40. Grayson
40
GRAYSON
I wake up before the sun rises, the city still cloaked in early morning darkness. My suit jacket is draped over the back of my office chair. The top buttons of my dress shirt are undone, my sleeves rolled up to my elbows. My entire body is still humming with the aftershocks of last night. Margot. Margot in my arms. Margot, pressed against me, her lips tangled with mine, her hands gripping my shirt like she needed me as much as I needed her. I drag a hand over my face, exhaling slowly. What the hell have we done? It wasn’t just a lapse in judgment. It wasn’t just old habits resurfacing. It wasus. The fire, the tension, the absolute inability to stay away from each other. And now? Now, we have to deal with the consequences.
A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. My pulse jumps, but when I glance up, it’s not Margot. It’s Olivia.
She steps inside, shutting the door behind her. “Good. You’re up.”
I arch a brow. “Didn’t realize my schedule was your concern.”
She ignores my sarcasm and drops a folder onto my desk. “Eleanor just made her move.”
I push away the remnants of last night and snap into focus. “What did she do?”
Olivia slides into the chair across from me, crossing one leg over the other. “She’s set up an emergencyunofficialboard meeting for later today. No official invites, no paper trail. Just afriendlygathering of select members to discuss Perfectly Matched’s future leadership.”
My jaw tightens. “And I assume Margot and I weren’t invited?”
Olivia smirks. “Oh, sweetheart, of course not. That would imply she’s giving you a chance to fight back.”
I inhale slowly, my fingers pressing into the desk. “Who’s attending?”
Olivia flips through her notes. “Four of the key board members who are already leaning in Eleanor’s direction. A few financial backers who aren’t thrilled about the recent scandal. And, most importantly,whoever Eleanor is planning to install as CEO.”
I lean back, rubbing my jaw. “She’s trying to lock in support before we can counter.”
Olivia nods. “Exactly. If she gets enough people behind her, by the time we make our move, it’ll be too late.”
I grip the edge of my desk. “We need to find out who she’s backing. If we don’t know our opponent, we’re fighting blind.”
Olivia leans forward. “That’s the thing, I have a name.”
I sit up straighter. “Who?”
She slides a slip of paper across the desk. I glance down, and my stomach drops. Daniel Whitmore.
I let out a slow exhale. “Of course.” Daniel is old money, Ivy League educated, and a Perfectly Matched legacy client, his parents used the service decades ago to secure one of the most high-profile society marriages in the country. He’s everything Eleanor values: polished, respected, and completely lacking a soul.
I glance back up at Olivia. “Does Margot know?”
“Not yet. I wanted to tell you first.”
I nod, already reaching for my phone. “Then let’s make sure we control the narrative before Eleanor does.”
By the time I step into Margot’s office, she’s already pacing behind her desk, phone in hand.
She doesn’t look at me right away, but I can see the tension in the way her fingers grip the edge of her desk, the way her brows furrow as she scrolls through whatever news alert just hit.
“You heard,” I say. It’s not a question.
Margot exhales sharply, tossing her phone onto the desk. “Daniel Whitmore.”
I nod. “Eleanor’s chosen puppet.”
She crosses her arms, biting her lower lip, a habit I know she does when she’s thinking ten steps ahead. “He’s exactly the kind of candidate the board will eat up. No scandals, no emotional ties, just business.”
I step closer. “But he doesn’t know Perfectly Matched like we do. He doesn’t have the relationships we’ve built. He doesn’t understand what makes this companywork.”
Margot finally looks at me, her blue eyes sharp. “Then we have to make sure they remember that.”
I nod, but before I can respond, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at the screen.
Cassian. Of course.
I put it on speaker. “Laurent.”
“Ah,King.” Cassian’s voice is pure amusement. “You’ll be delighted to know that your matchmaking client is currently trying to fire me.”
Margot blinks. “Isabella?”
“Who else?” Cassian sighs dramatically. “Apparently, she doesn’t appreciate myconstructive criticismabout her unrealistic dating expectations.”
Margot pinches the bridge of her nose. “Please tell me you didn’t say something offensive.”
Cassian hums thoughtfully. “I may havelightlysuggested that dating someone outside of Hollywood might introduce her to the wild concept of emotional depth.”
I snort. “You basically called her shallow.”
Cassian sighs. “She took itpersonally.”
Margot groans. “Of course she did.”
Cassian continues, completely unfazed. “So, here’s the deal, I refuse to let her fire me, but Idoneed her to stop throwing drinks at me. I’m assumingoneof you will fix this.”
Margot and I exchange a look. We don’t have time for this. But Cassian and Isabella are too high-profile to ignore, and if we screw up their matchmaking, it’ll be another hit to Perfectly Matched’s credibility, something Eleanor wouldloveto use against us.
Margot exhales. “Fine. Set up a meeting with Isabella. We’ll handle it.”
Cassian chuckles. “Looking forward to it.”
He hangs up before we can respond.
Margot drops into her chair, rubbing her temples. “I swear to God, if these two don’t stop being a walking PR disaster…”
I smirk. “You’re the one who took them on.”
She glares at me. “You wereright therewhen I did.”
I chuckle, and for a moment, just a moment, it feels like us again. Then reality crashes back in. I clear my throat. “We need to focus on Eleanor.”
Margot straightens, all business again. “Agreed. We need to get to Daniel before she solidifies his support.”
I nod. “Then let’s do it.”
Margot shouldn’t be here, in my penthouse. She knows it. I know it. But after spending the entire day fighting battles on all sides, after dealing with Eleanor’s games, Daniel Whitmore’s looming threat, and Cassian and Isabella’scomplete inability to be normal humans, we ended up here, together. The tension is thick, crackling between us like a live wire. She’s standing in my living room, looking unsure for the first time inforever. I don’t move. I don’t say a word. Because if I do, I won’t be able to stop myself.
Her gaze flicks to my lips. I see it. She swallows hard. “We should talk about…”
I move. One step and then another. Until she’s backed against the wall, her breath hitching, her fingers gripping the edge of my shirt.
“Grayson…”
I cut her off. And this time, neither of us stops.