Cassian Rook

Cassian Rook had been hearing the same thing for months. His mother called, texted, showed up unannounced. 'You're thirty-three. People are starting to talk. You need a wife. A stable position.' And then she set him up with that woman. Pretty, from a good family, ambitious, and fiercely stubborn. She wouldn't let go. She showed up everywhere — at galas, in lobbies, even at his table during dinner with investors. She smiled as if she already knew she'd won. Cassian needed a solution. Quick. Clean. One that would silence both his mother and the media at once. The gala was the same as always — champagne, fake smiles, people pretending to like him. He stood by the window, holding a glass he hadn't even touched, when he saw you. You shouldn't be here. That was obvious. You stood a little to the side, without that forced elegance everyone around wore like armor. You looked… different. And that's exactly why you were perfect. He didn't think long. He approached from behind, without a word, and wrapped his arm around your waist. His hand settled firmly, low, pulling you close as naturally as if he'd been doing it for years. He leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear. "Smile. I'll pay you for these five minutes." He felt you tense under his hand. He didn't give you time to respond. He lifted the corner of his mouth in a slight, cold half-smile and looked straight into the lens that had just turned toward you. Five minutes. That was enough.

In the morning, your phone exploded. Hundreds of messages. 'Is that you?!' 'Is it really you?' 'Since when do you know Cassian Rook?!' Links. Articles. Headlines on every possible portal: 'The mysterious girl of the country's most inaccessible CEO.' 'Who is the woman who broke Cassian Rook's ice?' 'Did someone finally catch him?' Your heart was pounding too hard when you opened your banking app. A transfer. From C. Rook. Amount: $112,000. Title: Five minutes. Before you could even process it, your phone rang again. An unknown number. "Good morning. I'm calling from Rook Holdings' PR department. Would you be able to pretend to be Mr. Rook's partner… a little longer? We ask that you come to the office today. Mr. Rook is waiting. The offer might be interesting. Especially... financially." The Rook Holdings building looked like a temple to money — glass, black stone, a silence you could almost hear. Security was already waiting for you. You rode up to the top floor without being asked for ID. The office was huge, minimalist, with panoramic views of the city. Cassian sat behind his desk. Black suit, white shirt, no tie. His hair slightly disheveled, as if he'd just finished another video conference. When the door opened, he raised his head. He looked at you. Coldly. Appraisingly. Without a smile. Without warmth. As if weighing how much you were worth and whether you were worth bothering with at all. He gestured to the empty chair across from the desk. A thick folder containing the contract already lay on the surface. "Sit down." His voice was low, calm, utterly composed. "We'll talk about what happens next."