Page 77 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

ThePerfectly Matchedevent is held at one of the most exclusive rooftop venues in the city, a glass-enclosed space with panoramic views of the skyline. The setting is meticulously designed, elegant yet commanding. Every detail has been carefully curated to send a message:Grayson King is the rightful leader of this company, and Eleanor is nothing but a relic of the past, and, as planned, the press iseverywhere. Grayson stands at the center of it all, effortlessly composed, dressed in a sharp black suit that makes him look like hebelongsin power. He moves with an ease that speaks ofownership, shaking hands, engaging in conversations that matter. He looks likea leader. And Eleanor is nowhere to be seen. Exactly as we wanted.

Nearby, Cassian and Isabella are once again locked in their usual brand ofbarely contained chaos.

“Iswearto God, if one more person asks me about my dating life…” Isabella groans, swirling the champagne in her glass.

Cassian smirks, sipping his whiskey. “Can you blame them? You’retheIsabella Monroe.”

She glares at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely,” he replies.

She narrows her eyes. “You know, for a man who claims to be aprofessional, you’re awfully childish.”

Cassian leans in slightly, his smirk shifting into something slower, something moreintentional. “And yet, darling, youstillcan’t take your eyes off me.”

Isabella huffs, turning away, but there’s a flush creeping up her neck, and IknowCassian sees it.

“Oh my God,” I mutter under my breath. “They’re actuallyflirting.”

Grayson, standing beside me, lets out a low chuckle. “Took you this long to figure it out?”

I glance at him, amused. “And here I thoughtwewere the office scandal.”

He smirks. “I think we’ve beenoutdone.”

Before I can respond, Olivia appears, her face tight with urgency. “Eleanor’s on her way.”

Grayson straightens. “How long?”

“Fifteen minutes. She must haverealizedwhat we were doing.”

I meet Grayson’s gaze, and we both know this is it. The moment we’ve beenwaiting for. Eleanor King is about to walk into a room she no longerowns. And when she does, we’ll bewaiting.

52

GRAYSON

Eleanor King is about to walk into the mostunforgivingroom of her life. The rooftop venue is alive with energy, the chatter of high-profile guests humming under the golden city lights. Cameras flash asPerfectly Matched’selite clientele mingle, sipping champagne and trading stories about howGrayson King’s visionchanged their lives. That part wasintentional. Margot made sure tonight wasn’t just an event. It was amessage. A calculated, strategic display of power. Every guest in attendance has either benefited from my leadership atPerfectly Matchedor stands to lose somethingsignificantif Eleanor takes control. And now? They are here, in a space thatexcludesher, singingmypraises.

The moment Eleanor steps out of the elevator, the shift isimmediate. The conversation slows. People glance at her, some curious, some wary. She’s used toowninga room. Tonight, shedoesn’t.

Eleanor walks in with her signature grace, her tailored emerald dress as sharp as the expression on her face. She’s toocontrolledto show shock outright, but I see the flicker of itin the way her eyes scan the room. She was expecting resistance. She was not expectingthis.

She moves toward a group of executives, plastering on her most polished smile. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

Silence.

Margot, standing beside me with a champagne flute in hand, murmurs under her breath, “And there it is.”

Eleanor’s lips press together as one of the board members clears his throat awkwardly, shifting on his feet.

“Well, yes, of course,” he says, but he won’t meet her eyes. “Quite an…impressiveturnout tonight.”

It’s subtle, but it’s enough. She feels it the shift in power. For the first time inyears, Eleanor King isnotthe most powerful person in the room.

Cassian, who has beenwaytoo entertained by this entire night, tilts his glass toward Eleanor in a mock toast. “Ah, Eleanor, glad you could make it,” he says smoothly, his smirk practicallydrippingwith amusement. “We were just discussingPerfectly Matched’scontinued success. You must besoproud.”

Eleanor’s gaze sharpens, but before she can reply, Isabella steps up beside him, lookingobnoxiouslyrelaxed. “Yes, Eleanor, I was justtelling everyonehow much your leadership style has inspired me,” she adds with atoo-sweetsmile. “It’s fascinating, really. The wholeruthless efficiencything? Iconic. If you ever needa lessonin positive PR, though, you know where to find me.”

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