Episode 3

The dance

NEXT MORNING – BLACKWOOD PENTHOUSE

Cassian was already seated at the long marble breakfast table, sipping black coffee and scrolling through stock updates on his tablet. He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, no tie, and looked every inch the billionaire menace he was.

Then came the sound of heels.

Click.

Click.

Click.

He didn't look up. Not until the heels stopped right in front of him.

His gaze rose slowly-

And then froze.

Daisy stood there, arms crossed, wearing a dangerously short, tight red dress that clung to her curves ,That can make men fall on their heels , make head turns. It had a deep neckline that left very little to the imagination and a slit so high it was almost illegal.

"Morning," she said sweetly, her lips painted to match the dress. "Hope I didn't overdress... for breakfast."

Cassian's jaw ticked, his eyes darkening just slightly. "Going somewhere?"

"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p' and grabbing a strawberry from the fruit bowl. "Brunch with Mareen. Then maybe some shopping. Then... who knows?"

He set the tablet down slowly. "Not in that dress."

"Oh?" she said innocently, biting into the strawberry. "Is there a problem, husband?"

His voice was low, almost amused. "You're dressed like you're walking into a nightclub at 2 a.m., not a restaurant at 10."

"Good. Then I'm saving time."

He stood, walking toward her, slow and deliberate. "Change."

"No."

Cassian leaned in slightly, his tone soft but firm. "You are my wife now. People will look. Headlines will spin. And I don't share what's mine."

Daisy smirked, stepping even closer until they were practically chest to chest. "News flash, Cassian. I'm not a vase on your shelf. You don't get to decide how I dress."

"You're playing with fire, Daisy."

"And you're flammable," she purred, brushing past him like a storm in heels.

He watched her go.

"Ten minutes," he called out. "Before I send my driver to shadow you."

"I'll wave at the cameras," she shouted back.

Cassian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

God help him-

He was very close to dragging that woman right back to his room.

---

LATER THAT DAY – HIGH-END BRUNCH SPOT,NYC

Daisy sat on the rooftop terrace with Mareen, sipping a mimosa, legs crossed, sunglasses on, looking like a goddess on vacation.

"You really wore that?" Mareen asked, eyes wide with delight.

"I wanted him to choke on his black coffee," Daisy smirked. "Pretty sure he almost did."

Mareen laughed. "You're evil. I love it."

But just as Daisy raised her glass again, she noticed a sleek, black SUV parked across the street. Tinted windows. Engine still running.

Her smirk faded a little.

"Is that...?" Mareen followed her gaze.

"Cassian's driver," Daisy muttered.

"Oh damn. The man's actually tracking you?"

"Like a jealous husband who thinks I'm about to sell the family diamonds."

Suddenly her phone buzzed.

Cassian: Your table has a direct line of sight from the street. Next time, wear something that doesn't make half the city trip over themselves.

Daisy grinned and quickly typed back:

Daisy: Next time, stay home and cry into your spreadsheets little baby.

No response.

"Oh, he's mad," Daisy whispered, gleeful. "This is going to be fun."

---

LATER THAT EVENING – BLACKWOOD PENTHOUSE

Daisy returned home, still glowing from the chaos she caused. She walked into the living room to find Cassian already there, sleeves rolled up, glass of scotch in hand, pacing like a man holding back a storm.

"You enjoyed yourself?" he asked without turning.

"Immensely," she said, tossing her purse on the couch.

"Good," he said, facing her. "Because you've officially declared war."

He walked toward her with slow, quiet intensity.

"You want freedom?" he asked. "Fine. But if we're playing this game, Daisy, you should know-I don't lose."

"Cute," she said, unbothered. "But I don't play by rules I didn't agree to."

Cassian smirked darkly. "Then maybe it's time we rewrite the rules."

He stepped even closer, eyes locked on hers. "From now on, we attend events together. You smile. You act like my wife. And in return... I won't lock you in this penthouse."

"Oh?" she whispered, stepping close enough for their breaths to mix. "And if I decide to be very difficult?"

Cassian leaned in, voice dangerously soft. "Then I'll show you exactly what happens to difficult wives."

Her breath caught for a second-but she didn't back down.

"Promise?" she whispered, smiling sweetly.

