𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥 | 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

28: 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

I tried my best to walk up the stairs with the slight pain in my abdomen. I've been craving brownies for a while and I was embarrassingly bummed out when Damien arrived and I didn't see them in his hand. They're by far my favourite dessert.

With a hand on my stomach, I walked to the closet and picked out something to wear. Judging by the whistling of the trees outside I could tell it was cold, the guards were even wearing jackets today.

I made sure to put a jacket on top of the sweater I wore. I tied my hair into a low bun and attached some ear muffs to the side of my bag for extra measures. I walked down the stairs to meet Damien in the foyer.

I stood in front of a long pole in the foyer and played with the white socks in my hand. As I reached down to put them on, I got a sharp pain in my stomach from the stitches. Damien immediately walked over to my side and grabbed the socks from my hand, placing my boots on the ground.

Confused as to what he was doing, he bent down on one knee and started putting them on for me. Small strands of his black hair fell on his face. I tried to hide the butterflies swarming in my stomach by looking around.

When my boots were on he pats my hips and sighs, "the driver is already outside let's go."

I stare into his eyes for a second, I notice his hat was a little lopsided so I reached up and centred it for him, feeling the thick material of his beanie. "Where'd you get the hat?"

He smiles, "my mother made it. Pro's of having a fashion designer for a mother growing up, I always looked good."

I hum and playfully roll my eyes, "yeah right you did. But I know Cecile doesn't play when it comes to her designs so I'll give it to you."

"You've met her?" He questions opening up the front door for me and walking over to the car already waiting for us below the steps.

"Yeah, I love her. I've met her a few times in Brazil and once in France. Just one of those missions with Charles." He opens the door for me and I climb inside the backseat, waiting for him to do the same.

He slides into the seat next to me and places his hand on my thigh, "what cafe are we going to again?"

"Petit café en Russie." I smile, recalling my favourite cafe in Russia. Somewhere I always went with Scarlett these past years. When I looked over at Damien, I saw him slightly grinning. I couldn't pick my finger at what he found humorous so I rolled my eyes instead, fastening my seatbelt.

We sat in comfortable silence as the car drove to my favourite spot in Russia. Soon enough, we got to downtown Moscow where a fancy café came into sight. The car slumped in front of the shop, many people sitting inside and conversing.