Page 65 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Too bad, because we’re about to find out.”

Isabella slides into the seat across from Cassian with anaggressiveamount of dramatic flair, practically tossing herself into the chair with a sigh. Cassian, in contrast, moves with deliberate ease, settling into his chair like he has all the time in the world.

Eleanor raises a perfectly manicured brow. “Is there a reason we are being graced with the presence of Mr. Laurent and Miss Monroe this morning?”

Cassian simply reaches for his coffee. “I was invited.”

Isabella huffs. “I wasn’t. I justneededto be here to personally inform you all that I willneverbe speaking to this man again.”

Cassian finally looks at her, one corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. “That’s what you said last night. And yet, here we are.”

I blink. Grayson stiffens beside me. Wait. Last night? Before I can ask, Isabella dramatically whips off her sunglasses and points a finger at Cassian like he’s theabsolute bane of her existence.

“You lied to me,” she declares.

Cassian lifts a slow, unimpressed brow. “I did not.”

“Youabsolutelydid,” she counters. “You told me you had anexclusive, private, members-only reservationat a Michelin-star restaurant, and then youconvenientlyforgot to mention it was…” She waves a hand furiously, clearly still seething. “A dinner party with your business partners!”

I close my eyes briefly. Oh, God.

Cassian takes a slow sip of his coffee. “It was still Michelin-star dining.”

Isabella glares at him. “It was anetworking event. You tricked me into attending anetworking event.”

Cassian doesn’t even try to look apologetic. “I recall you having an excellent time.”

Her eyes narrow dangerously. “I recall wanting tostab you with a shrimp fork.”

Grayson, at this point, has given up pretending not to be entertained. He leans toward me, murmuring, “This isso muchbetter than I expected.”

I elbow him in the ribs.

Cassian exhales, clearly bored with the argument. “In my defense, youcouldhave left at any time.”

Isabella crosses her arms. “Itriedto leave, Laurent. But yourdelightfulbusiness associate told me I wassuch a breath of fresh airand thenheld me hostage in conversation about hedge fund acquisitions for forty minutes.”

Cassian smirks. “Ah, yes. Roger does get rather passionate about asset diversification.”

Isabella glares. “Roger isthe reasonI am never speaking to you again.”

Grayson chuckles. “I’ll give them this, when they fail, theyfailspectacularly.”

Eleanor, who has been watching this entire exchange with increasing irritation, clears her throat sharply. “If we could allfocuson the matter at hand?”

Cassian finally turns his attention to her, his usual air of detached amusement settling into something more calculating. “By all means. Please continue with whateverpower playyou’re attempting this morning.”

The tension in the room shifts immediately, returning to the reason we are all here. Eleanor sits forward, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from her crisp white blazer before fixing a perfectly polite expression on her face.

“As I was saying,” she begins, voice silky with false professionalism, “this company is at a critical turning point.Given the recent instability, I believe it is inPerfectly Matched’sbest interest to appointnewleadership.”

Grayson doesn’t so much as blink. “New leadership,” he repeats, his voice slow and deliberate. “You meanyou.”

She smiles. “I mean someone who can bringstabilityto this company.”

I fold my hands on the table, meeting her gaze head-on. “And let me guess, you’ve already taken the liberty of securing board members to back your ‘concern’.”

Eleanor’s smile doesn’t waver. “Several membershaveexpressed uncertainty about the company’s future. But I am confident we can resolve that with a smooth transition.”

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