Modernist romance, love and writing: The heroine who knows her worth

There's a reason I was completely absorbed with the Santangelo saga when I was fifteen years old. (See for example Chances by Jackie Collins). Lucky Santangelo was (and still is) the ultimate heroine; she had class, style, sophistication and many male admirers. She didn't teeter in her heels, she strode with purpose, she played business roulette and won because she had balls. She knew what she wanted, and most of all, she knew how to get it. I love heroines who are fearless in the face of death, and can expertly turn the tables on those who attempt to manipulate her. But does this mean in the good old-fashioned romance-kind-of-way the girl will always get the guy?

Oh no. Not in my romantic reading or in my writing. I don't want to see 'boy meets girl, end up together'. Crafting the story word by word, letting the lovers meet, fall in love, yet keep their own independent lives is modernist chic. If the hero of this story has a use for the heroine for a while, she can play the game with him, and maybe even better. Of course, when he realises he truly does love her and tries to stop playing the games he created, the dialogue would go something like this:

Him: 'I'm sorry I broke your heart.' 

Her: 'Don't fret it honey, you were never really worthy of it in the first place.'

And that's what Lucky would have said too.