Page 14 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

Grayson:That’s adorable. See you soon.

I toss my phone onto my desk and grab my jacket. If she thinks I’m letting her set the rules, she’s about to be very disappointed. Let the games begin.

I picka restaurant that I know will throw her off balance, a sleek, intimate rooftop spot downtown, the kind of place that toes the line between business andsomething else. It’s exclusive,upscale, the type of setting that makes it impossible to ignore the tension in the air. If Margot is expecting a casual, forgettable lunch, she’s about to be in for a surprise. By the time I arrive, she’s already there, standing near the entrance, arms crossed. The moment she sees me, her eyes narrow.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," she says, looking up at the restaurant’s name glinting in gold lettering.Celeste."This is where you’re taking me?"

I smirk, handing my keys to the valet. "What, too fancy for you? I figured you had standards." I tease.

She exhales sharply, but follows me inside, her heels clicking against the marble floor. The host greets us immediately and leads us to a private balcony table overlooking the city skyline. It’s the kind of spot reserved forpower players, or, in this case, two people trying to outmaneuver each other. She sits first, smoothing down her dress before folding her hands on the table, eyes locked onto mine. "Let’s skip the theatrics. Why are we here, Grayson?"

I take my time, settling into my seat. "Can’t a man treat his business partner to lunch?"

She snorts. "You don’t do anything without an agenda. So what is it? Trying to throw me off my game? Distract me?"

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. "Maybe I just wanted to see you squirm."

Her lips press together. "Not going to happen."

The waiter appears, handing us menus, and I watch as Margot pointedly ignores me, flipping through hers as if this is just another work lunch. But I know better. I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she’stoofocused on the words in front of her. I let the silence stretch, smirking when she finally gives in and looks up. "Seriously, Grayson. What’s your play?"

I swirl my glass of water, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, I already made my move."

She tilts her head, skepticism flashing in her eyes. "What does that mean?"

I tap the side of my glass, watching her closely. "You’ll find out soon enough."

Her eyes flicker with something unreadable before she leans back in her chair, exhaling. "Fine. Keep your little secrets. But just so you know, I have a move of my own coming. And when it lands, you won’t see it coming."

I chuckle, amused. "That’s what I like about you, Evans. You never back down."

She lifts her glass in a mock toast. "And I never lose."

Our glasses clink, the sound sharp against the quiet hum of the restaurant. Then, just as the waiter returns to take our orders, Margot’s phone buzzes on the table. She glances down, and her expression shifts, just slightly, but enough for me to notice. It’s the first crack in her armor. Her fingers tighten around the phone, knuckles whitening, and for a split second, I see something flicker in her eyes. Surprise? Frustration?Panic? She swipes her thumb over the screen, scanning the message, and whatever she sees makes her inhale sharply before she quickly flips the phone over, screen down. Like she doesn’t want me to see. Like she needs to hide it. Interesting.

I lean back, my smirk widening. "Something wrong, sweetheart?"

She glares at me, but there’s something else now, something unsettled. A hesitation.She wasn’t expecting this and just like that, I know I’ve won this round. Except, for the first time, I’m not entirely sure what game we’re playing anymore, because Margot Evans doesn’t rattle easily and whatever’s on that phone? It rattled her.

11

MARGOT

The message on my phone feels like a punch to the gut. I keep my expression neutral, my fingers tightening around the device as I flip it over, screen down. Grayson is watching me. I can feel it, the weight of his gaze, the barely contained curiosity radiating off him like heat.

I force my lips into a smirk, tilting my head. "Enjoying the show, King?"

He leans back in his chair, swirling his water with lazy amusement. "I don’t know. That depends. Are you about to crack under pressure? Because that would be entertaining."

I scoff, reaching for my wine glass. "Please. You wish."

He watches me closely, eyes sharp. "Then what’s with the death grip on your phone, sweetheart?"

I sip my wine, ignoring the way my pulse is still racing. Don’t let him see. That’s the number one rule when dealing with Grayson. Never let him catch a moment of weakness.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?" I purr, setting my glass down with deliberate slowness.

He smirks, but there’s something calculating behind it. "I would, actually."

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