Page 72 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

“I like this,” she says after a moment. “Just us.”

Her fingers stay laced with mine. The music drifts into something slower, more tender, and the world around us fades. I only see her.

“Margot,” I say, and it lands somewhere between her name and a confession.

She meets my gaze, something in her eyes softening, curious, open.

“I used to think work was everything,” I tell her. “The company, the fight to prove I belonged. But lately… I can’t stop thinking about what comes after.”

Her breath catches, just barely. “And you think I’m what comes after?”

I shake my head. Slow. Certain.

“No. You’re what makes all of it matter.”

For a second, time stills. The air between us hums. She stands slowly, her napkin falling to the table, and walks over to my side. I rise too, heart in my throat, not sure what I’ll do next but knowing it’ll be honest. We’re close now. Too close. Her perfume wraps around me, something soft and floral, like jasmine on a warm breeze or the delicate sweetness of peonies just starting to bloom. It’s fresh and gentle and completely her. I brush a lock of hair behind her ear. Her eyes flutter slightly at the touch.

“Walk with me?” I ask, my voice low.

She nods. We step out into the night, hand in hand, the city humming around us. String lights sway above the quiet street, and her head rests gently on my shoulder as we walk. I don’t say a word. Because this, her, beside me, is the moment I’ve been waiting for. And I don’t want to miss a second of it.

49

MARGOT

Last night still lingers in my mind like the echo of a perfect song, soft jazz, candlelight, the way Grayson’s hand fit so naturally in mine. The restaurant was cozy and hidden, the food rich and indulgent, but it wasn’t just that. It was the way he looked at me, like I wasn’t just part of the chaos, but the reason he wanted to fight through it. For a few blissful hours, it wasn’t about the company or the will or the power struggle. It was just us. And for the first time in weeks, I let myself breathe.

But now the sun’s up, and the fight is back on. I pause on the sidewalk outsidePerfectly Matched, staring up at the glass tower with its sleek silver lettering and spotless windows. To someone else, it might just look like another tech startup with clean lines and a trendy mission statement. But to me, it’s everything. This is where I proved myself. Where I stopped living under other people’s expectations and started building something that was mine. It’s where I worked late nights chasing down a vision I believed in. Where I took risks, made mistakes, and earned respect, not because of who I knew or where I came from, but because I showed up and fought for it every damn day. And it’s where I met him. Grayson wasn’t just my mentor.He saw something in me before I even saw it in myself. And somehow, through all the long nights and sharp words and impossible tension, we became this thing I still don’t have a name for. Complicated. Charged. Real. And now, we’re fighting side by side. I straighten my shoulders.

I’m not letting Eleanor take this from me. Not the company. Not the future I’ve built. Not him.

The moment I step intoPerfectly Matched’sheadquarters, I feel it in the air, an electric tension, a silent storm gathering in the distance. Every employee, from the receptionists to the senior executives, has seen Eleanor’s interview. They’ve read the headlines. And now, they’re watching, waiting to see what happens next. But if Eleanor thinks she’s already won, she’s in for a rude awakening, because today, Grayson and I aren’t just playing defense. We’re going toburyher.

“Alright,” Olivia says, pacing the length of Grayson’s office, her tablet balanced on one arm. “The numbers are solid. The financial reports show a clear decline inPerfectly Matched’sprojected revenue if Grayson is removed. Investor confidence is already shaken because of Eleanor’s public attack.” She glances at me. “If we play this right, we can make itveryclear to the board that backing Eleanor isn’t just risky, it’s a financial disaster.”

Grayson smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Nothing makes people more loyal than the fear of losing money.”

I nod. “Good. Let’s set up a meeting with the key board members. We don’t need all of them, just enough to shift the vote in our favor. We hammer them with numbers, make itimpossiblefor them to see Eleanor as a viable option.”

Cassian, who has been lounging in one of Grayson’s chairs with a bored expression, finally perks up. “Idolove a good manipulation tactic.”

Isabella, sitting beside him with her legs crossed, flips through a magazine. “That’s because youarea manipulation tactic.”

Cassian grins. “Flattering, darling.”

Isabella sighs, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table. “So let me get this straight. You two…” she waves a hand between me and Grayson… “are going to strong-arm a bunch of old men into keepingyouin charge instead of Eleanor?”

I nod. “That’s the general idea.”

She shrugs. “Okay, I’m in.”

Grayson frowns. “You’re in?”

Cassian laughs, watching her with amusement. “Oh, you’ve done it now, King. You’ve given her acause.”

Isabella smirks. “Look, normally, I wouldn’t care about corporate warfare. But Eleanor is theworst, and I wouldloveto publicly humiliate her.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Plus, Ioweher. That woman tried to blacklist me fromthreemajor studios after I turned down a film she was producing.”

Grayson raises an eyebrow. “Why did you turn it down?”

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