Cassian's jaw clenched. "Go to your room, Daisy."

"Which one?" she teased. "Mine? Or yours?"

He stared at her, something burning in his eyes.

She winked and turned away, heading to her room with an extra sway in her hips.

Cassian downed his scotch in one gulp.

This woman would either drive him mad-

Or make him fall to his knees.

--

NEXT MORNING .

The bass of a pop song thumped through the kitchen, echoing off the pristine marble and steel. It was the kind of place meant for quiet breakfasts and cold coffee-but not today.

Daisy was on fire.

Wearing a tiny grey bum short that left very little to the imagination and a cropped white tank that rode up every time she raised her arms, she danced barefoot on the tiled floor, a wooden spoon in one hand and a spatula in the other.

"Alexa, turn it up!" she called, not even caring if the penthouse had an Alexa.

She spun in a circle, shaking her hips to the beat as she stirred the scrambled eggs and flipped bacon like a chef possessed. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, bouncing with every move.

She didn't need Cassian's fancy chefs or his overpriced green smoothies. She needed carbs. And freedom. And maybe just a little bit of fun.

That's when he walked in.

Cassian stood at the edge of the hallway, shirtless, towel draped around his neck, sweat still glistening on his chest from his morning workout. He stopped cold the second he saw her.

Daisy hadn't noticed him yet. She was too busy lip-syncing to the music and wiggling her butt to the beat as she reached up to grab a plate from the shelf-completely unaware of the show she was putting on.

Cassian's eyes narrowed, locked on her curves, the way her shorts hugged her perfectly, the stretch of smooth skin exposed with every movement.

Then she turned.

Their eyes met.

The music kept playing, but everything else went still.

Daisy froze, her hand mid-air, holding a pan lid like a trophy.

"Well, good morning, husband," she said with a sly smile, totally unbothered. "Hope you slept well."

Cassian's voice was hoarse. "What are you wearing?"

"Clothes," she replied innocently, turning back to the stove. "Don't act like you've never seen legs before."

He walked closer, slow, calculated, eyes roaming.

"You're dancing. In that."

She smirked, flipping a pancake. "You act like it's a crime."

"I act like it's a distraction."

She turned, leaned back against the counter, and raised a brow. "Problem?"

Cassian's jaw clenched. "Only if you keep walking around like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you want me to lose control."

She laughed, soft and taunting. "Oh, Cassian... if I wanted that, you wouldn't be standing there right now."

Their eyes locked.

Silence stretched between them-thick, hot, electric.

Then Daisy turned back to her eggs, shaking her hips just a little more as the music picked up again.

Cassian muttered something under his breath and walked away, but not before stealing one last glance over his shoulder.

And Daisy?

She smiled to herself, biting back a laugh.

"Round one goes to me," she whispered.

Evening

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the luxurious penthouse. The silence was almost peaceful-until Daisy's bedroom door swung open.

She emerged, stretching like a cat, wearing an oversized white shirt knotted at the waist and, again, her signature bum shorts. Her hair was tousled, her skin glowing, and her energy was loud without a single word.

She yawned dramatically, then sauntered toward the kitchen like she owned the place.

Cassian was already there, dressed in his usual crisp black suit, sipping espresso while scrolling through his phone. His eyes flicked up briefly-and paused.

Daisy didn't greet him. She didn't say a word.

She made herself coffee, humming softly under her breath, ignoring his presence like he was an antique vase in the corner.

Cassian set his cup down with a click. "You're walking around like that again?"

She turned, feigning innocence. "Like what?"

He looked her up and down. "Like you forgot this is a house and not a photoshoot for a risqué magazine."

She smirked, sipping her coffee slowly. "Funny. I thought it was my prison. Might as well look good while serving time."

He stared at her for a moment, jaw tight, then returned to his phone. "Suit yourself."

She leaned on the counter, eyeing him with amusement. "Aw, does the big, bad CEO get distracted that easily?"

He didn't respond.

Episode 4

The gala event 1

CASSIAN'S OFFICE

The city skyline stretched endlessly beyond the glass walls of Cassian's penthouse office, but not even the breathtaking view could distract him today.

