Page 57 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

Margot groans. “Of course she did.”

Cassian continues, completely unfazed. “So, here’s the deal, I refuse to let her fire me, but Idoneed her to stop throwing drinks at me. I’m assumingoneof you will fix this.”

Margot and I exchange a look. We don’t have time for this. But Cassian and Isabella are too high-profile to ignore, and if we screw up their matchmaking, it’ll be another hit toPerfectly Matched’scredibility, something Eleanor wouldloveto use against us.

Margot exhales. “Fine. Set up a meeting with Isabella. We’ll handle it.”

Cassian chuckles. “Looking forward to it.”

He hangs up before we can respond.

Margot drops into her chair, rubbing her temples. “I swear to God, if these two don’t stop being a walking PR disaster…”

I smirk. “You’re the one who took them on.”

She glares at me. “You wereright therewhen I did.”

I chuckle, and for a moment, just a moment, it feels like us again. Then reality crashes back in. I clear my throat. “We need to focus on Eleanor.”

Margot straightens, all business again. “Agreed. We need to get to Daniel before she solidifies his support.”

I nod. “Then let’s do it.”

Margot shouldn’t be here,in my penthouse. She knows it. I know it. But after spending the entire day fighting battles on all sides, after dealing with Eleanor’s games, Daniel Whitmore’s looming threat, and Cassian and Isabella’scomplete inability to be normal humans, we ended up here, together. The tension is thick, crackling between us like a live wire. She’s standing in my living room, looking unsure for the first time inforever. I don’t move. I don’t say a word. Because if I do, I won’t be able to stop myself.

Her gaze flicks to my lips. I see it. She swallows hard. “We should talk about…”

I move. One step and then another. Until she’s backed against the wall, her breath hitching, her fingers gripping the edge of my shirt.

“Grayson…”

I cut her off. And this time, neither of us stops.

41

MARGOT

Last night, for a moment, time stopped for Grayson and me, and the space between us vanished, replaced by nothing but lust and desire. But it was more than just heat, it was something raw and real. Love, quiet and certain. Now, in the clear light of morning, we’re back in the fight, side by side. We’re tired, both of us. Tired of Eleanor’s games, of the endless maneuvering, of always being one step behind a woman who never plays fair. There are bruises we don’t talk about, on our pride, our patience, maybe even our hearts. But quitting? That’s never been on the table.

BecausePerfectly Matchedisn’t just a company. It’s part of us. It’s where we met, where our stories first tangled together. Where eye rolls turned into lingering glances, and banter into something softer. It’s late nights and early mornings, coffee-fueled brainstorming sessions and inside jokes only we understand. It’s every win and every failure that shaped who we are, not just as professionals, but as people. As partners. So yes, we’re tired. But we’re not giving up. Not on this company. Not on each other. Not on love.

I give Grayson’s hand a gentle squeeze, steadying, warm, just for him. He glances at me, and I meet his eyes with a look that says we’ve got this. We walk into the conference room where Olivia is already waiting, flipping through a thick stack of media reports. She doesn’t even look up as we enter, just drops the file onto the table with a dramatic thud.

“Well,” Olivia says dryly, “on the bright side, Isabella hasn’t burned anything down yet.”

Grayson raises an eyebrow as he pulls out a chair. “I feel like ‘yet’ is doing a lot of heavy lifting there.”

Olivia exhales. “She’s threatening to leavePerfectly Matchedunless we find her arealmatch, but hervery publictantrum about the industry being ‘full of cowards who can’t handle an independent woman’ has already gone viral.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Please tell me she didn’t say thatword for word.”

Olivia sighs. “Unfortunately,yes. She posted anentirerant on Instagram Live about how ‘men these days are about as exciting as tax season’ and how she’d rather marry herself than settle for ‘a rich, bland robot.”’

Grayson smirks. “I assume Cassian took that personally.”

Olivia snorts. “Oh, absolutely. He responded withinminutes.”

I groan. “Do I even want to know what he said?”

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