Conrad Montague had never been a man prone to hesitation.
But at this moment—standing on the back terrace, watching Eurydice paint—
He hesitated.
Because for once, she wasn’t teasing him, pushing his buttons, or trying to annoy him.
She was just—herself.
Completely immersed.
Completely unaware.
Completely… beautiful.
Something unsettling stirred in his chest.
He ignored it.
Because before he could think about it too much—
He made his presence known.
The Interruption
“I didn’t know you were capable of silence.”
Eurydice froze mid-brushstroke.
Her shoulders tensed, and for a brief second, she looked… guilty.
Then, just as quickly, she relaxed, tilting her head toward him.
“Oh, look who’s home early,” she said, voice light and teasing. “Miss me already, Montague?”
Conrad folded his arms, walking toward her. “Not even a little.”
Eurydice grinned. “Liar.”
He didn’t respond.
His gaze flickered to the painting in front of her—and Eurydice immediately shifted to block it.
Suspicious.
Conrad raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
“…Move.”
“No.”
Conrad took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Eurydice.”
She huffed dramatically. “Ugh, fine, but if you laugh, I’m kicking you into the fountain.”
Before he could question that threat, she hesitantly shifted to the side, revealing the unfinished painting.
And Conrad?
He stilled.
Because it wasn’t just some abstract landscape or a random still life.
It was him.
His sharp features, the slight crease between his brows, the way the light fell on his jawline, his suit, his eyes.
Not just a quick sketch—a detailed, striking, almost painfully realistic portrait.
Conrad didn’t know how to react.
He glanced at her. “You painted me.”
Eurydice crossed her arms. “Wow, what a deduction. You’re so perceptive, Montague.”
He ignored the sarcasm.
“Why?”
She blinked. “What do you mean, why?”
“You could have painted anything. Why me?”
For once, Eurydice didn’t have a quick answer.
Her gaze flickered away, fingers tightening around the brush.
“…I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just started painting, and—” She hesitated. “And you happened.”
Something shifted in the air between them.
Conrad should have let it go.
Should have ignored the way that made him feel.
But instead—
He stepped closer.
Too close.
Eurydice looked up at him, eyes searching his like she was trying to read something unreadable.
For a moment—
Just a brief, fleeting moment—
It felt like something unspoken hovered between them.
Something dangerous.
Something neither of them wanted to name.
And then—
Eurydice snorted.
“Don’t look so flattered, Montague. It’s not like I did it on purpose.”
Just like that, the spell was broken.
Conrad stepped back, his expression unreadable. “Good to know.”
Eurydice studied him for a second. “You’re acting weird.”
“You always act weird.”
“Yeah, but I’m fun—you just look constipated.”
Conrad exhaled sharply. “I should have stayed at work.”
Eurydice grinned. “You say that, but here you are.”
He didn’t respond.
Didn’t tell her that he had come home early on purpose.
Didn’t admit that watching her paint had done something to him that he wasn’t ready to understand.
Instead—
He glanced at the canvas one last time, then turned toward the house.
“We have a problem,” he said instead.
Eurydice tilted her head. “Oh? Finally realized you have feelings for me?”
Conrad ignored her.
“Vincent’s coming.”
The amusement in Eurydice’s eyes shifted into something sharper.
Then—
A slow, knowing smirk.
“Ohoho,” she murmured. “Now this is going to be fun.”
Conrad sighed. “For you, maybe.”
“For both of us.” She stretched lazily, grinning. “I love a good family drama.”
Conrad muttered something under his breath, rubbing his temple.
Eurydice leaned forward, chin resting on her palm.
“Tell me, Montague,” she said, voice sweet as honey. “What exactly are you so worried about?”
Conrad met her gaze—and for the first time, he didn’t have an answer.
Because the truth?
He wasn’t worried about Vincent.
He was worried about himself.
About how easy it was to watch Eurydice paint.
About how much he didn’t hate coming home to her.
About how seeing his own face on her canvas made his heart beat a little too fast.
But instead of saying any of that—
He simply turned away.
“Get ready,” he said. “He’ll be here soon.”
And with that, he walked back inside—leaving Eurydice smiling after him, far too amused for his liking.
