Page 11 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

Grayson:Sweetheart, I always have enough energy for you.

Heat prickles up my spine before I can stop it, and I nearly spill my coffee in my lap.Damn him. I inhale deeply, squaring my shoulders. Two can play this game. I immediately reply.

Margot:Good. You’ll need it when you lose.

Grayson:Lose? That’s funny. Almost as funny as you pretending you weren’t staring at me yesterday.

I scoff, rolling my eyes.

Margot:I wasn’t staring. I was strategizing.

Grayson:Sure, sweetheart. Keep telling yourself that.

Margot:And I suppose you weren’t looking either?

Grayson:Oh, I was definitely looking.

My breath catches for half a second before I recover, fingers tightening around my phone. Damn him again.

Margot:Enjoy the view?

Grayson:I always do.

I swallow hard and toss my phone onto the couch, standing abruptly. Nope. Not doing this. Not engaging. I refuse. And yet, the heat simmering beneath my skin tells me I already have. No response. Good. Let him stew. I toss my phone aside and head to get ready, shaking off the lingering warmth from our exchange. Today is about strategy, about ensuring that Grayson doesn’t see my next move coming. Because while he might think he’s running this game, he’s about to learn exactly who he’s up against.

I need to clear my head before I step into the office. And there's only one way to do that. A quick change into my workout gear, and I’m out the door, heading for the gym. My sneakers hitthe pavement in a steady rhythm as I make my way there, hoping that a solid hour of pushing my body will force my brain to stop replaying Grayson’s words.

The gym is nearly empty this early in the morning, just the way I like it. I go straight for the treadmill, setting the pace just high enough to make my heartbeat pound harder than my thoughts. But it doesn’t work. Every mile, every lift, every push feels like an attempt to shake him loose from my mind. And still, he lingers. I groan, upping the speed. By the time I finish, I’m sweaty, sore, and only marginally less annoyed. But at least I have a plan.

I grab my phone from my locker and fire off a message to Olivia:Let’s talk strategy before the morning meeting. We need to be one step ahead of King.

She responds almost instantly.

Olivia:Already on it. Meet me in my office.

Good.Grayson wants to play? He has no idea what I have in store for him.

By the timeI step into Olivia’s office, I’m refreshed, dressed in my usual battle armor, sleek navy dress, sharp heels, and an attitude to match. Olivia barely looks up from her laptop as I enter, her dark eyes scanning whatever data she’s pulling together. The smell of coffee and high stakes fills the room.

"You look determined," she muses, typing something before finally meeting my gaze. "That means one of two things, either your morning run gave you a brilliant idea, or Grayson’s texts did." I scoff, dropping into the chair across from her. "A little of both. But we’ll pretend it’s just the first one."

She smirks but doesn’t push. Instead, she turns her laptop toward me, revealing the updated matchmaking profile for Elliot Pierce.

"Here’s the deal," she says, leaning forward. "We know Grayson is trying to find Elliot a real match, someone who challenges him but also makes sense on paper. If we want to make this fall apart, we need to throw a wildcard into the mix. Someone Elliot won’t be able to resist at first but who is ultimately a disaster for him." I scan the screen, my lips curving as I read through the profile she’s pulled. "Tell me more about her."

Olivia taps the screen. "Tessa. Art curator, free-spirited, spontaneous, and allergic to long-term planning. Basically, Elliot’s worst nightmare. She’s the type who books last-minute trips to remote islands with no WiFi, who changes careers on a whim because ‘the universe sent her a sign,’ and who believes horoscopes are a valid relationship metric. She’s dated poets who live in vans, street musicians who communicate mostly through interpretive dance, and once, a man who ran a conspiracy theory podcast about mermaids."

I raise an eyebrow. "And yet, he’ll be drawn to her?"

"Like a moth to a flame," Olivia confirms. "She’s brilliant, creative, completely unpredictable. Exactly the kind of woman who will make him rethink everything, until he realizes he can’t control her. It’ll drive him insane."

I exhale slowly, considering. It’s a risky play. If Grayson finds a way to make it work, this could backfire spectacularly. But if it goes the way I think it will…I nod. "Do it. Set them up. Make sure it’s a match Grayson can’t undo."

Olivia grins, already reaching for her phone. "On it."

I sit back, feeling the first wave of satisfaction settle in. This is the game we play, the back and forth, the constant battle to beone step ahead. And right now, I’m holding the better hand. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself, until my phone buzzes again.

Grayson:Miss me yet?

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