He sat behind a sleek black desk, his fingers drumming impatiently against polished wood. Papers lay untouched. His laptop screen blinked with unread emails. A board meeting reminder flashed in the corner.

But Cassian Blackwood-feared CEO, master negotiator, and calculated king of the corporate world-was entirely distracted.

By one person.

Daisy.

The image of her dancing barefoot in the kitchen, bum shorts riding high, shirt tied up and her hips swaying to music he couldn't hear-had tattooed itself into his mind. She hadn't cooked for him. She hadn't even acknowledged him. And yet, she occupied every corner of his thoughts like a haunting.

He scowled and leaned back in his chair.

"This is business," he muttered to himself. "A deal. A contract. Not... whatever this is."

He loosened his tie slightly, annoyed by how tight it suddenly felt.

His phone buzzed.

Marek (his PA):

"Sir, you've got a call with the Singapore investors in five."

Cassian didn't respond right away. He stood, walking to the window, staring out as if the clouds could clear his mind.

She's fire, he thought. Untamed, impulsive... and completely wrong for me.

And yet-he'd never been more intrigued.

This wasn't just about marriage anymore. Not just about control.

It was about the one woman who made the coldest man in New York burn from the inside out.

He returned to his desk, jaw set.

But deep down, he knew-

Daisy White was a storm he had willingly walked into.

CASSIAN'S OFFICE – MIDDAY

Cassian ended the investor call with sharp precision, his voice smooth but clipped as usual. He was a master at negotiation-always calm, always in control.

But as soon as the call ended, he didn't go back to reviewing the quarterly reports or scanning the pending merger files. Instead, he leaned back again, arms folded, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

Why the hell am I still thinking about her?

He had dated models. Been pursued by heiresses. Women bent over backward to impress him. They fawned, submitted, and smiled on cue.

But Daisy?

Daisy White danced around his kitchen in bum shorts, cooked only for herself, and didn't spare him a single look of attention.

She was chaos.

Unpredictable. Rebellious.

And it was driving him insane.

With a frustrated sigh, he pressed the intercom.

"Marek."

"Yes, sir?"

"Clear my afternoon. Push the board meeting to tomorrow."

There was a pause. Marek sounded surprised. "All of it, sir?"

Cassian clenched his jaw. "Yes. All of it."

He stood and reached for his blazer.

.

.

.

BLACKWOOD PENTHOUSE

The elevator chimed softly as Cassian stepped into the penthouse. The silence greeted him first-luxurious, still, almost too perfect.

He dropped his keys on the marble counter, eyes scanning the space like a hunter returning to familiar territory. No sign of Daisy in the living room. But then he heard it-faint music, something upbeat and completely out of place in his cold, orderly world.

He followed the sound.

And there she was.

Daisy. In the kitchen. Again.

She was putting away groceries in a cropped tank and the tiniest pair of shorts he'd ever seen-bare legs on full display, hair tied up in a messy bun, humming off-key, and swaying her hips like the kitchen was her personal runway.

She didn't see him. Not yet.

She popped a cherry tomato in her mouth and spun around dramatically with a wooden spoon, singing into it like it was a mic.

Cassian leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, lips curling slightly.

He didn't interrupt.

He watched.

God, she was trouble. A walking contradiction. She looked like a dream and acted like a storm.

Finally, she turned-eyes widening when she saw him.

The spoon froze mid-air.

Cassian raised an eyebrow. "You auditioning for MasterChef or The Voice?"

Daisy blinked. "You're home early."

"I rescheduled my day," he said smoothly, walking into the kitchen, "to see what else you'd get up to while pretending I don't exist."

She narrowed her eyes and tossed the spoon in the sink. "Don't flatter yourself. I was cooking. For me."

"I noticed," he said, eyeing the single plate of pasta on the counter. "Very considerate."

"I wasn't trying to be."

Cassian stepped closer, his voice low. "Good. Because I don't need considerate."

Their eyes locked. The air thickened.

Daisy swallowed. "Then what do you need?"

He leaned in, so close his breath tickled her ear. "I need a challenge. And you, Mrs. Blackwood, are the most tempting one I've ever had."

Her heart skipped.

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes.

"Next time you cook, make enough for two."

She smirked. "Next time, cook it yourself."

