Page 98 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

Grayson’s eyes blaze with something deeper, something that settles into my chest like a steady flame. “Then we lose. Together.” He leans in, his forehead resting against mine, his voice a promise. “But I’ll burn the whole damn world down before I let her touch you.”

My breath hitches.

“I mean it, Margot.” His lips hover just over mine, a kiss and a vow waiting to be sealed. “You’re it for me. Not the company. Not the legacy. You.”

I close the distance. The kiss is slow at first, aching, searching, tender in a way that steals the breath from my lungs. But it deepens quickly, urgency blooming between us like wildfire. I clutch the front of his shirt, anchoring myself to the only thing that still feels solid. When we finally break apart, his hands linger at my waist, and mine stay tangled in the open collar of his shirt.

“We’ll win,” I whisper, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. “Not because of strategy. Not because of power. But because we’re stronger together.”

Grayson presses a kiss to the top of my head, his voice rough and full of conviction. “Damn right we are.”

And beneath the Paris stars, with the threat of war looming in the distance, I know one thing with absolute certainty, whatever comes next, we face it as one.

64

GRAYSON

Eleanor is up to something. Not justsomething small, not a petty move to rattle us or keep herself relevant. No, this is acalculated strike. A play she’s been waiting to make, biding her time until theperfectmoment. And now, she thinks she’s already won. I felt it the second she walked into the gala, the way she moved through the room like shebelonged there. The way she spoke to Margot, dropping hints like poison, her words designed tounravelus before we even realized what she was doing. Eleanor doesn’t show up unless she has something to gain. And I need to figure out what thatsomethingis before it’s too late.

By the time Margot and I return to our penthouse, the adrenaline from the evening still pulses through my veins. Paris sprawls beneath us, the city lights glowing against the darkened sky. From our balcony, the Seine curves lazily through the streets, reflecting golden flickers of streetlights. The Eiffel Tower looms in the distance, glittering like it holds the secrets of the night. But I don’t care about the view. Not when Margot is pacing across the living room, her bare feet silent against the marble floors, her heels abandoned by the door. Her dress clingsto her in the mostdistractingway, but right now, her mind is too sharp, toodangerous for me to let myself think aboutanything else.

She stops suddenly, spinning toward me. “She’s working the investors, Grayson. That’s theonlyexplanation. She wasn’t there for fun. She wasthere for blood.”

I nod, already pulling out my phone. “Olivia’s on it. She’s tracing Eleanor’s financials, looking into any unusual transactions, meetings, shell companies, if she’s making a move, we’ll find it.”

Margot lets out a breath, shaking her head. “This isn’trandom. She’s had this in motion for months, years, maybe.”

I step toward her, closing the space between us. “And we’regoing to stop her.”

She lifts her chin, those blue eyes locking onto mine. “You soundsosure.”

I grip her waist, my hold firm, grounding. “Because, Iamsure.” My voice lowers, rough with conviction. “Eleanor wants us to panic. She wants us to feel like she’s already won.”

Margot exhales slowly, her fingers tightening around my lapels. “Then let’s remind her who she’s up against.” And just like that, we have a plan.

Across the city,in a penthouse dripping with luxury, Cassian Laurent lounges like a man who doesn’tneedto worry about consequences. His black dress shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. A half-empty glass of whiskey rests beside him on the coffee table, the golden liquid catching the light from the oversized windows. The city stretchesout beneath him, but his attention is solely on thestormbrewing across the room.

Isabella Monroe storms in like agoddess of wrath, her gold gown shimmering as she tosses her clutch onto the nearest chair withfartoo much force.

“You areinsufferable,” she snaps, yanking off one of her diamond earrings like it personally offended her.

Cassian smirks, his dark eyes gleaming. “Good evening to you too, Monroe.”

She glares, placing her hands on her hips. “YouknewEleanor was going to show up tonight.”

Cassian exhales slowly, swirling his whiskey before taking a leisurely sip. “Now,whywould you assume that?”

Isabella folds her arms, her glare sharp enough tocut diamonds. “Because you never looksurprised, Laurent. And because Iknowyou. You never walk into a room unless you already know the exits.”

Cassian sets his drink down, standing with calculated ease. “I didn’t know she’d be there.” He tilts his head slightly. “But I wasn’tshocked, either.”

Isabella scoffs. “You think this isfunny?”

Cassian watches her, gaze flicking down to her parted lips before dragging back up. “I think you’reveryconcerned about who I’m making deals with.”

She exhales sharply, something unreadable flickering across her expression. “I’m concerned because you’rereckless,” she says finally. “Eleanor is asnake, Cassian. If she’s circling you, it’s because she thinks she’salready won.”

Cassian steps closer, his voice dropping. “Youdocare.”

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