The moment Vincent Montague smirked at her, Eurydice knew she was in trouble.
There was something about him—something too charming, too knowing—that instantly put her on edge.
This was not the polite, controlled businessman that Conrad was.
No.
This man?
He was a problem.
And, judging by the way Conrad subtly tensed beside her, he knew it too.
 
A Verbal Game Begins
Vincent stepped closer, gaze flicking between Eurydice and Conrad, assessing them like they were a puzzle he was about to solve.
“So,” he mused, sipping his champagne. “You’re the woman who finally tamed my cousin?”
Eurydice smiled sweetly, despite the very clear warning bells ringing in her head.
“Tamed?” she echoed. “Oh, no. I just let him think he’s in control. Makes things easier.”
Vincent tilted his head, intrigued. “Interesting.”
Conrad, who had been watching quietly, finally spoke.
“We don’t have time for your games, Vincent.”
Vincent’s smirk widened. “Oh, but I love games.” He turned back to Eurydice, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Tell me, fiancée, how did you two meet?”
Eurydice didn’t even flinch.
“Oh, you know. The usual way.” She leaned into Conrad, resting a hand on his arm. “I spilled wine on him, and instead of suing me, he fell madly in love.”
Vincent laughed, clearly delighted. “Now that is a story.”
Conrad’s jaw ticked. “We should move on.”
Vincent held up a hand, still grinning. “Just one more thing.” He turned to Eurydice. “Since you’re so close to my dear cousin, I assume you know his favorite wine?”
Eurydice internally panicked.
Oh. Oh, this was a trap.
Vincent was testing her, waiting for her to mess up.
Luckily—
Eurydice thrived in high-pressure situations.
She turned to Conrad, tilting her head playfully. “Darling, should I tell him? Or keep it our little secret?”
Conrad didn’t miss a beat. “Go ahead.”
Eurydice smiled, but her mind was racing.
Wine. Think, Eury. What kind of wine would a stiff, control-freak billionaire drink?
Then—
She remembered.
Back at the bakery, when he had shown up unexpectedly, she’d noticed what he ordered.
Black coffee. No sugar. No cream.
Which meant—
“Dry red,” she said smoothly, meeting Vincent’s gaze. “Something aged, expensive, and not too sweet.”
Vincent’s grin faltered just slightly.
Conrad, without missing a beat, added, “Cabernet Sauvignon.”
Eurydice shot him a quick glance, then smirked. “Exactly.”
For the first time, Vincent looked… mildly impressed.
Then he chuckled. “Well played.”
But his eyes gleamed.
Like he wasn’t done testing her just yet.
 
As soon as Vincent was distracted by another guest, Conrad leaned down slightly, voice low and quiet.
“You handled that well.”
Eurydice exhaled. “Yeah, well. You’re lucky I can think under pressure.”
Conrad studied her, eyes unreadable. “Are you nervous?”
She raised an eyebrow. “What gave it away? The death grip I have on your arm?”
Conrad smirked slightly. “You’ll get used to it.”
She doubted that.
But before she could say anything else—
A new voice interrupted.
“Conrad. Finally.”
Eurydice turned—
And immediately wished she hadn’t.
Because standing there, looking perfectly put-together and mildly unimpressed, was Eleanor Montague.
Conrad’s mother.
And, next to her, watching with keen interest—
Was Richard Montague, Conrad’s father.
Eurydice felt her stomach drop.
Conrad subtly straightened, his expression going carefully neutral.
“Mother. Father.”
Eleanor narrowed her eyes slightly at Eurydice, scanning her from head to toe.
Eurydice fought the urge to fidget.
Finally, Eleanor sighed. “So. This is her.”
Not who is she?
Not it’s nice to meet you.
Just—this is her.
Eurydice forced a smile, extending a hand. “Eurydice Santiago. It’s nice to meet you.”
Eleanor didn’t take it.
Instead, she glanced at Conrad.
“A word. Now.”
Without another glance at Eurydice, Eleanor turned and strode away—fully expecting Conrad to follow.
Conrad sighed, glancing at Eurydice briefly before muttering, “I won’t be long.”
Then he followed his mother, disappearing into the crowd.
Eurydice let out a slow breath.
“Well,” she muttered. “That went great.”
But before she could even process it—
Richard Montague, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke.
“You,” he said, eyes sharp. “Walk with me.”
Eurydice stared.
“…Excuse me?”
Richard simply turned. “I won’t repeat myself.”
Eurydice hesitated.
But something told her—
Saying no wasn’t an option.
 
