Page 96 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

Eleanor laughs softly. “Touché.”

Before I can press further, Eleanor shifts her gaze to Cassian. “Laurent.”

Cassian raises a brow. “King.”

Eleanor’s smirk deepens. “We should talk.”

Cassian exhales, tilting his head slightly. “Oh,shouldwe?”

Isabella glares at Eleanor, stepping slightly closer to Cassian’s side, like she’s about to launch herself between them if necessary.

Margot folds her arms. “Whatever deal you’re trying to make, it’s not happening.”

Eleanor sighs dramatically. “Always sohostile, Margot. I’m just here to celebrate your little…success.”

I step forward. “If youso much as breathein the direction ofPerfectly Matched, I willendwhatever plan you think you have.”

Eleanor studies me for a moment, then smiles. “Noted.”

Then, just like that, shewalks away, disappearing into the crowd like a ghost.

Margot exhales slowly. “That wastoo easy.”

I nod, my mind already spinning. “Because this isn’t over.” And I know this is just anotherbeginningof whatever game Eleanor is playing.

63

MARGOT

The gala was supposed to be a statement. Aperfectshowcase ofPerfectly Matched’sdominance on the world stage. Instead, Eleanor King walked in like she still owned the room, and now, the entire night feels like a carefully laid trap, because Eleanor doesn’t makeappearances. She makesmoves, and I need to knowexactlywhat this one means.

I stand at the edge of the ballroom, champagne flute in hand, watching as Eleanor drifts through the crowd like a queen surveying her kingdom. Every move she makes is calculated, who she speaks to, how long she lingers, what expression she wears.

Grayson stands beside me, his jaw clenched, his blue eyes tracking her movements. I canfeelhis tension radiating off him.

“She’s working the room,” I murmur, taking a slow sip of my champagne.

“She’splotting,” Grayson corrects, his voice low and edged with something dark.

We both watch as Eleanor stops by a group of international investors, men with deep pockets and even deeper connections.She smiles, nods, leans in slightly. It’s subtle, but I knowthat look.

She’splanting seeds, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.

Olivia strides up to us, her expression unreadable as she holds up her phone. “I just got confirmation,” she says quietly. “Eleanor’s been meeting with investors.Ourinvestors.”

My grip tightens on my glass. “What thehelldoes she want?”

Olivia exhales, glancing at Grayson. “If I had to guess?Leverage.”

Grayson mutters something under his breath that sounds like a string of very creative curses and I don’t blame him.

Across the room, Cassian Laurent isnothappy. I catch a glimpse of him near the bar, his usual smirk replaced by something harder, darker. His eyes are locked onto Eleanor like he’s debating whether to play along or burn the entire damn building down. And Isabella Monroe? She’s hadenough. I can see it in the way she storms toward him, her golden gown shimmering under the chandeliers, her heels clicking against the marble floor withpurpose.

“Are you seriously talking to her?” Isabella demands, stepping way too close to Cassian.

Cassian exhales slowly, turning toward her. “Monroe.”

Isabella narrows her eyes. “Don’tMonroeme. What the hell is she offering you?”

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