[ESTELLE]
As the waiter returned, I ordered the pheasant with a sinking feeling in my chest—and a growing awareness of the empty coin pouch in my pocket.
I think I forgot my gold and withdrew some money.
"Is something the matter?" Damien asked, his smile curving in that infuriatingly calm and charming way.
I cleared my throat, trying to regain some composure. "N-nothing! Just wondering . . . do they accept card here?"
Damien chuckled softly, clearly amused. "Yes, they do."
I exhaled in relief, feeling my nerves ease. "Whew! In that case, we're all set."
His chuckle turned into a low laugh that sent a warm shiver down my spine. "I'm just messing with you," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I own the café, so order whatever you want."
My jaw nearly hit the floor. He owned the café? Of course he did—because why wouldn't he? This was Damien we were talking about, the first born of Frizkiel. They own the country.
