The billionaire crazy wife

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.