Page 101 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

GRAYSON

Iwatch Eleanor King’s empire crumble before my eyes. Not with an explosion. Not with chaos or a last-ditch attempt to fight back. No. She realizes she’s lost the second I say the words.

Her lips press together, her jaw tightens, and for the first time since I’ve known her,Eleanor has nothing to say. The boardroom remains silent for a beat too long. No one dares to breathe, no one wants to be the first to move. The weight of what’s happening settles in the air like thick smoke.

Then Olivia, ever efficient, clears her throat and slides a document toward Eleanor. “These are the terms,” she says, her voice smooth, professional. “As you’ll see,Perfectly Matchedremains under Margot and Grayson’s control. You will formally resign from all involvement, effective immediately. This has been approved by the board.”

Eleanor doesn’t even look at the papers. Instead, she looks atme, then atMargot. I half expect her to put up a fight. To deliver some dramatic last words, or at least a smirk, something that reminds us that shewillfind a way to haunt us in the future. But she doesn’t. She exhales through her nose, then, veryslowly, picks up the pen Olivia provided and signs her name at the bottom of the document. The second the ink dries, I feel a tension in my chestuncoil. We won.

Margot straightens beside me, her back as poised as ever, but I know her too well. I see the way her fingers tighten slightly in her lap. The way she’s holding back the urge togloat. She won’t. Not in this room. But the second we walk out of here?

I’m sure I’ll get a front-row seat to that victory. Eleanor slides the pen across the table and stands. She smooths out the lapels of her blazer, then finally speaks.

“You two were always underestimated.” She tilts her head slightly. “Maybe that was our mistake.”

Margot arches a brow. “Maybe?”

Eleanor exhales sharply, then smiles, smiles, before turning on her heel and walking toward the door. She doesn’t look back. Doesn’t try to bargain. Doesn’t try to have the last word.

And as the heavy glass doors close behind her, I realize something. This isn’t just the end of a battle. It’s the end of anera.

We don’t saya word to each other until we’re outside the building, stepping onto the quiet London street. The sky is dark, the city lights casting golden glows on the pavement. The second we reach the car, Margotbursts out laughing. Full, genuine laughter, her entire body tilting slightly as she presses a hand to her forehead.

I smirk, leaning against the car as I watch her. “Feel good?”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “I swear, I thought she’dfightharder.”

I roll my shoulders. “She knew it was over.”

Margot sighs, then turns to me, and there’s somethinglighterabout her now. Somethingfreer.

“We did it,” she says, her voice quieter now.

I reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah,” I murmur. “We did.”

She swallows, her gaze flicking over my face. “This was never about the company for me, you know.”

I nod, already knowing where she’s going with this. “I know.”

Her hand rests against my chest, her touch warm, grounding. “And you?”

I don’t hesitate. “You.”

She exhales softly, her lips curving slightly. Then I cup her jaw and kiss her, reallykiss her, because for the first time in weeks,months, I don’t have to worry about what comes next. Because this? This isours and weearnedit.

Cassian Laurent doesnotget flustered.He’s arrogant. Smug. Always five steps ahead of everyone in the room. Which is why, when Isabella storms into his penthouse,again, I expect him to be completely unaffected. Instead, he lookspissed. Not the amused kind of irritation he usually carries when she’s yelling at him. No, this isdifferent. He’s leaning against his bar, a fresh drink in his hand, his black dress shirt still unbuttoned just enough to beinfuriating.

“You left,” he says, his voice deceptively calm.

Isabella, still in the same damn golden dress from last night, crosses her arms. “I had things to do.”

Cassian scoffs, setting his drink down with athud. “Right.”

She exhales sharply. “Why are you so…” Then she stops. Because shesees it. Seeshim. The tension in his shoulders. Theway his jaw is locked tight. The way his fingers tap against the marble counter like he’s barely keeping himself in check.

She frowns. “Cassian?”

He turns to her fully, stepping forward. “Do youeverstop running?”

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