And just like that, she grabbed her plate, bumped him with her ass, and strutted out of the kitchen.

Cassian chuckled, rubbing his jaw.

Yep.

She was going to be the death of him.

And he was starting to enjoy it.

BLACKWOOD PENTHOUSE – NIGHT

Cassian sat alone at the bar in the living room, a half-empty glass of scotch in his hand, his mind replaying the image of Daisy dancing in the kitchen. The way her hips swayed. The way she looked at him-defiant and unbothered, like she hadn't just flipped his whole day upside down.

He should've been annoyed.

Instead, he was intrigued.

She was unlike any woman he'd ever dealt with. No pretending. No polished socialite act. Just raw, untamed fire-and she didn't care if it burned him.

His phone buzzed.

Marek (Cassian's Assistant):

"Board rescheduled to Friday. Also, Blackwood Corp's PR team wants to confirm your wife's appearance for the upcoming charity gala."

He stared at the message, then typed back with a small smirk.

Cassian:

"She'll be there. Just warn the photographers."

-

DAISY'S ROOM

Daisy sat on her bed in a silk robe, legs crossed, a bowl of pasta beside her as she scrolled through her phone.

She got up, paced to the window, and looked out at the glittering skyline of New York.

This was her life now-married to a cold, handsome CEO who liked mind games and war.

But he wasn't the only one who could play.

She turned to her mirror, tied her robe tighter, and whispered to herself:

"Let the real game begin."

-

THE NEXT MORNING

Cassian was already dressed in a fresh black suit when Daisy came downstairs wearing a skintight wine-red dress with a slit that nearly reached her thigh.

He raised an eyebrow.

"You're dressed for wat?"

She picked up a croissant from the counter and took a bite. ". Brunch."

He stepped closer, fixing his cufflinks. "With who?", staring at her boobs.

"Not that it's your business, and keep your eyes off my chest, with Mareen. My best friend. Remember her?"

Cassian narrowed his eyes. Was not staring at those little thing, have seen better."You're not leaving without a driver."

Then stop staring at mine jerk.She scoffed. "You planning to babysit me now?"

"No. Just making sure my wife doesn't make headlines for the wrong reasons."

She leaned in with a wicked grin. "Then maybe you should've married someone boring."

He stared her down, his voice dark and low.

"I didn't want boring. I wanted fire."

Their eyes locked.

Silent war.

Then she winked and walked out, leaving him standing there.

Cassian smiled to himself.

Episode 5

...... The gala event 2

Cassian found Daisy lounging on the sofa, scrolling through her phone with that familiar look of mischief.

The gala event next week-you'll be attending with me."

Daisy didn't look up. "Why? So you can show me off like a trophy?"

He smirked. "Something like that. It's important for both our families. You need to act... nice. Polished. Play the part."

She finally met his gaze, eyebrow raised. "And what exactly is 'the part' I'm supposed to play?"

Cassian pulled out his phone. "I'll send you everything you need to know-who you'll meet, how to behave, what to say. Consider it your guide to surviving Blackwood social life."

Daisy gave a mocking salute. "Great. A crash course in pretending to be someone I'm not."

He stepped closer, voice dropping to a near whisper.

"Pretend all you want. But when you walk into that room, you're not just Daisy White anymore. You're Mrs. Blackwood."

She rolled her eyes but the slight smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

"Fine. Send the 'manual.' I'll read it. But don't expect me to be anything less than crazy."

Cassian's smirk deepened. "That's why I married you."

Daisy snatched the phone from his hand and grinned wickedly.

"Careful, Cassian. If I'm this crazy now, wait until you see what I'm capable of after a few rehearsals."

He laughed, a rare sound that echoed through the sleek office.

"You're trouble. But I like it."

She tossed the phone back onto the couch and stood up, stretching.

"Well, Mr. Blackwood, I'm off to conquer this 'gala' of yours. Just remember - I play by my own rules."

Cassian watched her walk away, the way the light caught her hair making her look like a wildfire ready to ignite.

And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what he wanted.

Cassian's phone buzzed again, snapping him back to work mode. He opened the message - a detailed itinerary for the gala, including dress code, guest list, and key people Daisy needed to charm.

He smirked. Time to see if this crazy wife of mine can really play nice.

