The moment Eurydice and Conrad stepped out of the Montague estate, the weight of the conversation with his parents still lingered between them.
The chauffeur opened the car door, and Eurydice slid into the passenger seat, resisting the urge to let out a dramatic sigh of exhaustion.
Conrad followed, silent and unreadable, but the way his jaw was tensed slightly made it clear
He was not happy.
 
The limo pulled away from the estate, gliding smoothly down the tree-lined roads of the exclusive neighborhood.
For a few minutes, the ride was silent.
Then—
Eurydice turned to Conrad, tilting her head.
“So…” she said casually. “Are we going to talk about the fact that your cousin apparently has a thing for me?”
Conrad’s grip on his phone tightened slightly.
“Drop it,” he said flatly.
Eurydice raised an eyebrow. “Ohhh, so it does bother you.”
Conrad finally looked at her, expression unreadable. “He’s always been a problem.”
Eurydice blinked. “Wow. Okay. Love the mysterious rich family drama, but care to elaborate?”
Conrad didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he turned back toward the window, watching the city pass by, fingers tapping lightly against his knee.
Eurydice waited patiently, knowing that if she pushed too much, he’d shut down completely.
Finally—
His voice was calm, but colder than usual.
“He wants what he can’t have.”
Eurydice’s brows furrowed slightly. “That sounds… personal.”
Conrad’s gaze didn’t waver. “It is.”
A beat of silence passed between them.
Then—
Eurydice let out a slow exhale, leaning back against the seat.
“Well, if it helps, I’m not interested in him,” she said lightly. “I mean, yeah, he’s good-looking in that I’m-a-rich-troublemaker-who-thinks-he’s-charming kind of way, but I don’t do arrogant playboys.”
Conrad’s lips twitched slightly, but the tension in his shoulders remained.
“You do realize I’m also an arrogant rich guy.”
Eurydice smirked. “Yeah, but you’re a different breed of insufferable.”
Conrad exhaled, shaking his head. “That’s not reassuring.”
Eurydice shrugged. “Take it as a compliment, Montague.”
For the first time since lunch, the tension in the air shifted just slightly.
But Eurydice could tell—
Something about his cousin still bothered him.
And she had a feeling—
This wasn’t the last time she’d hear about it.
 
By the time they returned to Conrad’s ridiculously oversized mansion, Eurydice was ready to forget everything about the Montague family and their judgmental stares.
She kicked off her heels at the door, stretching dramatically.
“Okay. I don’t know about you, but I need sugar after that traumatic experience.”
Conrad loosened his tie, looking at her in mild amusement. “Traumatic?”
Eurydice walked straight to the kitchen, completely ignoring him.
When Conrad followed, he paused at the sight before him.
His pristine, untouched kitchen—which was usually only used by the household staff—was now being ransacked by Eurydice Santiago.
She had already pulled out a mixing bowl, sugar, flour, and eggs, setting them haphazardly on the counter.
Conrad crossed his arms. “What are you doing?”
Eurydice grinned at him, cracking an egg.
“Baking,” she said simply. “Since your family drained my soul, I need sweets to recover.”
Conrad sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We have a chef.”
“Yes, but,” Eurydice said dramatically, “where’s the fun in that?”
Conrad gave her a blank stare. “You think baking is fun?”
Eurydice rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. You probably have your meals scheduled like some kind of corporate robot.”
Conrad exhaled sharply. “That’s called meal planning.”
Eurydice grinned, flicking flour at him. “That’s called boring.”
Conrad narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the speck of flour on his sleeve.
“Did you just—”
Eurydice smirked, holding up another handful of flour.
“Do not start a war you can’t win, Santiago.”
Eurydice grinned wider. “Oh? You think you’d win?”
Conrad’s eyes narrowed slightly.
A silent challenge passed between them.
Then, with zero hesitation, Eurydice flicked more flour at him and ran.
Conrad sighed heavily, rolling up his sleeves as he chased after her.
This woman is going to be the death of me.
 
Conrad Montague was not amused.
There was flour on his sleeve, his usually pristine kitchen was a disaster, and worst of all—
Eurydice was still smirking triumphantly as she stood across the counter, completely unfazed.
“You’re insufferable,” Conrad muttered, brushing flour off his cuff.
Eurydice grinned, licking a bit of cookie dough off her finger. “And yet, you still let me live here.”
Conrad exhaled slowly, like he was reconsidering all his life choices.
But instead of kicking her out, he simply leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her work.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” he asked.
Eurydice scoffed, cracking another egg into the bowl. “Excuse you. I happen to be a fantastic baker. My mom owns a bakery, remember?”
Conrad raised an eyebrow. “You never mentioned whether you actually help.”
Eurydice gasped dramatically. “How dare you question my skills?”
Conrad smirked slightly, but didn’t say anything.
Instead, he watched as she mixed ingredients with practiced ease, moving through the kitchen like she actually knew what she was doing.
Which, honestly, surprised him a little.
 
