The dining room could've been mistaken for a ballroom.
The ceiling stretched high, crowned with golden arches and a chandelier shaped like a starburst. Candlelight danced off crystal wine glasses. The long obsidian table sat twenty yet tonight, it felt fuller than it should.
Board members. Distant relatives. A few sharp-eyed associates.
All there to see them.
The newlyweds.
Juliette sat beside Cassian, just like he told her to.
Her back straight. Her hands calm in her lap.
He hadn't spoken another word to her since the stairwell.
And now, seated beside him at a table filled with power and polished smiles, she felt like a doll beautiful, breakable, and painfully silent.
The guests sipped wine, made polite conversation.
Juliette answered when spoken to, nodded when necessary.
Cassian?
He barely looked up.
Every once in a while, he'd swirl his drink, lift it to his lips, and take a slow sip.
Glass after glass. Nothing too heavy. But enough.
Enough to soften the edge in his jaw.
Enough to cloud his storm-gray eyes just a little.
At one point, one of the board members toasted.
"To the future of Vale Enterprises and the woman now standing beside it."
All eyes turned to her.
Cassian didn't even lift his glass. He simply leaned back, slow and languid, watching her like a king who hadn't decided what to do with his queen.
Juliette smiled. A small one. Poised. Distant.
And beneath the table, her nails dug into her palm.
By the end of the night, the staff began clearing plates.
The guests slowly filtered out coats gathered, fake smiles exchanged, expensive perfume lingering in the air.
A few offered her compliments. Empty ones. About her grace, her beauty, her dress.
None asked if she was happy.
And no one, no one, said goodnight to Cassian like they knew him
Because they didn't.
When the last car pulled away from the glowing courtyard, silence took its place.
And for the first time all night, she was alone with him again.
Cassian stood by the marble archway, hand resting loosely in his pocket. His other held the last of his drink.
He tilted the glass. Looked at her.
"Still playing the part?" he said quietly.
Juliette didn't answer.
She simply turned and walked up the stairs.
The hallway stretched long, windows showing the silver mist outside.
Juliette reached her suite door.
But just as her hand touched the knob
A voice behind her.
"You're my wife now, Juliette."
Cassian's tone was low. Controlled. Slightly hoarse. "You knew what this marriage meant."
She turned slowly.
He stood at the other end of the hallway, jacket gone now, sleeves rolled high, collar loosened just enough to make him look untouchable and wrecked all at once.
"And what exactly does it mean?" she asked quietly.
He walked closer.
Every step unhurried. Measured.
And when he reached her door, he didn't ask for permission.
He simply opened it.
The lights were still on.
Soft golds. Candle glows.
Juliette stepped back.
Cassian walked in like he owned the room and he did.
He set the glass down on the nightstand. Turned to her.
"I haven't touched you," he said. "Not once."
Juliette's spine stiffened.
His gaze lowered. Slowly. From her face, down her neckline, past the slope of her waist. He didn't hide it.
"And yet you sleep in my house. Wear my name."
She stepped back again.
"That name wasn't given out of love."
Cassian's eyes flickered. Just for a second.
Then he moved.
In a blink, he was standing in front of her. His hand reached for the strap on her shoulder but didn't pull it. He simply let his thumb rest there.
"You're my wife, Juliette."
She met his gaze, fire rising behind hers.
"And that doesn't mean you own my body."
His jaw tensed. Her voice had cut through something.
"I won't be treated like a debt you're collecting," she continued, steady now. "Even if this was arranged, even if it's all cold and transactional I won't be used."
Silence. Heavy.
Cassian stared at her.
Then… a small smile.
Barely there. Almost cruel.
"I expected you to cry," he said quietly.
"I expected you to act like a man."
That silenced him.
He took one step back. Looked at her like he was seeing something he didn't quite understand.
Then, without a word, he turned and walked to the door.
Just before leaving, he glanced over his shoulder.
"You're bold."
And then he was gone.
Juliette locked the door behind him with trembling fingers.
Her back hit the wall, and she exhaled for the first time.
Tears stung but she refused to let them fall.
She wasn't going to cry over a man who didn't even try to be a husband.
Not tonight.
She paced her suite. Stripped off the gold straps. Wiped the gloss from her lips with a shaking hand.
She whispered into the night:
"What kind of man tries to break a woman like this?"
But even as she said it, a small voice inside her whispered back:
He didn't expect her to fight.
He didn't expect her to speak.
And that's what unsettled him.
West Wing Later That Night
Cassian sat in the shadows of his private study, tie loose, another glass of something sharp in his hand.
He hadn't meant to follow her upstairs.
He hadn't planned to touch her tonight.
But the way she looked at him unafraid, unshaken
The way she stood there and told him no without even flinching
It did something.
He swirled the drink. Let the silence sit.
She was bold.
And bold was dangerous.
Bold was… interesting.
Not beautiful. He'd seen beautiful before. Owned it. Broken it.
But this?
This was something else.
Cassian Rhys Vale didn't believe in emotions.
He believed in silence. Control. Power.
But tonight, for the first time in a long while
He couldn't stop thinking about the sound of her voice.
And the fire behind her eyes.