[ESTELLE]
I woke up the next morning with a leg draped over Damien's waist and my hair an absolute bird's nest. And by bird, I mean possibly an angry crow—one that fought a war against a tornado and lost.
Beside me, Damien was already awake, leaning against the headboard, his phone in hand, his hair slightly tousled in that unfair, smoldering way that should be illegal before 9 a.m.
I squinted at him. "Are we going to talk about last night?"
He looked down at me and smiled. Not the charming, mysterious smile he gave people during company meetings or on the cover of Forbes—but something softer. Warmer. Real. "We could," he said. "But I thought we didn't want to ruin the mystery."
I groaned and flopped onto my back. "Typical. I give you my everything, and you give me cryptic banter."
He chuckled and set his phone down. "Fine. We're a couple now. Officially. You won. "
