Page 59 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

She’s exactly thirty five minutes late.Classic Isabella. Dressed in all black, form-fitting jumpsuit, oversized sunglasses perched on her head, she looks every bit the Hollywood icon she is, the kind of woman who can command a room without saying a single word. She pulls off her sunglasses dramatically, tucking them into her bag before flicking her gaze over Cassian with thinly veiled disdain.

“Laurent,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement.

Cassian doesn’t even look up from his drink. “Monroe.”

Grayson mutters under his breath, “I swear to God, these two weremortal enemiesin a past life.”

I ignore him, stepping between them before this turns into another public feud. “Alright, ground rules. No insults, no dramatics, andnostorming out.”

Isabella smirks, tossing her bag onto Cassian’s pristine white leather couch. “No promises.”

Cassian sighs, swirling his whiskey lazily. “Can we get this over with?”

I fold my arms, refusing to let this spiral out of control. “You’re here because youbothneed to resolve whatever this ridiculous feud is before it escalates further. Your public bickering is a distraction, and it’s makingPerfectly Matchedlook unprofessional.”

Isabella scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “I’mnotthe problem here. Cassian is the one who…”

Cassian cuts her off smoothly. “I’mwhat? More rational? Less prone to childish tantrums?”

She gasps, placing a hand over her heart like he just insulted her entire lineage. “Oh,please.You areliterallythe most frustrating man on the planet.”

Grayson leans over to me, his voice low. “I’m honestly shocked neither of them has committed homicide yet.”

I exhale, barely resisting the urge to rub my temples. “Enough. You don’t have to like each other, but youdohave to respect this process.”

Cassian lifts a brow. “And if we don’t?”

Grayson leans forward, his tone deceptively light. “Then we make your lives miserable.”

Isabella sighs dramatically, flopping onto Cassian’s pristine couch like she owns the place. “Fine. I’llconsiderbeing civil.”

Cassian smirks. “That’s the best we’ll get.”

I glance at Grayson, and despite the absolute circus unfolding before us, I can tell he’s enjoying himself. His lips twitch, that signature amused expression playing across hisface as he watches Cassian and Isabella go at, it like it’s free entertainment. I cross my arms, ignoring the way my stomach flutters when Grayson’s fingers graze the small of my back as he leans down slightly, lowering his voice so only I can hear.

“We should’ve sold tickets to this,” he murmurs. “We’d make a fortune.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Focus,King.”

He smirks. “I am focused.”

I roll my eyes, turning back to Cassian and Isabella. “Listen, this little war of yours is officially over. From now on, you’re both playing nice. No more public feuds, no more social media shade, and definitely no moreaccidentalmedia leaks.”

Isabella pouts. “You’re taking all the fun out of this.”

Cassian exhales. “Trust me, Monroe, I amjustas eager for this to be over.”

I straighten. “Good. Because after this, we have much bigger problems to deal with.”

Grayson meets my gaze, the weight of Eleanor’s impending attack lingering between us. We don’t have time for distractions. For now, we focus on the mess in front of us, and hope we still have time to stop the one coming next.

42

GRAYSON

Ibarely get a moment to breathe before stepping into another battle. The second Margot and I leave Cassian’s penthouse, reality crashes back into me with full force. Eleanor is moving faster than we anticipated. The press is already running stories that hint at an impending leadership change atPerfectly Matched, and Isabella and Cassian’s ongoing feud remains a PR disaster waiting to explode. I grip the steering wheel tightly as we weave through city traffic, my mind running through every possible counter move. The tension sits heavy in my chest, a constant reminder that time is slipping through our fingers.

Beside me, Margot scrolls through her phone, her expression unreadable. When she finally speaks, her voice is sharp and controlled, but I know her well enough to recognize the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

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