10. Grayson
10
GRAYSON
I ’m already at the office when my phone buzzes, right as I take my first sip of coffee. I don’t have to look to know who it’s from, I sent a text ten minutes ago, fully expecting her to take the bait.
Grayson: Bet you spent all night thinking about me.
Margot: In your dreams, King.
I smirk, leaning back in my chair. Predictable. Competitive. Just the way I like her.I glance at the clock. She’ll be here soon, walking in with that sharp stride, dressed like she’s ready to conquer the world. She always comes in looking like she’s got the upper hand, except this time, she doesn’t. I grab my coffee and take a slow sip, watching the glass doors to Perfectly Matched . Any second now…There she is.
Navy dress, heels that click purposefully against the marble, hair shining under the office lights. She looksannoyingly good, like she just walked out of a high-powered CEO fantasy.And the moment she sees me watching her from my office, she slows. Just for a second. Just long enough to let me know she’s noticed.I lift my coffee in a silent toast, smirking.She rolls her eyes and keeps walking. Game on. I turn back to my desk just as Olivia walks in, looking way too pleased with herself.
"We’re set for Elliot’s match," she says, dropping a file onto my desk. "I assume you’re prepared to watch Margot lose?"
I flip open the folder, skimming the details. "More than prepared."
Olivia crosses her arms. "Good. Because something tells me she’s planning something, too, and if I know Margot, she’s not going to play fair."
I grin, tossing the file onto my desk. "Neither am I."
I pull out my phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard, I type: Miss me yet?
A minute later, my phone buzzes.
Margot: Not in the slightest.
I chuckle, shaking my head. Liar.
Time to make my next move. I glance back at the folder Olivia dropped on my desk. Elliot’s match is scheduled for later this week. That means I have exactly three days to make sure Margot is the one who stumbles first.And I already know how I’m going to do it. I lean forward, tapping Olivia’s desk with the file. "What do you think Margot would do if she thought I wasn’t taking this seriously?"
Olivia tilts her head. "She’d probably throw herself into making sure you fail even harder."
I smirk. "Exactly. So what if we make her think I’ve already lost interest?"
She leans against my desk, intrigued. "Go on."
"She’s expecting me to push back. To fight her head-on. But what if I act like I’m not worried? Like I’ve already won?"
Olivia’s eyes gleam with understanding. "So you’re going to mess with her head."
"I prefer to call it strategic distraction."
She snorts. "Right. And how exactly do you plan to execute thisdistraction?"
I grin, already pulling up my schedule. "Easy. I’m going to take her to lunch."
Olivia blinks. "Excuse me?"
"Lunch," I repeat, standing. "Somewhere nice. Somewhere that will make her question what I’m up to. If I act completely unbothered, she’ll spiral trying to figure out why."
Olivia shakes her head, laughing under her breath. "You are a menace."
"And yet, you’re still helping me."
"Because I want to see how this plays out."
So do I.
I shoot off a quick message to Margot: Hope you’re hungry. I’m taking you to lunch.
It takes less than thirty seconds for her response.
Margot: Excuse me?
Grayson: You heard me. 12:30. I’ll pick the place.
Margot: Absolutely not.
Grayson: That’s adorable. See you soon.
I toss my phone onto my desk and grab my jacket. If she thinks I’m letting her set the rules, she’s about to be very disappointed. Let the games begin.
I pick a restaurant that I know will throw her off balance, a sleek, intimate rooftop spot downtown, the kind of place that toes the line between business andsomething else. It’s exclusive, upscale, the type of setting that makes it impossible to ignore the tension in the air. If Margot is expecting a casual, forgettable lunch, she’s about to be in for a surprise. By the time I arrive, she’s already there, standing near the entrance, arms crossed. The moment she sees me, her eyes narrow.
"You’ve got to be kidding me," she says, looking up at the restaurant’s name glinting in gold lettering. Celeste. "This is where you’re taking me?"
I smirk, handing my keys to the valet. "What, too fancy for you? I figured you had standards." I tease.
She exhales sharply, but follows me inside, her heels clicking against the marble floor. The host greets us immediately and leads us to a private balcony table overlooking the city skyline. It’s the kind of spot reserved forpower players, or, in this case, two people trying to outmaneuver each other. She sits first, smoothing down her dress before folding her hands on the table, eyes locked onto mine. "Let’s skip the theatrics. Why are we here, Grayson?"
I take my time, settling into my seat. "Can’t a man treat his business partner to lunch?"
She snorts. "You don’t do anything without an agenda. So what is it? Trying to throw me off my game? Distract me?"
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. "Maybe I just wanted to see you squirm."
Her lips press together. "Not going to happen."
The waiter appears, handing us menus, and I watch as Margot pointedly ignores me, flipping through hers as if this is just another work lunch. But I know better. I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she’stoofocused on the words in front of her. I let the silence stretch, smirking when she finally gives in and looks up. "Seriously, Grayson. What’s your play?"
I swirl my glass of water, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, I already made my move."
She tilts her head, skepticism flashing in her eyes. "What does that mean?"
I tap the side of my glass, watching her closely. "You’ll find out soon enough."
Her eyes flicker with something unreadable before she leans back in her chair, exhaling. "Fine. Keep your little secrets. But just so you know, I have a move of my own coming. And when it lands, you won’t see it coming."
I chuckle, amused. "That’s what I like about you, Evans. You never back down."
She lifts her glass in a mock toast. "And I never lose."
Our glasses clink, the sound sharp against the quiet hum of the restaurant. Then, just as the waiter returns to take our orders, Margot’s phone buzzes on the table. She glances down, and her expression shifts, just slightly, but enough for me to notice. It’s the first crack in her armor. Her fingers tighten around the phone, knuckles whitening, and for a split second, I see something flicker in her eyes. Surprise? Frustration?Panic? She swipes her thumb over the screen, scanning the message, and whatever she sees makes her inhale sharply before she quickly flips the phone over, screen down. Like she doesn’t want me to see. Like she needs to hide it. Interesting.
I lean back, my smirk widening. "Something wrong, sweetheart?"
She glares at me, but there’s something else now, something unsettled. A hesitation.She wasn’t expecting this and just like that, I know I’ve won this round. Except, for the first time, I’m not entirely sure what game we’re playing anymore, because Margot Evans doesn’t rattle easily and whatever’s on that phone? It rattled her.