32. Natalie
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."
Natalie began to wring her hands, then forced herself to stop. A bridge she'd cross if she needed to, saying, "Then I'm in for a very long night of bar-hopping."
"I have to admit that I feel bad deceiving Noah the way we did. I haven't seen him in a while and the first thing out of my mouth is a lie."
"You know you're never gonna make it in politics with a conscience like that," Natalie teased.
"He's grown up a lot. He's been working out too, hasn't he? He was never that ripped as a kid."
"He's addicted to Peloton. He's on that damn bike six days a week. You should join him—when you've been fully cleared by your doctor, I mean."
"It's certainly paid off. He looks good. Damn good."
Natalie bit her bottom lip. "I told you, you wouldn't be disappointed."
"And you're sure he's not seeing anyone right now?"
"I promise, he's one hundred percent available. Give him a call."
Blaine nodded, his expression happy and confident. He pulled Natalie into a light, warm embrace. When they broke apart, he said, "These have been the most oddly entertaining minutes of my life. I wish I'd reached out to you right after the blind date that never was."
"You had an emergency appendectomy! It's definitely an excused absence. I'm impressed you're up and around this soon. I was down forever after my surgery."
"I should have been honest with Noah about my dating preferences from the start, but he was insistent we meet."
"Believe me, I totally understand—and he will too. Your family is high-profile. You're dipping a toe into big political waters. Only you know what's truly best for you. You'll address your private life when you're ready."
Blaine smiled. "I hope this Mr. Crown knows how lucky he is."
"Well, that's the plan."
They shared another hug before he climbed back into the car. She pulled her phone out, eager to see if Cecil had anything to add, but found no new messages.
Oh, to be a fly on the glass wall at Anton's! I bet Noah is cussing my name up one side and down the other.
Natalie pushed her way through the bar. Patrons were stacked shoulder to shoulder, all vying for the bartender’s attention.
She squeezed into a tiny round top table in the far corner near the kitchen, her view of the main door somewhat obstructed by a large brick pillar.
She wanted to see him before he saw her, which wouldn’t be a problem with a crowd this thick.
With each swing of the door, she sucked in her breath, anticipating the moment their eyes would meet. She checked her watch again.
Chill out! Order a drink. He’s still at least ten minutes away—maybe more with traffic.
Several couples stood swaying to a string of slow songs on a tiny dance floor in the opposite corner.
She watched as their bodies melted into one another.
Natalie's mind raced, the entire scene sensual and so reminiscent of her moments in Dash's arms at Three Raps.
She'd known it from the moment he'd first taken her hand.
It would never be slow or methodical. It would be hurried.
Rushed. The need to feel his body and be a part of him would never wait for a tender build-up.
She'd always want him and hopefully, he'd always want her.
There'd be no waiting … because white-hot never waits.
Her eyes shifted frantically from her phone to the door, as anxiety and the need to pee grew.
Well? Are you gonna sit here and wet your pants?
I should have asked Cecil to track him on Find My.
If you’re gonna go, go now!
She hustled through the crowd and down a small hallway on the opposite side of the bar. Thankfully, the restroom stood empty, so she made it out in record time. She weaved her way back toward her table, eyes darting around in search of Dash. She made another time check and did some mental figuring.
He should be walking through the door any minute.
Natalie looked over at her table, now occupied by four dudes. She turned toward the bar and found it more crowded than when she entered. Not a single open barstool. Her mouth melted in a frown.
Shit! There are bars all over this damn city. Why is everyone at this one?!
Maybe Dash saw the crowd and bolted?
Should I wait outside??
She whipped around toward the main door, colliding with the last person she ever expected to see.
His eyes widened. "Natalia?"
"Roman?"
You. Have. Got. To. Be. Effing. Kidding. Me.
"You look surprised," he said.
"Shocked is more like it," she answered.
He reached out and touched her arm. “This makes twice in how many days? Can I buy you a drink?"
"I doubt your wife would like that." Her sarcastic tone cut like a razor.
"I'm here with a couple of racing buddies. What about you?"
Natalie craned her neck around Roman's large frame, praying her eyes met Dash's. "I'm meeting someone. He should be here any minute."
"I'd like to meet him. Let me buy the two of you a drink."
"I don't think so."
"One little drink? For old time’s sake? Surely you can make time for an old friend."
“You and I are not friends.”
Roman’s gaze ran up and down the length of her body. "He must be treating you well. You look more beautiful than ever."
He reached out and stroked her shoulder.
Clearly he'd had quite a bit to drink. Her mind searched for something to say. Something polite and ladylike but she found no such words. Hundreds of vulgar, offensive comebacks came to mind. He’d ruined her career.
Poisoned her level of trust. Treated her like one of his racing trophies.
He's not worth it, Nat. Not even close.
She dropped her shoulder and his hand fell away.
Without wasting another breath on this asshole, she pushed by him and continued to the entrance.
She grabbed hold of the door handle and swung it open with all her force, coming face to face with the tall, dark, and handsome object of her deepest desire.
His face ran through a gamut of expressions.
First, confusion. Then shock. Then, the smile.
That lethal smile that killed and revived her multiple times in London.
But ultimately, confusion circled back. He looked past her, eyeing the crowd.
It took every ounce of strength she possessed to not jump into arms and kiss him into oblivion.
“There’s no one else. It’s just me,” she said, her heart beating a post fifty-yard dash level.
“I don’t understand,” Dash began. “What are you … I mean, Noah said you were out with some guy named Blaine.”
Several customers jostled between them. Natalie took him by the hand and pulled him away from the door.
“I couldn’t let you have all the fun with your Win her Back party, could I?”
“You knew?” he asked, his tone raised in disbelief. “Who told you? And how’d you know I’d be at this bar?”