Unscripted After

Cassian’s laugh had that effect on me, like it could thaw any tension in the room. Right now, he was using it to tease me over pizza. “I’m telling you, Talia, pineapple on pizza is a sin,” he said, lounging back on my couch like he owned it. One arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other holding a slice he clearly refused to try. I rolled my eyes. “You’re dramatic. It’s sweet and savory. It’s called flavor balance, rich boy.” He grinned, slow and unapologetic. “It’s called ruining a perfectly good meal.” I tossed a pillow at him. He caught it mid air without even looking. Of course he did. Because he was Cassian Locke. Golden boy. Effortlessly infuriating. CEO in training with reflexes that didn’t belong to someone who spent most of his days in glass boardrooms and tailored suits. Tall. Broad shouldered. Tousled dark hair that refused to stay neat. Steel blue eyes sharp enough to intimidate an entire room, yet soft when they landed on me. He looked like he had stepped out of a high end fragrance ad. But beneath the sculpted jaw and calm intensity was the man I actually knew. The one who had climbed a tree in the rain to save my kitten. The one who stayed up all night helping me rewrite a literature paper in freshman year after I broke down crying in the library because a professor said I would never make it. To the world, Cassian Locke was cold. Calculating. Untouchable. To me, he was just Cassian. Now twenty seven and heir to the Locke legacy, he was as emotionally unavailable as he was infuriatingly observant. A dangerous combination. “Earth to Talia,” he said, snapping his fingers once. “You’re zoning out again. Thinking about how wrong you are?” I blinked, heat creeping up my neck. “I was thinking about how tragic your taste is, actually.” He smirked—that lazy, devastating smirk that had women falling over themselves without him even trying. “You love my taste.” If only he knew how much. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gaze locked on me. It always made my chest tighten. Like he wasn’t just looking—he was seeing me. “What?” I asked, suddenly aware of my posture, the messy bun slipping loose. “You look tired. Work been rough?” God. He always noticed the smallest things. “It’s nothing,” I shrugged, forcing my eyes back to the pizza. “Just… life.” Cassian's voice softened. “Talia. You don’t have to lie to me.” And that was the problem. He meant it. He cared. Just not in the way I wanted him to. I forced a smile. “I’m fine. Seriously.” He studied me a moment longer, then reached over and plucked a piece of pineapple from my slice, popping it into his mouth like it was some noble sacrifice. I stared. “Did you just…?” “I’m giving your poor, abused pizza a fighting chance,” he said, chewing thoughtfully. I laughed, head thrown back. For a fleeting moment, the world felt still. Just us. Stolen evenings. Quiet comfort. Inside jokes. Something dangerously close to love. His phone buzzed on the coffee table. The spell broke. He glanced at the screen and sighed. “Ugh. My mother. Again.” I raised a brow. “What does Lady Ice Queen want this time?” “She’s insisting I get married,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. “Apparently, I’m a threat to the Locke image. A twenty seven year old bachelor CEO. Scandalous.” I snorted. “God forbid you run a multi billion dollar company without a trust fund blonde on your arm.” “That’s exactly the issue,” he said, picking up another slice of pizza and inspecting it like it had personally offended him. “She’s rallying the board. Talking optics and stability. Pushing this idea that if I don’t get engaged soon, I’m not ready for the next phase.” I shook my head. “You care what they think?” “Not really,” he said. “But control matters. And if I let her drag the board into it, I lose leverage.” He paused, jaw tightening. “If she keeps pushing, I might need to play her game just long enough to end it.” A knot formed in my stomach. “Play her game how?” He looked at me then. Really looked. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. “What if I married someone?” he said slowly. I blinked. “What?” “Not for real. Just on paper. A contract. A few months. Long enough to shut down the noise. Then we walk away.” My heart thudded painfully. “You want to fake marry someone?” He nodded once. Calm. Certain. “And who exactly did you have in mind?” I asked, breath caught. Cassian smiled. Not his usual smirk. Quiet. Intent. “What if it was you?" The air shifted. The room didn’t feel like mine anymore. It felt like a line I couldn’t uncross. A question my heart had been answering for years before my mouth could catch up. Everything I had been trying not to want was standing right in front of me, asking.