Page 16 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

Minutes later, Olivia slides into the seat Margot just vacated, her expression already bored. "This better be good. I was halfway through my latte."

"She’s acting weird," I say, setting my glass down.

Olivia raises a brow. "And you care because...?"

I shoot her a look. "Because if something’s throwing her off, I want to know what it is."

She hums, studying me. "You know, normal people would justaskwhat’s wrong instead of plotting some elaborate scheme."

"I did ask," I reply smoothly. "She lied. So now I have to find out another way."

Olivia sighs, shaking her head. "You really are insufferable. What’s your plan, Sherlock?"

I glance toward where Margot disappeared, my jaw tightening. "She’s protecting something. That means there’s a trail."

"So what, you’re going to hack her phone?"

I smirk. "No. But I am going to get closer."

Olivia groans. "Grayson, this is either going to end in you solving a mystery or getting your heart broken. And honestly? I can’t wait to watch."

I push back my chair, tossing a few bills on the table before standing. "We’ll see, Liv. We’ll see." Because if Margot thinks she can keep secrets from me, she’s about to find out just how wrong she is.

Later that night,I’m at the club with the guys, a drink in hand, trying to do what has always worked in the past, shutting off my mind, drowning out thoughts of work, distractions, and most of all,her. This should be easy. It always is. A couple of drinks, a few flirtatious conversations, and I can turn off the part of my brain that overthinks. But tonight? Nothing’s working. Every time I try to lose myself in the bass-heavy music or the warm burn of whiskey, my mind drifts back to Margot.

That unsettled look in her eyes. The way she held her phone like it might shatter in her grip. I came here to forget, to reset. But for the first time, it’s not working. It should be a typical night, loud music, overpriced whiskey, and the usual game of entertaining whatever women decide to approach. Except tonight? I’m not in the mood. I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, my mind miles away from the conversation happening at my table. Margot. Her guarded expression. The way her fingers clenched around her phone like it was a lifeline.

Natalie slides into the seat next to me, leaning in too close, her perfume sweet and cloying. "Haven’t seen you around much lately, Grayson. Thought you forgot about us."

I offer a half-hearted smirk, but it feels automatic. "Just busy."

She pouts, placing a hand on my thigh, her fingers pressing in just enough to make her intentions clear. "Too busy for a dance?"

Normally, I’d play along. Maybe even take her up on it. But instead, my eyes drift across the room, my thoughts tangled up inher. My dick seems to be disappointed as he twitches nervously.

"Not tonight," I say, surprising even myself.

"Damn. Who is she?" my friend Carter cuts in, smirking as he watches me pass up what would normally be an easy win.

I shoot him a look. "Who says it’s about a girl?" Ryan, another one of our friends, lets out a low laugh. "Because we know you. And the only time Grayson King turns down a sure thing is when his mind is already occupied."

I drain the rest of my whiskey, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. "You guys are idiots." But even as they tease, even as I try to shake it off, the truth lingers in the back of my mind. They’re not wrong. And that pisses me off even more.

Then my phone buzzes. I glance down, expecting some pointless notification, but instead, my stomach tightens at the name flashing across the screen.

Margot. It’s past midnight. She never calls me this late. Hell, she never calls me at all. Something is wrong. I answer immediately, my voice sharper than intended. "Margot?" There’s a pause. Then, finally, her voice comes through the line, soft, unsteady, and completely unlike her.

"Grayson... I think I need your help.

13

MARGOT

Ishouldn’t have called him. The second I hear Grayson’s voice, low, steady, sharp with something I can’t quite place, I regret it. Because this is Grayson. My rival. My competition. The last person I should be showing weakness to. But the moment the words leave my lips, there’s no taking them back.

"Grayson... I think I need your help." A beat of silence. Just long enough for my stomach to tighten, for second thoughts to claw at the edges of my brain. Then…

"Where are you?"

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