Page 92 of In A Mood For Mr. Wrong

I exhale slowly, watching Cassian soak up the attention like a king surveying his empire.

“Get in line,” I murmur.

Backstage,as the reporters continue their frenzied questioning, Isabellastormsinto the private lounge where Cassian is casually sipping a glass of whiskey.

“What thehellwas that?” she demands, arms crossed, her emerald dress practicallyvibratingwith tension.

Cassian lifts a brow, completely unfazed. “A press conference.”

Isabella glares. “Youdidn’t tell them.”

He smirks. “I figured they’d appreciate the surprise.”

She exhales sharply, pacing in front of him. “Youattachedyour name to the brand.Why?”

Cassian sets his drink down, standing slowly. “Because this isn’t justtheirexpansion, Monroe. It’sminetoo.”

Isabella narrows her eyes. “You never make moves like this without a reason.”

Cassian steps closer, his voice lowering. “You’re right. I don’t.”

She crosses her arms tighter. “And what’s your angle?”

He tilts his head, watching her for a long moment. Then, finally, he murmurs, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Their gazes lock, charged andundeniably dangerous. Isabella swallows hard, but she doesn’t back down. And Cassian? Heloves it.

60

GRAYSON

Cassian Laurent has made apower move. Not just any power move, one designed to shift the entire narrative ofPerfectly Matched. Bypersonally investingin the expansion, he’s made sure that when people talk aboutPerfectly Matchedgoing global, they won’t just think ofmeorMargot. They’ll think ofhim. And that? That doesn’t sit well with me.

The moment we step into Cassian’s penthouse suite later that evening, it’s clear he wasexpectingus. He’s already poured himself a glass of whiskey, lounging in a sleek armchair near the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the glittering city skyline. The penthouse isridiculouslyextravagant, all high-end modern design, deep charcoal walls, velvet furniture, and a massive, abstract chandelier dripping from the ceiling like something out of a billionaire’s fever dream.

Margot, standing beside me in her ivory blazer and fitted trousers, crosses her arms, her expression sharp. “Youshould have told us about the press conference.”

Cassian sips his whiskey leisurely, completelyunbothered. “And ruin the element of surprise?”

I exhale sharply, my patience already wearing thin. “You didn’t just make an announcement. You made yourselfthe faceof the expansion.”

Cassian tilts his head slightly, as if considering that. “I preferaface of the expansion.” His smirk deepens. “And let’s be honest, King, you and Margot have your hands full keeping the business side running. I’m just adding a little…flair.”

Margot scoffs. “Flair?”

Cassian sets his glass down on the polished marble coffee table, leaning back with an easy grin. “Do youreallywant to sit through endless business dinners withdiplomats and sheikhs? Because Ido. You think the Tokyo elite is going to take meetings with just anyone? Iknowthese people. I speaktheir language.”

I narrow my eyes. “And in return, you getpower.”

Cassian raises a brow. “Did youthinkI was in this for charity?”

Margot clenches her jaw. “You’re stakingyourname onourcompany. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Cassian’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Oh, Evans. You’re thinking toosmall.” He steeples his fingers. “This isn’t just about money. It’s aboutpositioning. We’recreatingan empire. And every empire needs a fewfigureheads.”

I cross my arms. “And let me guess. Youjust happento be one of them?”

Cassian leans forward slightly, his voice dropping just enough to soundalmostsincere. “King, you’re smart.Toosmart to think I’d sit on the sidelines and playsilent investor.”

---