Without the weight of their families, without the looming presence of their responsibilities, their conversation drifted into places it had never gone before.
They weren't discussing global markets, underground alliances, or the delicate balance of power they both controlled.
Instead, they talked about things that had no consequence in the grand scheme of the world—but somehow, felt more important than anything else.
"I used to love cotton candy as a kid," Anastasia admitted as they passed a small vendor selling the pink and blue spun sugar.
Vincent raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement. "Used to?"
She gave him a side glance, smirking. "I stopped when I realized it was just sugar and air. It felt like a scam."
Vincent let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You—one of the most intelligent people in the world—felt scammed by cotton candy?"
"I was five," she said, rolling her eyes.
"That's no excuse."
She nudged him playfully, and he responded by pulling her closer, as if to remind her that she was his to hold.
Their laughter was soft, blending into the noise of the city.
This was different.
For once, they weren't playing a game.
For once, they weren't hiding their true selves.
It was just them.
And it was perfect.
They continued walking, talking about everything and nothing at the same time.
Anastasia told him about the first book she ever read—a story about an unstoppable queen who ruled over a kingdom of ice. Vincent told her about the first fight he ever won—not in a boardroom, but with his fists, when he was only eight years old.
They talked about the things they loved, the things they hated.
They talked about memories, dreams, fleeting moments from their childhood that had nothing to do with power, wealth, or influence.
And in that moment, they weren't rulers, they weren't untouchable forces.
They were just Vincent and Anastasia.
And that was enough.