24. Margot
24
MARGOT
G rayson leans back on the couch beside me, his arm brushing mine, casual and warm. The late afternoon light spills across his jawline, catching on the faint stubble he didn’t bother shaving this morning. He looks so good it’s almost unfair tousled blonde hair, easy smile, those absurdly blue eyes that still undo me a little more than I care to admit. I can’t help the way my mind flickers back to that night. The way his hands had slid under my shirt, rough and sure. The heat of his mouth on my neck, my collarbone. The breathless way he said my name when I pulled him closer. It had been reckless, and messy, and completely out of character, for both of us. And I want it again. But then the want is chased by something sharper.
A flicker of panic. What did it mean? We’d been in the middle of emotional chaos, caught up in the mess with Liam, the pressure of the company, the storm of grief and guilt and history. Was it just comfort? A way to escape, for one night, from the weight of everything else pressing down on us? Or did it mean something more? Because if itdid, then everything changes. We’re not just business rivals anymore. Not just two people forced to share a legacy, pretending to coexist for the sake of appearances. That night broke something. Or maybe it built something new. I just don’t know which.
I shift slightly, just enough for my leg to press against his. He glances at me, and for a second, it feels like we’re right there again, teetering on the edge of something dangerously good. But my heart is thudding in my chest now, not from desire, but uncertainty. I don’t know if I’m falling for him. I don’t know if I already have. And I have no idea what happens if I have to face him tomorrow in the boardroom and pretend like none of this ever happened.
Then my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen, expecting some harmless notification. I stare at the email. I read it once. Then again. My fingers tighten around my phone, my stomach twisting into knots.
Grayson’s expression darkens beside me. "Who the hell is this?"
I swallow hard. "It could just be someone trying to mess with me. Maybe Liam trying to scare me on his way out."
Grayson doesn’t look convinced. "Or maybe it’s someone else entirely."
My pulse kicks up. "We need to trace the email. See if it’s really from him or…" Before I can finish my sentence, my phone pings again. Another email.
My breath catches as I read it: Did you really think it would be that easy? I always have a backup plan . I go cold. Grayson snatches the phone from my hands and glares at the screen. "That son of a…"
My stomach is twisting into knots. "What does he mean, backup plan?"
Grayson is already grabbing his phone, his voice clipped as he speaks. "We’re not waiting to find out. I’m calling my contact. We’re tracing this now."
I nod, forcing myself to take a steadying breath. I should be terrified, but something else is creeping in anger. Liamthinkshe still has power over me. He thinks he can keep playing games.
"You know what?" I mutter, crossing my arms. "I’m done letting him control the narrative."
Grayson glances at me, his jaw tight. "What are you thinking?"
I meet his gaze, my voice steadier than I feel. "I say we stop playing defense and go straight for the checkmate."
Grayson’s eyes narrow as he studies me. "I like the sound of that. But first, we need to know exactly who we’re dealing with." He dials his contact, stepping away as he speaks in low, clipped tones. I watch him pace, every muscle in his body taut with controlled fury. The way he takes charge, the way he refuses to let fear dictate his actions, it’s frustratingly attractive. A few minutes later, he hangs up and turns to me, his expression unreadable. "We traced the email. The IP address is linked to someone inside Perfectly Matched ."
My stomach drops. "What?"
Grayson nods, his jaw tightening. "And it gets worse. The connection? It leads back to my aunt."
I feel like the floor has been ripped out from under me. "Youraunt? Why would she…"
"That’s what we’re about to find out." He grabs his keys. "Let’s go."
I don’t hesitate. If she’s been working with Liam, if she’s the reason he had my information in the first place, then I want answers. We head straight for her house, and by the time we pull into the driveway, my pulse is pounding. Grayson doesn’t bother knocking, he pushes the door open and steps inside, his voice hard. "We need to talk. Now."
His aunt, Eleanor King, looks up from where she’s sitting in the living room, her expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable. She’s in her late fifties, elegant but sharp-edged, with perfectly styled silver-blonde hair and an expensive silk blouse that screams control. Everything about her, from the way she holds her teacup to the assessing glance she gives us, radiates quiet authority, the kind of woman who never lifts her voice because she never has to.
"Grayson? What’s going on?"
I fold my arms, stepping beside him. "We traced the email. The one Liam sent me. It came from inside Perfectly Matched . And guess whose IP address it was linked to?"
For a second, she doesn’t react. Then, she exhales, setting her teacup down with a deliberate calmness that sends a chill down my spine.
"I suppose it was only a matter of time before you figured it out."
Grayson’s fists clench at his sides. "So it’s true. You were helping Liam."
She tilts her head, a slow, calculated movement. "Helping? No, Grayson. I was cleaning up a mess. A mess thatyouandMargotcreated."
Grayson’s eyes darken. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Eleanor exhales, smoothing an invisible crease in her blouse. "You two took something that should have been handledquietlyand made it a spectacle. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused? The investors are nervous, the board is divided, and the reputation of Perfectly Matched is at risk because of your little rivalry. And now, with Liam’s antics, the media is circling like vultures."
My hands ball into fists at my sides. "So what? You thought leaking my personal information to a psychopath was a reasonable solution?"
She tuts. "I didn’t give him your address, Margot. But I did give him just enough information to remind you both that you are not untouchable."
Grayson takes a threatening step forward. "You played with fire, Eleanor. You let a predator get close to her. And for what? So you could manipulate the board into taking my shares?"
She smirks, but there’s no warmth in it. "If it meant securing the future of this company, then yes, I’d do it again. Perfectly Matched was never meant to be yours, Grayson. And it certainly was never meant for her."
Grayson’s fists tighten, his body coiled like a predator ready to strike. "You put Margot in danger forthis? You risked everything, our reputation, the company, my trust, just to play puppet master?"
Eleanor remains unshaken, her gaze sharp and assessing. "You’ve always been too emotional, Grayson. That’s why you were never the right choice. You react. You don’t strategize. This company needs someone who understands control."
Margot steps forward, voice laced with venom. "And I suppose that someone is you?"
Eleanor exhales through her nose, almost pitying. "Not just me. There are others who see the bigger picture. Do you really think I acted alone?"
Grayson’s entire demeanor shifts, his sharp eyes locking onto hers. "Who else is involved?"
Eleanor smiles, knowing. "You’re so focused on Liam, on me, on these petty games, that you haven’t even realized the real threat."
Margot’s breath catches. "Who is it?"
Eleanor simply picks up her teacup again, taking a slow sip before murmuring, "You’ll find out soon enough."