Holy shit. I did it.
The smile on my face could've wrapped around the world twice over as I tried to refrain from skipping toward the awaiting vehicle my bodyguard was leaning against. That would've been completely unprofessional and I didn't need anybody looking at me sideways.
"We can go now," I declared smoothly, swallowing to smother the butterflies in my belly as I slid into the backseat of the vehicle. It was time to go shopping and I was completely intent on getting my hands on the best dress money could buy for me.
Paris was absolutely gorgeous as we drove through the centre, taking Champs-Élysées avenue and passing the Arc de Triomphe, a sight I didn't think I'd get to see in person until much later in life.
Pretty soon, my bodyguard, Hera, was parallel parking down a street in the Marais and we both got out to survey the district's wonders. I was quickly swept up by fabrics and cuts, textiles and silhouettes, prices and availability.