Eurydice wasn’t sure what she expected from Richard Montague, but as she followed him through the gala, one thing was clear—
This wasn’t going to be a pleasant chat.
The Montague patriarch was a commanding presence. Even without saying much, he exuded authority, the kind that came from years of being the most powerful man in any room.
And now, he was leading her away from the crowd, toward a more private part of the ballroom.
It wasn’t until they reached a quieter balcony area—overlooking the glowing city below—that he finally stopped.
Then, slowly, he turned to face her.
His gaze was calculating. Cold.
Eurydice straightened, refusing to look intimidated.
She might not be wealthy or powerful, but she wasn’t going to let some billionaire scare her.
Finally, Richard spoke.
“You’re not who I expected.”
Eurydice raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You guys really need to work on your greetings. First your wife, now you.”
Richard didn’t react to her sarcasm.
He studied her for another long moment, then said, “How much?”
Eurydice blinked. “Excuse me?”
Richard’s gaze didn’t waver. “How much do you want to walk away from this arrangement?”
Eurydice stared at him.
Oh, wow. We’re just jumping straight to bribery, huh?
She folded her arms, tilting her head. “Huh. I expected this conversation to at least have a little buildup.”
Richard remained unfazed. “I don’t waste time.”
Eurydice let out a slow breath, considering.
She could take the money. She could walk away, avoid dealing with this mess entirely.
But something about the assumption that she could be bought off so easily?
It annoyed her.
So, instead of answering, she simply said, “And what makes you think I’d take the offer?”
Richard’s lips curled slightly, like he already knew the answer.
“You’re not one of us.” His voice was matter-of-fact, not cruel—just stating a truth. “You come from a working-class background. Your mother runs a small bakery, barely turning a profit. Your art career is unstable at best. You’ve struggled to make ends meet for years.”
Eurydice’s jaw clenched, but she said nothing.
Richard took a step closer. “So I’ll ask again. How much?”
Eurydice exhaled sharply, forcing a smile. “I don’t know, Mr. Montague. How much would you charge to fake an engagement with your son?”
Richard’s eyes narrowed.
Then—
To her surprise—
He chuckled.
It was low, brief, but undeniably amused.
“Hm.” He studied her again, this time with a flicker of something new in his expression.
Interest.
“You’re not easily rattled,” he noted.
Eurydice shrugged. “I work in customer service.”
Richard smirked slightly at that. “And yet, you expect me to believe this is real?”
Eurydice tilted her head, considering him.
Then she said, “Let me ask you something.”
Richard raised an eyebrow.
“If I were some wealthy heiress, from a perfectly respectable background, would you still be questioning this engagement?”
Richard was silent.
Not because she was wrong.
But because they both knew she was right.
Finally, Richard exhaled, shaking his head. “You remind me of someone.”
Eurydice frowned. “Who?”
Richard didn’t answer.
Instead, he turned back toward the ballroom, adjusting his cufflinks. “I won’t stop this arrangement. But don’t expect my approval.”
Eurydice smirked. “Oh, trust me. I wasn’t holding my breath.”
Richard glanced at her one last time, assessing. Then, without another word, he strode back inside—leaving her alone on the balcony.
Eurydice let out a long breath, running a hand through her hair.
Well.
That went better than expected.
Maybe.
She wasn’t sure if she had just passed some kind of test—
Or if she had just declared war.