Meanwhile, Daisy stood in front of her full-length mirror, eyeing the elegant gown delivered that afternoon. It was stunning-silky black, hugging every curve-but she wasn't about to surrender her wild spirit just yet.

She whispered to herself, "Act nice, huh? Challenge accepted."

With a mischievous glint in her eye, she began plotting her own brand of "nice" for the night ahead.

Cassian's voice crackled through the speaker as he called Daisy later that evening.

"Daisy, the gala isn't just any event. It's a game of power, and you're my queen on the board. Play your part-charm, seduce, manipulate if you must. But don't forget... I'll be watching."

Daisy's breath hitched, a heat spreading through her body at the edge in his tone.

"Oh, I intend to play," she purred, her voice dripping with challenge. "But don't be surprised if I turn the game upside down."

Cassian's chuckle was low and dangerous. "I wouldn't expect anything less. Just remember, I'm not the one you want to mess with."

She smirked, biting her lip. "Maybe I'm the only one crazy enough to handle you."

.

The gala event was lit - glittering chandeliers, clinking glasses, and a sea of New York's elite dressed to kill.

Daisy stepped in wearing a stunning, curve-hugging gown that left little to the imagination, every eye drawn to her unapologetic confidence.

She spotted her father across the room, his sharp eyes searching for her. He approached, clearly expecting some acknowledgment.

But Daisy just glanced past him, a sly smirk playing on her lips. She had no time for his controlling games tonight.

Instead, she turned and sashayed toward the crowd, owning the room like the wild queen she was - and Cassian was watching every move, impressed and quietly amused.

Cassian's dark eyes never left Daisy as she worked the room with the grace of a model and the fire of a rebel. Men stared. Women whispered. But she didn't care. She was untouchable-and tonight, she looked dangerous.

He approached her slowly, a glass of champagne in hand, his presence commanding the space around them.

"You clean up well," he murmured, voice low and smooth as silk.

Daisy turned to him with a teasing smile. "Try not to fall in love tonight, Cassian. It would be tragic."

He chuckled, eyes trailing down her dress before meeting her gaze. "Just behave. Remember, this is business."

She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "Then keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Business."

Cassian clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to grab her right then and there. But before he could respond, the host of the evening called attention to the couple.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's welcome our favorite power duo-Cassian Blackwood and his new wife, Daisy Blackwood!"

Applause erupted as the spotlight hit them. Cassian instinctively pulled Daisy closer, his hand low on her back.

She didn't resist-but she whispered, "If you try anything, I swear I'll break your fingers."

Cassian grinned. "I like my women feisty."

"And I like my men quiet," she shot back sweetly.

The night was just beginning, and already the air between them was thick with tension-equal parts attraction and war.

Daisy smiled at the cameras, her hand lightly resting on Cassian's chest as the flashes sparked around them. But her mind was spinning. The lights, the music, the champagne-it was all a blur compared to the heat of Cassian's touch on her back. She hated how steady he looked. How controlled. Like none of this fazed him.

They walked down the ballroom floor together like royalty, but the tension between them was explosive.

"You can drop the act now," Daisy muttered under her breath as they paused near the center table.

"I would," Cassian said smoothly, his lips brushing her ear, "but I'm starting to enjoy it."

Daisy stepped away sharply, her eyes scanning the crowd-until she saw her father.

He stood near the edge of the dance floor, drink in hand, smiling at guests like the king of the empire. When his gaze met hers, he raised his glass.

Daisy didn't flinch. She didn't smile.

She looked right through him and turned away.

Cassian noticed. "You good?"

She gave him a side glance. "Peachy. Just ignoring my emotional blackmailer of a father in a room full of fake people while pretending to like my forced husband."

He smirked. "I think you're doing great."

A familiar voice interrupted the moment.

"Well, well... look who finally showed up looking like a snack."

Daisy turned-and there stood Gideon Hale, Cassian's business rival . His eyes raked over Daisy in a way that made Cassian stiffen instantly.

Cassian stepped in front of her, body protective, voice cold. "Gideon. I don't remember inviting you."

"I'm everywhere the action is," Gideon smirked. Then he looked back at Daisy. "If you ever get tired of the corporate robot, sweetheart... call me."

