Page 70 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

I shift forward, bracing my elbows on my knees. “How bad is the damage?”

There’s a pause. Then Olivia says, “If we don’t control the narrativefast, you’re going to lose the board.”

I close my eyes briefly. I already knew Eleanor would find a way to twist the knife. I just didn’t expect her to usemy own pastas the blade.

Margot pushes the covers off and swings her legs over the side of the bed, her movements sharp, deliberate. I watch as she pulls her hair into a loose knot, her expression already shifting from frustration tostrategy. “We need to flip this,” she says, already scrolling through her phone. “We need to discredit her before this sticks.”

I study her, admiring the way her mind works, fast, precise, unyielding. She’s already thinking three steps ahead, already figuring out how to dismantle Eleanor’s lies. And I realize something then. I am angry. Livid. But more than that? I amgrateful because no matter how brutal this fight gets, no matter how much Eleanor tries to take from me, Margot is stillhere, fighting beside me, fightingforme.

I sit up, dragging a hand through my hair. “Okay. What’s the plan?”

Margot’s eyes gleam. “We make Eleanor regret ever opening her mouth.”

Cassian’s voice cuts in from the doorway. “Idolove a good revenge plan in the morning.”

Margot sighs, rubbing her temples. “Do you justlivein our office now?”

Cassian smirks. “I like to keep myself entertained.”

Isabella appears beside him, sipping an iced coffee. “Plus, I ran out of espresso pods in my penthouse.”

Margot glares. “I hate both of you.”

Cassian grins. “And yet, here we are.”

Grayson exhales sharply. “Can wefocus?”

Cassian gestures grandly. “By all means. Please, continue plotting your corporate takedown.”

I turn back to Margot. “How do we shut this down before the board meets?”

She tilts her head, considering. Then she looks at Olivia. “How many of the board members have personal stakes inPerfectly Matched’ssuccess?”

Olivia pulls up the list. “At least five have heavy financial ties. If the company takes a hit, they take adirecthit.”

Margot smiles slowly. “Then we make itveryclear that keeping Grayson is theonlyway this company stays profitable.”

Cassian hums, impressed. “You’re suggesting we financiallystrong-armthe board?”

Margot shrugs. “Eleanor is playing dirty. Why shouldn’t we?”

I lean back, a smirk tugging at my lips. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

Margot gives me a look. “Oh, please. You couldn’t function without me.”

Cassian sips his coffee. “Ilovethis dynamic.”

Isabella sighs. “Can you two just make out already?”

Margot glares. “Get. Out.”

Cassian holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. But if you needsomeoneto leak information that makes Eleanor look bad, youknowI have the connections.”

Margot pauses. Then she turns to Olivia. “Call the financial analysts. We need aprojection reportthat shows exactly what happens if the board removes Grayson. If Eleanor wants to play chess, let’s put her incheckmate.”

I watch her, and something shifts in my chest, tight, aching, consuming. It’s more than admiration. More than pride. It’s awe, and maybe something dangerously close to obsession. She’s brilliant, calculating, unflinching, utterly in control even when everything around her is chaos. There’s a fire in her, sharp and unrelenting, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything the way I want to protect that fire and also watch it burn the whole damn world down. Margot Evans is a force. She’s the storm and the eye of it, all at once. Ruthless when she needs to be. Fiercely loyal. Unstoppable. And she is mine. Not because I’ve earned her. Not yet. But because I see her, really see her, and I’ll burn down whatever I have to just to make sure no one dims that light. Eleanor thinks she’s won. She thinks she’s clever, untouchable. But she made the biggest mistake of her life. She underestimated Margot Evans.

I decide to plan a dinner because we need a break—from the company, from the legacy battles and legal briefings. From pretending we don’t notice the way our hands almost touch every time we argue in the hallway. So I plan something real. Something outside of Perfectly Matched and the version of us that lives inside boardroom walls. Olivia recommends the restaurant and insists I don’t screw it up. I book the table, pick the wine, and show up ten minutes early because, for once, I don’t want to be late for her.

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