

“It doesn’t matter because I’m dating Hart."

Saying it out loud startled her with how good it felt. Syncing their schedules had been a challenge, but phone calls and flirty texts filled in the gaps. For now, it worked.

She tapped the invitation on her desk. "I'd ask him to go with me, but he has a speaking engagement tomorrow night."

"Come on, Nat. Please let me call Blaine, just to do a little preemptive recon. He goes to events like this all the time, so he might be there," Noah begged. "Probably dressed like a stag or a lion, all confident and fierce."

She narrowed her eyes. "I’m sorry, what?"

Noah winced. “Okay, now don't freak, but … it's a masquerade ball."