Page 5 of Daring Destiny

At the end of the drive is a clearing where a sprawling, modern prairie-style home takes center stage. It sits on two acres and the juxtaposition is incredible. The road to the house feels like you’re in the middle of the wilderness but as we emerge, everything opens up. Full waterfront access lined with manicured lawns and sleek stone walkways.

We get out and I lead them up the intricate chevron-patterned driveway and glance over at Connor, who used to run his family’s construction company before he was a rockstar. Sure enough, he’s impressed.

“Jaysus, this is something else.” Connor runs his hands along the heavy steel panels embedded into the old-growth wood front door. It’s twice as tall as he is, and he’s agiant. “I’ve never seen workmanship so beautiful.”

“Everything you’ll see is custom. From the finishes to the paint. There’s nothing in this house you could buy off the shelf.” I unlock the door and step aside so they can get the whole effect.

The second Ronni crosses the threshold, I know it’s a done deal. “Astrid, this place is incredible,” she gushes, her eyes wide with excitement. “I can’t wait to see the rest.”

“Let’s do it.” I launch into my practiced spiel, guiding them through the house.

It takes about an hour to show the entire place and point out all the incredible features. The foyer leads into a sun-drenched living area, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a front-row view of the lake. I make sure to emphasize the modern, open-concept design, the custom stone fireplace and the chef’s kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances.

Connor stays a few steps behind me, he scans the space with a critical eye. I’m unbothered, though. I expected a high-level scrutiny from a prior professional.

Ronni, on the other hand, wears her emotions on her sleeve. Her delight is infectious and I find myself unexpectedly warming to her. She’s down-to-earth in a surprising way, given her uber-celebrity status.

It’s easy to see how she and Connor make such a terrific pair. Her sweetness balances his intensity. They move in synchronicity and you can tell they’re deeply in love.

They’re #relationshipgoals for sure.

“Astrid, tell me this. Will the owners sell the furniture and art with the property?” We’re at the end of the tour and Connor glances around the impressive “whiskey” room, which is more like an old-time gentleman’s lounge.

I pretend to type a text into my phone. “Let me check. Do you have any other questions for them about this property?”

Connor and Ronni give each other “the look” and he takes her hand. “Nah. Astrid, love. I think this might be the place for us.”

“Spectacular.” I finish my pretend text without looking at him.

“As we mentioned, we’re all-cash buyers,” Ronni jumps in nervously.

Now’s the time to secure the sale. Operation “make it seem unattainable.”

“There’s one thing to discuss. As you may have heard from Jason Deveraux, I pride myself on my ability to be discreet.” I lean forward on my elbows and deliberately make eye contact with both of them as I name-drop Seattle’s biggest tech billionaire, who happens to be the father of Connor’s bandmate—and the man who referred them to me.

Ronni leans back in her chair. So does Connor.

He glances between us. “Go on.”

“How do you intend on purchasing this property?” I look directly at Ronni, who’s been in the news quite a bit lately.

Ronni, clearly uncomfortable, tucks her hair behind her ears. “Why do you ask?”

“Privacy. The residents in Hunts Point are scandal-averse.” Occasionally I look at Connor, but I know Ronni’s the most vulnerable on this subject. “You’re both well-known in your own professions and have rabid fan bases. The residents here shy away from, well, controversy. If you were to look up property records, most of the homeowners here hold their property in an undetectable LLC or a family trust. If you haven’t set up one yet, we likely won’t get through the Homeowners Association approval before this place sells.”

Of course, I already know they have a property trust set up, but my purpose for bringing it up was to make sure they realize their neighbors share their dedication to privacy. This little tidbit is going to seal the sale.

Visibly, Ronni relaxes. “We do, and it’s a relief to hear our potential neighbors feel the same way. We want to raise our kids in a quiet, secure location.”

“Aye.” Connor nods. “This place is perfect. I’m excited for us to have a water view again. It helps us escape from the madness of our lives.”

I can’t contain my smile and pretend to glance at my phone. “Oh, cool! I heard back from the owners. They’re willing to sell the furniture. Should we write up an offer?”

Half hour later, over lunch at John Howie Steak, we celebrate the sale. As we finish up, I decide to broach a topic which might cross a “discreet” boundary I religiously live by.

“Would you mind if I asked you a somewhat personal question, Connor?” I pull out my black AMEX to pay the bill.

His eyebrows raise. “Uh, I’m not making any statements about the status of my band.”

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