Sloane barely slept.
She had spent hours pacing her room, replaying the encounter at her door in her mind, trying to ignore the heat still curling under her skin. It wasn't just frustration. It wasn't just irritation. It was something far more dangerous, far more intoxicating.
Vincent Saint-Clair had done something no man had ever done before.
He had walked away first.
And that was unacceptable!
By the time the sun rose over Paris, she was done playing defense. If Vincent wanted to start a war, she was going to end it.
A plan had already formed in her mind by the time she arrived at Montgomery Atelier's headquarters that morning. She strode through the sleek glass doors in her signature heels, her fitted black dress sculpted to perfection, her sunglasses shielding her eyes from the morning light.
The entire office buzzed with energy, a carefully curated blend of power and exclusivity. Employees straightened when they saw her, assistants rushed to keep up, and executives lowered their voices as she passed.
Sloane Montgomery didn't just own the room, she owned the world it existed in.
Her assistant, Lena, was already waiting by the elevator with a tablet in hand. Efficient as always.
"There's a board meeting at ten," Lena reported, falling into step beside her. "Your father called. He wants a meeting to discuss the final details for the engagement press conference this weekend."
Sloane barely acknowledged the information as they stepped inside the private elevator, the doors sliding shut behind them. "Schedule it for this afternoon. But first, I need you to set up a meeting with Saint-Clair Holdings."
Lena hesitated. "Saint-Clair Holdings? As in, Vincent Saint-Clair?"
Sloane removed her sunglasses, tucking them into her bag. "Unless you know another Saint-Clair who recently bought half of Monaco."
Lena blinked, clearly intrigued, but she didn't question it. "I'll reach out to his office and see when he's available."
Sloane smirked. "Oh, don't bother with his office. Call him directly."
Lena hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Understood."
As the elevator ascended, Sloane leaned against the mirrored wall, exhaling slowly. She could already picture the look on Vincent's face when he saw her name flashing on his screen, the momentary flicker of irritation before he picked up the call. She didn't care how much of a lead he thought he had.
By the end of the day, she was going to take it back.
Sloane didn't have to wait long.
By the time she reached her office, a corner suite with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Paris skyline, Lena had already sent the request. And as expected, Vincent didn't ignore it.
Her phone vibrated on her desk.
She let it ring twice before answering, leaning back in her chair as she pressed the phone to her ear.
"Saint-Clair."
"To what do I owe the honor, fiancée?"
Sloane exhaled a quiet laugh, twirling a pen between her fingers. "Drop the act, Vincent. I need a meeting."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
She could hear the faint clink of ice against glass, the telltale sign that he was either already drinking or perfectly pretending to be relaxed.
"And what, exactly, does my darling fiancée need to discuss?"
Sloane smirked, tilting her head slightly as she glanced at the contract on her desk. The one outlining the terms of their one-year, strictly business engagement.
"I want to renegotiate part of the deal."
That got his attention.
A brief pause. "Which part?"
"The public terms," she said smoothly. "If I'm expected to play the doting, lovesick fiancée in front of the cameras, then I want equal leverage over how you're portrayed."
Vincent chuckled, low and amused. "Sweetheart, you already have the world eating out of your palm. What more could you possibly want?"
Sloane let the silence stretch for a moment, let him wonder. Then, with practiced ease, she said, "I want an exclusive feature."
His breath hitched, so slight that anyone else would have missed it.
But Sloane? She caught it.
"Elaborate," Vincent said, his tone carefully neutral.
She traced her fingertips over the glossy front page of a luxury business magazine on her desk. The one that had his name on it.
"A feature," she repeated, tapping the cover lightly. "Saint-Clair Holdings and Montgomery Atelier. A power couple special. Something the press can sink their teeth into, a controlled narrative that keeps us both untouchable."
Vincent hummed. "You mean a feature that keeps you untouchable."
Sloane's lips curled. "Don't pretend you don't benefit from this just as much as I do. The market loves a perfect story. A wedding between two business empires? The press would have a field day."
Vincent was quiet for a moment, then let out a slow, deliberate sigh.
"You never stop scheming, do you?"
Sloane laughed softly. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
He chuckled, and for a moment, the tension between them shifted.
Not softer. Just… different.
"I'll think about it," Vincent finally said.
Sloane smirked. "You'll say yes."
"Will I?"
"Yes," she murmured, leaning back in her chair. "Because you love control, Saint-Clair. And this? This gives you control over the press before they spin the narrative for you."
Another pause. Then a quiet, reluctant exhale.
"I hate that you're right," Vincent muttered.
Sloane grinned. "I know."
For a second, neither of them spoke.
And for the first time since they met, the silence wasn't a weapon.
It was a pause. A breath. A moment neither of them acknowledged.
Finally, Vincent broke it. "Fine. Send over the details."
Sloane's victory was smooth, effortless. "I'll have my team draft the outline by the end of the day."
"Of course you will."
She could almost hear the smirk in his voice.
Then, just before she could hang up, Vincent murmured, "You're still thinking about last night."
Sloane stilled.
The shift was instant, the air crackling through the phone.
She didn't react. Didn't let herself react.
Instead, she smiled, slow and wicked.
"So are you," she whispered, then hung up.
And for the first time all day, Sloane felt like she had finally won.