Page 3 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

So when the lawyer read the terms of my grandfather’s will, I knew exactly how she’d react. That sharp intake of breath. That instant calculating look in her bright blue eyes, like she was already rearranging the pieces on a chessboard only she could see. I should’ve been focused on what the hell I was going to do about this marriage clause, but instead, I was too busy watching her unravel and enjoying every second of it.

"You heard him, Evans," I drawl, stretching like I have all the time in the world. "First one to tie the knot wins. Guess we better start sending out wedding invitations."

Margot’s head snaps toward me, her blue eyes flashing with something between irritation and barely contained fury. "Tell me you’re not actually enjoying this."

I shrug, stretching out in my chair. "I mean, it's not every day you get handed a rom-com plot twist on a silver platter. We should be thanking my grandfather for the entertainment value alone."

That earns me an exasperated sigh and a muttered curse under her breath. Classic Margot. I could wind her up without even trying.But, if I’m being honest, the situation is worse than I’m letting on.Perfectly Matchedwas my grandfather’s legacy, the thing he spent his life building from the ground up. I’d always assumed I’d take over someday, just not like this. Marriage? No thanks. Not my style. I'm the kind of guy who forgets to restock his fridge, let alone commit to a lifetime with one person. I like my freedom, my space, and, let’s be honest, my options. Relationships? Fun in theory, exhausting in practice. Call me a player if you want, I prefer 'enthusiastic participant in life's buffet of possibilities.' And yet, here I am, being strong-armed into a matrimonial ultimatum like I’m the lead in some bad reality dating show. If I were marriage material, trust me, someone would've locked me down by now. Someone tried once. She believed in forever, and for a while, I let myself believe too. But forever has a way of falling apart when you're the one expected to hold it all together. Turns out, I'm better at running than risking disappointment. Easier to leave than to be left.

I don’t have time to think too hard about that, though, because Margot is already launching into problem-solving mode, grilling the lawyer like she’s cross-examining a hostile witness.

"Is there anything in the will that prevents us from proving we’re capable of running the company without marriage?" she demands.

"Technically, no," the lawyer admits. "The clause was meant to ensure a strong foundation for the company's leadership moving forward."

I snort. "Right, because nothing says 'strong foundation' like a legally mandated spouse. What’s next, a reality show to find my perfect match?"

Margot shoots me a glare so lethal I’m surprised I don’t drop dead on the spot. "Then I propose an alternative," she says, ignoring me completely. "Grayson and I will prove, beyond a doubt, that we are the best matchmakers in the industry. Whoever creates the most successful match should take overPerfectly Matched, no wedding required."

A competition? Now, that’s interesting. I lean forward, intrigued despite myself. "A matchmaking battle? Now that’s an idea I can get behind." Margot crosses her arms, her full lips pressing into a thin line. "Of course, you can. It’s not like you take anything seriously enough to run a business."

And there it is. That little edge to her voice, the one that says she still thinks I’m nothing more than a reckless charmer, coasting through life on good luck and good looks. She doesn’t see the pressure, the expectations, the weight of a legacy I never asked for. She doesn’t know that sometimes, faking indifference is easier than admitting I care too much. If only she knew the truth. But I’m not about to unpack my personal baggage in front of an audience. Instead, I flash her my most infuriating grin. "Oh, sweetheart, if I wanted to win this company, I’d have it in my pocket already."

Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she turns back to the lawyer. "Do we have a deal?" The lawyer hesitates, glancing between us like he’s debating whether to run for cover. "There’s nothing in the will preventing that… if both parties agree." Margot takes a slow, measured breath, likeshe’s trying to keep herself from launching across the table and strangling me. "Do you agree, Grayson?"

I let the moment stretch just long enough to drive her crazy. Then I lean in, resting my elbows on the table, locking eyes with hers. "Oh, Evans, I thought you’d never ask." And just like that, the game is on.

Margot might think she has this in the bag, but what she doesn’t realize? I love a challenge. And nothing, nothing, is more tempting than beating Margot Evans at her own game. She thinks she can outmaneuver me with cold logic and data-driven matchmaking, but she’s forgetting something important, I know how people work. I know how to read the room, how to make someone believe in something even when they don’t want to. Margot plays chess, but I play poker, and I never show my full hand until I’m ready to win the pot.

Maybe she expects me to sabotage her, to trip her up at every turn. But my best move? Letting her think she’s got the upper hand while I slowly turn the tide in my favor. And if I happen to have a little fun driving her absolutely crazy along the way? Well, that’s just a bonus.

The bass is tooloud and the drinks are watered down, but at least the whiskey burns. I lean back in the velvet booth, letting the beat and the noise wrap around me, trying to drown out the echo of Margot Evans’ voice in my head. It’s not working.

Across from me, Jax raises an eyebrow over the rim of his glass. “You’ve been staring into your drink like it personally offended you for ten minutes. You gonna tell me what happened, or are we doing the brooding bachelor routine all night?”

I grunt. “Depends. You ever been threatened with marriage and professional humiliation in the same sentence?”

He laughs. “Only once. Her name was Vanessa, and she ran a very aggressive startup yoga empire.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know. That’s what makes this so fun. Spill it.”

I take another sip, then lean forward, elbows on the table. “My grandfather’s will dropped today.”

Jax winces. “Ah. That explains the vibe. What’d the old man leave behind? A mysterious map? A riddle tattooed on your arm?”

“Worse. A matchmaking company with a catch.”

I give him the rundown, Perfectly Matched, the clause, the absurd marriage ultimatum, and of course,Margot Evans, who somehow managed to look both offended and personally betrayed by my mere existence. By the time I finish, Jax’s expression is somewhere between horrified and delighted.

“Wait, wait, so you and Ice Queen Evans have to either get married or go head-to-head in some kind of love battle royale?”

“Basically.”

“Dude,” he says, grinning. “That’s the hottest disaster I’ve ever heard.”

“She’s impossible,” I mutter. “She walks into every room like she’s on a mission from God, and I’m just the idiot she’s forced to tolerate.”

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