Daisy raised an eyebrow. "You offering better benefits?"

Cassian didn't wait-he wrapped an arm around Daisy's waist and leaned in like a possessive king.

"She won't need them," he said sharply. "I take care of what's mine."

Daisy blinked.

What's mine?

The hell?

Cassian turned her away from Gideon and toward the dance floor. "We're dancing."

"I didn't agree to-"

"Too late."

He pulled her close, and the music swelled around them. Their bodies moved in perfect rhythm, the world blurring around them. His hand rested dangerously low on her back. Her palm pressed to his chest.

And for a moment-just a second-Daisy felt it.

The fire.

The danger.

The undeniable pull.

Cassian's lips brushed her ear.

"Now smile for the crowd, Mrs. Blackwood. They're already writing headlines."

Daisy's lips curled into a slow, sultry smile-not for the cameras, not for the crowd, but for herself.

If they wanted a show, she'd give them a damn spectacle.

"I hope your rich little friends are watching closely," she whispered, pressing her body just a little closer to Cassian's. "Because I'm about to blow their minds."

Cassian's jaw tightened, but a flicker of heat danced behind his eyes.

"You always this dramatic?" he murmured.

"Only when I'm bored. Or when I'm trying to make my fake husband lose control."

She spun under his arm and landed back in his chest, hips grazing against his in a move that wasn't entirely innocent. His fingers dug into her waist.

"Careful," he growled. "Keep playing and I might forget this marriage is supposed to be for business."

Daisy raised a brow, voice dripping with challenge. "Maybe you should."

The music ended with a swell, and the room burst into polite applause. But Daisy could barely hear it over the pounding in her chest-or the heat crawling up her spine from Cassian's touch.

They stepped away from the dance floor, and as they passed by, whispers followed them.

"Did you see that chemistry?"

"She's not what I expected."

"Blackwood looks obsessed."

Daisy shot a sideways glance at Cassian. "You enjoying the rumors?"

Cassian didn't smile, but there was something wicked behind his eyes. "I enjoy watching people realize you're not just a pretty face. You're a storm, Daisy."

She paused, momentarily caught off guard. That... almost sounded like a compliment.

Before she could respond, her father stepped into their path, forcing a smile.

"Daisy, a word-"

"No," she said smoothly, not even slowing her stride. "I only speak to CEOs now."

Cassian chuckled darkly and followed after her.

They returned to their table where chilled champagne and applause from some board members greeted them. But even as the event continued, Cassian's gaze never fully left Daisy.

And Daisy?

She knew one thing for sure.

The heavy doors of the penthouse swung shut behind them with a soft click, silencing the chaos of flashing lights and champagne-soaked whispers from the gala.

Daisy kicked off her stilettos, sighing as she massaged her aching ankles. "Ugh. Remind me never to wear these shoes again unless I'm being carried."

Cassian loosened his tie in the hallway mirror, his jacket already slung over his shoulder. "Noted. I'll have someone carry you next time."

She shot him a playful glare. "Who says there'll be a next time?"

He turned slowly to face her, eyes scanning every curve of her body wrapped in that backless, deep red gown. "There will be. I meant what I said earlier. You're a storm, Daisy. And tonight... you owned the room."

Something in his voice made her pulse skip. Not cold. Not mocking. Almost admiring.

Daisy took a step closer. "You liked the show, huh?"

"I liked watching you steal the spotlight. No one saw Blackwood tonight," he said, voice low. "They saw Mrs. Blackwood."

Her brows rose. "Still playing the good husband card, huh?"

Cassian moved in close, a breath away. "Let me be clear. This marriage may have started as business... but don't get it twisted-I protect what's mine."

Her heart thudded. Fast. Too fast.

She refused to let it show. "I'm not yours, Cassian."

"We'll see," he said darkly.

She stepped back with a teasing smile. "You really think you can handle me?"

"I think I already am."

Daisy turned with a soft laugh, walking toward her room. "well. I'm going to sleep... ."

Before disappearing into the hallway, she threw him one last glance over her shoulder.

"But thanks for the compliment, husband. And don't forget to dream about me."

Cassian stood there, watching her sway out of sight, jaw clenched and something undeniably primal stirring in his chest.