Galas were not Damian's favorite place to be, especially during the holidays. But his father had said appearances were necessary, and if he was to be the heir he had to be at social events. After two days of bickering with his old man, they came upon a compromise. Damian would bring you with him, and he would behave at the gala.

He did in fact bring you with him. Did he behave? Not a chance.

It was cold, a few weeks before December, and Damian was dragging you out of the fancy, warm house and into the gardens in the middle of the gala. He had a mischeivous grin on his face, placing his blazer jacket on your shoulders to keep you warm. It was dark, and the string lights were the only thing lighting the path.

He was holding your heels while you giggled and ran through the gardens, holding up your dress so it didn't get dirty. "I'd much rather be doing this." He led you to a gazebo, taking your hand and dropping your heels. He wrapped you up, swaying with you to imaginary music.

"This is so much more enjoyable than being in there with stuck up socialites." He murmured in your ear, the black blazer still on you. He was all dressed up for this gala, his hair done perfectly, dressed entirely in black, and he smelled like expensive cologne.

"We can go back in a minute, Habibti." He led you in a gentle waltz as the first snowflakes started to fall. "For now, I want to stay here. With you."