The billionaire crazy wife

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.