Smile for the Sharks
1150 Words
“You will stay by my side. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will smile when necessary. That’s all.”
Cassian’s voice was ice as he fastened the cufflinks on his shirt, not even glancing at Eden as she sat at the edge of the velvet chaise in his room, adjusting the strap of her heel like it was a dagger.
“Well, aren’t we just brimming with romance,” she muttered.
His eyes flicked to her in the mirror—brief, calculating, unimpressed. “We’re not here to play pretend for you, Eden. Tonight is business.”
“And nothing says business like dragging your fake wife to a ballroom full of overgrown toddlers in tuxedos.”
Cassian didn’t answer. Just adjusted his tie and slipped on his jacket with that same practiced efficiency. Eden watched him for a second—how he moved like the world had never dared to touch him without permission.
Then again, she was starting to believe it hadn’t.
“I’ll behave,” she said sweetly, standing up in her gown—a black, satin piece that hugged her curves like it had been tailored with sinful intent. “But if one of your boardroom buddies gets handsy, I bite.”
Cassian’s gaze dropped briefly, slowly, to her neckline, then lower, before settling back on her eyes.
“You won’t get the chance,” he said simply. “They know better.”
“You sure? I don’t think fear of you cancels out stupidity.”
He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. His silence did the heavy lifting.
Eden rolled her eyes and followed him out, heels clicking against the marble like rebellion in motion.
---
The gala was being held at one of those old-money hotels that looked like royalty had once bled on its carpets. Every chandelier sparkled like judgment, and every guest dressed like their net worth depended on how bored they looked.
Cassian walked through the entrance like he owned the damn building. Eden walked beside him like she was there to burn it down.
Heads turned. Whispers followed.
“Is that Wolfe Cassian’s wife?”
“She’s new.”
“God, she’s stunning.”
“She doesn’t look like one of them.”
“Bet she’s just another gold-digger.”
Eden smiled—sharp and glossy.
Cassian offered her his arm, not out of courtesy but control. She took it anyway, for appearance’s sake, though the tension between them could’ve snapped piano wire.
“Smile,” he said under his breath.
“Say please.”
He shot her a look.
Eden bared her teeth in a sarcastic grin. “There. Happy?”
He didn’t reply.
They moved like a picture-perfect couple, and Eden hated how easy it was to fake. Or maybe she hated how he didn’t have to fake it at all. He was a stone wall in a sea of champagne.
A man approached—tall, handsome in a polished, fake way, with that slicked-back hair that screamed Harvard and childhood trauma.
“Cassian,” he greeted, shaking his hand. “And this must be the mysterious wife. You’ve been hiding her.”
“Wolfe Cassian doesn’t hide things,” Eden said before Cassian could speak. “He just doesn’t offer them freely.”
The man blinked, caught off guard.
Cassian’s hand tightened slightly on her waist—just a reminder, not a threat. Yet.
“Charming,” the man said, laughing stiffly. “I’m Adrian Lennox. Partner at Haywood & Lennox.”
“Ah,” Eden said, tilting her head. “So you’re the one whose company logo looks like it was designed in Microsoft Paint.”
Adrian’s mouth twitched.
Cassian’s fingers twitched too.
But he didn’t stop her. Not yet.
“Well,” Adrian said after a pause, “she’s got fire.”
Cassian nodded once. “She’s learning restraint.”
“Slowly,” Eden added with a wink.
The man moved on, clearly unsure if he’d just been insulted or flirted with. Probably both.
As they walked further into the crowd, Cassian leaned in just slightly.
“You’re testing limits again.”
“Isn’t that what good wives do?”
“I don’t believe in good wives.”
“Shocking.”
He didn’t even blink.
Eden accepted a glass of champagne from a passing tray, raising it like a toast. “You don’t like people, do you?”
“I like efficiency.”
“That’s not a personality.”
“It is in rooms like this.”
She glanced around. Dozens of eyes followed Cassian’s every step—people pretending not to watch, but too obsessed with power to hide it well. He walked like a king in a den of rats. They hated him. They needed him. They feared him.
Eden got it. She wasn’t so different, after all.
“You know what I’ve learned tonight?” she said suddenly.
He didn’t answer.
She leaned in, lips near his ear. “You’re the most interesting man in this room—and somehow still the coldest.”
“You confuse attention with interest,” he said. “And cold is a choice.”
“Then maybe next time choose something with a pulse.”
His jaw tensed.
But before he could reply, someone else approached—an older woman with a fake smile and a Cartier necklace that could pay Eden’s rent for the next ten years.
“Cassian. And… Eden, is it?”
Eden smiled politely. “That’s right.”
“You’re just lovely,” the woman said, tone syrupy. “A breath of fresh air. We were all starting to think Wolfe would marry his bank account.”
“Believe me,” Eden said, sipping her champagne, “he still might.”
Cassian’s hand pressed against the small of her back—too light to be possessive, too firm to be friendly. Just a warning.
The woman gave a strained laugh and walked away quickly.
When they were alone again, Cassian spoke quietly. “You’re enjoying yourself.”
“I’m surviving,” Eden said. “There’s a difference.”
“You don’t have to impress them.”
“Good. Because I have no intention to.”
They stared at each other, tension humming between them like electricity in the walls.
And then Cassian said something unexpected.
“You looked good tonight.”
Eden blinked.
For the first time, she wasn’t sure if it was another calculated line or something less… scripted.
She recovered quickly. “Don’t get all sentimental. You might combust.”
Cassian’s expression didn’t change. But his gaze lingered.
Then he turned away, signaling the end of the conversation.
But that night, as they stood side by side in a ballroom full of vultures, something shifted—something unspoken.
He didn’t let go of her arm once.
And for all her sass and defiance, Eden didn’t pull away.
- Writer