As she rolled out the dough, Eurydice started talking—not in her usual teasing, dramatic way, but in a casual, comfortable manner, like she wasn’t even thinking about it.
“I used to help my mom at the bakery a lot when I was younger,” she said. “Not because she needed me to, but because I liked it. The whole process of making something from scratch, watching people enjoy it... It’s kinda nice, you know?”
Conrad tilted his head slightly, listening. “So why didn’t you take over the bakery?”
Eurydice shrugged. “Because art is my thing. Baking is great, but painting? It’s... different.”
She cut out a piece of dough, eyes softening slightly.
“When I paint, it’s like... everything else just fades away. No stress, no expectations. Just me and the canvas.”
Conrad watched her for a moment, taking in the way she spoke so freely, so openly about something she loved.
It was... unexpected.
“You talk about it like it’s your escape,” he noted.
Eurydice paused, blinking.
Then, she grinned. “Wow. Insightful, Montague. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
Conrad rolled his eyes. “And yet, you still find ways to be annoying.”
Eurydice laughed, going back to kneading the dough.
Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she threw a question back at him.
“Okay, serious topic now—if you had to pick one last meal before you die, what would it be?”
Conrad gave her a blank stare. “That’s your serious question?”
Eurydice shrugged. “Hey, food is important.”
Conrad thought for a moment. “Something simple. Steak, maybe.”
Eurydice groaned. “Ugh. Of course, you’d pick something rich and boring.”
Conrad smirked. “And what would you pick?”
Eurydice didn’t even hesitate. “Chocolate chip cookies.”
Conrad blinked. “Cookies?”
“Homemade cookies,” Eurydice corrected, wagging a finger at him. “Not that fancy, overpriced stuff rich people eat.”
Conrad tilted his head slightly, watching her. “You’re a strange person.”
Eurydice grinned, placing the cookie dough onto a tray. “And yet, here you are, willingly having a conversation with me.”
Conrad didn’t respond to that, but Eurydice swore she saw the corners of his lips twitch slightly before he turned away.
About thirty minutes later, the cookies were done baking.
Eurydice pulled the tray out of the oven, the scent of warm chocolate and butter filling the kitchen.
She sighed happily, setting them on the counter to cool. “Smell that? That’s the scent of victory.”
Conrad, standing across from her, gave the cookies a skeptical look. “They smell fine.”
Eurydice narrowed her eyes. “Oh my God. If you don’t try one, I will be personally offended.”
Conrad exhaled, picking up a cookie.
He took a slow bite, chewing thoughtfully.
Eurydice watched him like a hawk, waiting for his reaction.
After a few seconds, Conrad simply said—
“They’re good.”
Eurydice stared at him.
“That’s it?” she demanded. “That’s all I get? A they’re good?”
Conrad took another bite, completely unbothered. “I don’t know what else you want.”
Eurydice dramatically collapsed onto the counter. “Unbelievable. I put my heart and soul into these, and all you give me is a basic review?”
Conrad smirked slightly, finishing the cookie. “Would you rather I lie?”
Eurydice groaned, grabbing a cookie for herself. “You have zero appreciation for the little things in life.”
Conrad picked up another cookie without hesitation, taking another bite.
Eurydice paused, eyes narrowing. “Wait. How many have you had?”
Conrad didn’t answer.
Eurydice gasped.
“You do like them!” she accused.
Conrad, expression unreadable, simply reached for another cookie.
Eurydice smirked knowingly.
“Ohhh, I see how it is. Too proud to admit you actually like something I made.”
Conrad gave her a flat look. “You’re reading too much into this.”
Eurydice grinned, crossing her arms. “Admit it, Montague. You like my cookies.”
Conrad sighed, chewing slowly.
Then, in the most reluctant, least emotional tone possible, he muttered—
“They’re… acceptable.”
Eurydice burst into laughter. “That is the weakest compliment I’ve ever heard.”
Conrad didn’t respond, but she swore he reached for another cookie just a little too quickly.
And Eurydice?
She considered that a victory.