Page 97 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

Cassian tilts his head, lookingentirelytoo amused for someone currently being torn into by a Hollywood starlet. “And why do youcare?”

Isabella’s jaw tightens. “Because she’s asnake. And I know you, Laurent. You playeveryangle.”

Cassian smirks. “Then maybe you shouldtrustthat I know what I’m doing.”

She scoffs, folding her arms. “You’re insufferable.”

Cassian leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “And yet, here you are.Again.”

For a second, they juststareat each other. Like the entire damn roomdoesn’texist. Then, Isabella huffs, mutters something under her breath, and whirls around, marching away like she needs to putmiles between them before she does something reckless. Cassian watches her go, his smirk fading justslightly, and I swear for the first time, he actuallylooks rattled.

I don’t wait.Ican’twait. I set my champagne flute down and start moving through the crowd, my heels clicking against the polished floor withpurpose. I weave past elegantly dressed guests, past murmured conversations and stolen glances. And then, I reach Eleanor. She turns before I even say a word, like sheknewI was coming.

Her lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. “Margot.”

I fold my arms, my voice cool. “Enjoying the party?”

Eleanor lifts a delicate brow. “Oh, immensely.” She sips her wine, her gaze flicking toward the room. “You’ve done well. Quite the impressive display.”

I tilt my head. “Yet, I’m sure you’re not here to celebrate my success.”

Eleanor exhales, like she’sboredalready. “Do youalwayshave to assume the worst of me?”

I smile sweetly. “Yes.”

Her laughter is soft but sharp. “Fair enough.” She takes another sip of her wine, then leans in slightly. “Tell me, Margot, how does it feel to be standing on top of the world, knowing that atany moment, it can all come crashing down?”

My blood turns toice. Because that wasn’t athreat, it was apromise.

I school my features, keeping my voice even. “You don’tscareme, Eleanor.”

Her lips twitch. “Oh, darling.” She tilts her head, her voice dropping just enough that only I can hear her next words.

“You should be terrified.”

Later that night,after the guests have left, after the champagne has run dry, after the ballroom has emptied, Grayson and I stand on the private terrace of our Parisian penthouse, overlooking the glowing city. The Eiffel Tower sparkles in the distance, casting golden light across the skyline like a promise. The cool night air brushes against my skin, but it’s not what makes me shiver. It’s Eleanor’s voice still echoing in my head.

Grayson leans against the wrought iron railing, his tux jacket discarded somewhere behind us, his sleeves rolled up, collar open. He looks like a man who just stepped off the cover of a magazine, except there’s tension in his jaw, in the way his eyes scan the horizon like it holds the answers we’re missing.

“She’s planning something,” he says, his voice low.

I nod, wrapping my arms around myself. “And whatever it is… she’s already ahead of us.”

He lets out a breath and drags a hand through his hair, the same way he always does when he’s trying not to lose it. “Then we get ahead of her.”

I glance at him, the weight of everything we’ve built tightening in my chest. “How?”

He turns to face me, his blue eyes locking onto mine with fierce intensity. “We find out exactly what she’s after. And we end it before she can make her next move.”

I want to believe that. I want to believe we can stay one step ahead, that we can outmaneuver her like we’ve done before. But for the first time in a long time, I feel something that terrifies me more than Eleanor’s threats. Doubt. Grayson must see it in my face, because his expression softens.

He crosses the space between us in three long strides and stops right in front of me. “Hey,” he says quietly. “You’re not alone in this. You never were.”

I nod, but the lump in my throat makes it hard to speak.

His hands come up to cup my face, thumbs brushing softly along my jaw. “Whatever she’s planning, we’ll handle it. Together.”

“You say that like it’s easy,” I whisper. “But what if she actually wins this time?”

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