Page 86 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

Cassian leans in slightly, his expression darkening. “Wewon. And yet, you’re still looking at me like youdesperately want to throw that drink in my face.”

Isabella sets her glass down, tilting her head as if considering. “Maybe I do.”

Cassian smirks. “Do it.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Youwantme to?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. “I think you’d lookincrediblein a fit of rage.”

Isabella exhales sharply, shaking her head. “God, you’reinsufferable.”

Cassian chuckles. “And yet, here you are.”

She glares. “Don’t flatter yourself. I came for thecocktails.”

He tilts his glass toward her. “And stayed forme.”

She makes a sound in the back of her throat, half irritation, halfsomething else. “Laurent, if I evermurderyou, just know it wasdeserved.”

Cassian grins, his gaze dipping briefly to her lips. “Duly noted.”

Silence stretches between them, heavy andundeniably charged. For a second, it seems like neither of them will break it. Then suddenly,recklessly, Isabella leans forward. “You talk too much.”

Cassian barely has time to smirk before shegrabs his tieandpulls him into a kiss. It’sfireworks, it’schaos, it’severything we all saw coming from a mile away.

57

MARGOT

The boardroom atPerfectly Matchedhas never felt thischarged. Even after everything we’ve been through, the battles, the betrayals, the victories, this moment feelsdifferent. Not like a fight for survival, but like the beginning of something muchbigger. Something we never saw coming. Cassian Laurent wants toexpandPerfectly Matched. Not just a small expansion. Not just dipping our toes into international waters. He wants to take itglobal.

The boardroom is the epitome of sleek sophistication, designed to impress and command authority. The long mahogany table gleams under the warm recessed lighting, the rich wood polished to perfection. The space is quiet except for the subtle hum of the city below, and the faint clicking of Olivia’s nails against her tablet as she reviews her notes. The scent of fresh espresso lingers in the air from the untouched cups of coffee placed in front of us, the steam curling softly.

Cassian, naturally, has taken the seat at the head of the table. Ofcoursehe has. He sits with an effortless kind of confidence, his navy three-piece suit impeccable, his crisp white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to suggest he enjoys power but neverplays by the rules. His platinum watch catches the light as he rests an elbow on the chair’s armrest, his fingers drumming lazily against the table as if this meeting is merely an interesting way to pass the time. Isabella sits beside him, her emerald green silk blouse draping elegantly over her frame, the deep color making her golden hair appear even more luminous. Her lips, painted a striking shade of red, are pursed slightly as she skims the proposal on her tablet, her expression unreadable. Across from them, Grayson is the picture of controlled power. His navy suit is sharply tailored, his tie knotted with precision, and his sleeves rolled just slightly at the cuffs, revealing a glimpse of his watch. His posture is relaxed but commanding, his blue eyes coldly assessing the situation. I sit beside him, my arms crossed, my mind already working through the possibilities. Olivia, seated across from me, is as polished as ever, her navy pantsuit perfectly tailored, her blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail that screams efficiency. She’s scanning the contract with sharp eyes, looking for weaknesses, potential risks, anything Cassian might be hiding.

Cassian leans back in his chair, his smirk widening as he takes in the room. “Well,” he says smoothly, his voice dripping with amusement, “let’s talk about making history.”

“Right now,Perfectly Matchedis an empire,” he begins, his voice carrying an easy confidence. “But it’s an empire withboundaries, borders that limit its reach. And that, my friends, is awasteof potential.”

I arch a brow. “And you thinkyouhave the key to breaking those boundaries?”

Cassian grins, as if he absolutely does. “I don’t think, Evans. I know.”

Grayson exhales sharply, his gaze locked on Cassian. “So tell us. What exactly are you proposing?”

Cassian leans back, his tone casual but deliberate. “Simple. We takePerfectly Matchedinternational. London, Paris, Dubai, Tokyo, exclusive matchmaking for the ultra-wealthy and powerful. We openluxury matchmaking salonsin these key locations, accessible only to the elite. Private events. Curated matches.Personalized perfection.”

Isabella chimes in smoothly, her voice carrying the weight of someone who knows the power of exclusivity. “This isn’t just about expansion. This is aboutdomination.Youdon’t justaddlocations, you buildmonumentsto exclusivity.Perfectly Matchedwouldn’t just be a company. It would be alegacy.”

A heavy silence follows, thick with the weight of the offer.

I tap my fingers against the table, my mind racing. “You’re talking about acomplete shiftin our brand identity.”

Cassian nods. “I am. Because the truth is, matchmaking isevolving. Right now, you have astrongholdon the industry. But in ten years? Someoneelsecould. I’m offering you the chance to ensurePerfectly Matchedremains untouchable.”

Grayson’s voice is calm but sharp. “And what doyouget out of this?”

Cassian smirks. “A cut of the empire, naturally. I’d be an investor. A partner.” He tilts his head slightly. “And, let’s be honest, Ienjoyshaking things up.”

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