Eurydice had just put away her brushes when the butler entered the garden, his usual calm demeanor slightly strained.
“Sir, Mr. Vincent Montague has arrived.”
Conrad exhaled sharply. “Of course, he has.”
Eurydice grinned. “Showtime.”
But before the butler could leave—
He hesitated.
“Sir… your father and stepmother have also arrived. Unannounced.”
Conrad stilled.
Eurydice’s grin widened.
“Oh, now this is getting interesting.”
 
By the time they entered the grand sitting room, Vincent was already comfortably seated, legs crossed, wearing his signature infuriating smirk.
Across from him sat Charles Montague, Conrad’s father, with his usual cold, calculating expression. Next to him, dressed in elegant pastels, was Conrad’s stepmother, Eleanor, who looked far too pleased with herself.
Eurydice raised an eyebrow. “Quite the gathering. Should I have brought wine?”
Vincent chuckled. “No need, darling. I’m already enjoying this.”
Conrad shot him a deadpan look. “Cut to the chase.”
His father folded his hands together, eyes sharp. “We’ve had enough of this charade, Conrad.”
Eurydice blinked. “Charade?”
Charles turned to her. “Let’s not pretend, Miss Santiago. We know exactly why my son is doing this.”
Eurydice tilted her head. “Oh? Do tell.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “To stop the company from falling into Vincent’s hands. But this little stunt—this fake engagement—has gone on long enough.”
Conrad’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t a stunt.”
Charles leaned forward. “Isn’t it?”
Eleanor sighed, shaking her head. “Darling, we understand why you’re desperate. But honestly, this is beneath you. If you’re not serious about this girl, let’s end this madness before it embarrasses the family further.”
Eurydice placed a hand over her heart, gasping dramatically. “Oh, Conrad, how dare you not be serious about me?”
Vincent laughed. “She’s delightful. I might steal her from you.”
Conrad shot him a glare.
His father’s expression darkened. “Conrad. If this is nothing but a ploy, I suggest you reconsider before it’s too late. End this before the board loses faith in you completely.”
Eurydice, despite the tension, was thrilled.
She loved messy family drama—especially when she got to be in the center of it.
But Conrad?
He looked furious.
And then—
Without a single warning—
He turned to her.
And kissed her.
Eurydice had expected many things.
A heated argument? Sure.
Another sarcastic remark? Definitely.
A dramatic exit? Possibly.
But not this.
Not Conrad Montague grabbing her by the waist, pulling her close, and kissing her like he had something to prove.
The room vanished.
Vincent? Gone.
Charles and Eleanor? Didn’t exist.
The entire world? Irrelevant.
There was only the press of Conrad’s lips against hers, firm and demanding, his grip possessive, as if daring anyone to question them now.
Eurydice should have pulled away.
Should have laughed it off.
Should have made a teasing remark.
But instead—
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his suit.
And for just a moment—
She let herself lean into it.
When they finally pulled apart, the room was dead silent.
Vincent looked mildly impressed.
Eleanor looked shocked.
And Charles?
Charles looked furious.
Conrad, voice perfectly even, turned to his father.
“Still think it’s a stunt?”
Charles’s jaw tightened. “This doesn’t change anything.”
Conrad’s expression was unreadable. “Doesn’t it?”
Eurydice, still slightly breathless, finally spoke.
“Well,” she said, tilting her head. “That was fun.”
Vincent laughed outright. “I love her.”
Charles shot them both one last glare before standing. “This conversation isn’t over.”
Eleanor followed, looking thoroughly scandalized.
Vincent, still smirking, leaned closer to Eurydice. “I think you’re more dangerous than he is.”
Eurydice grinned. “Oh, darling. You have no idea.”
Vincent chuckled and left, following the rest of the family out.
As soon as the doors closed—
Eurydice turned to Conrad, eyebrow raised.
“So,” she said slowly, “that was dramatic.”
Conrad ran a hand through his hair. “I panicked.”
Eurydice laughed.
And despite everything—
Conrad couldn’t help but smirk.
Because, for the first time—
He wasn’t entirely sure if that kiss had been just for show.