Page 49 of In Love With Mr. Wrong

His brow furrows. "Is that what you think?"

She laughs once, bitter-edged. "It’s what I’ve heard. Enough times to memorize the tone."

Mason doesn’t look away. "People say the same about me. Charming, but not serious. A game."

She looks at him then, for real this time. No defenses. Just sharp eyes softened by candlelight.

"So what are we, Wolfe? Two cautionary tales looking for better edits?"

He tilts his head. "Maybe. Or two people tired of acting like they don’t want to be known."

Alexandra’s gaze drops to her lap. Then slowly, back to him. "You don’t scare easy."

"Neither do you."

They sit like that for a beat, shoulders touching, silence settling, and then, quietly, she says, "This still doesn’t mean anything."

Mason leans back, smiling. "Of course not. But it’s a hell of a start."

Soft, unscripted, real. Perfectly Matched.

28

GRAYSON

Margot is on her third call about cake logistics when I step into the kitchen. Her phone’s balanced between her cheek and shoulder, her hand is waving through a haze of fabric swatches, and a wedding binder the size of a legal deposition is open on the counter like it’s about to explode.

“No, Madeline, I do not want cascading orchids like a ‘bridal moment in Versailles,’” she says, exasperated. “This is a wedding, not a fragrance campaign.”

I bite back a smile as I open the fridge. “So... not the Versailles orchids?”

She covers the receiver. “If you ever utter the phrase ‘bridal moment’ again, I’m calling off the entire event.”

I hold up my hands. “Copy that. Just here for leftover risotto and emotional damage.”

Margot finally hangs up, sighs like she’s aged ten years, and tosses her phone onto the counter. “I have a master’s degree, Grayson. I’ve led IPOs. And today I argued with a woman named Francine about edible gold leaf.”

I lean across the counter and tug gently on the waistband of her silk pajama shorts. “For the record, I think you’d make a hot queen of Versailles.”

“You’re lucky I’m too tired to kill you.”

“I’m lucky in a lot of ways,” I murmur, just as Olivia’s name flashes on my phone.

The moment I answer, I know it’s bad. Her voice is sharp, brisk. “We’ve got a problem.PulseMatchjust went live with a promo campaign called ‘Precision Pairing.’ It’s a total rip-off of our elite algorithm, and guess who’s featured front and center?”

My blood chills. “Mason and Alexandra.”

“Yep. And the deck includes screenshots of onboarding footage they shouldn’t have access to. It's coordinated.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

***

The conference room is a fortress of caffeine, glowing monitors, and tension. Olivia already has the PulseMatch deck projected on the screen. Mason’s image is front and center, alongside Alexandra’s. Fake pull quotes, manipulated footage, a pitch so polished it could fool investors.

“This isn’t just shady,” Olivia says. “It’s surgical.”

Margot strides in like she owns the air around her. No trace of wedding planner frustration now, just CEO mode, all sharp edges and velvet steel. “Let’s kill it.”

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