William wasn't one for romance.

He was cold, abrasive, unrefined. He didn't care how his victims felt, he didn't care what happened to them. He was detached, aloof —

Until you.

You, the one victim they couldn't get rid of. You, with eyes that could melt metal and an attitude fiery enough to burn the sun. You had caught him by the heart and wouldn't let go.

He wasn't used to feeling so mushy, so soft. Part of him loathed it. The other, much louder part of him yearned for it — for you.

Now, he couldn't help but stare at you as you walked around the garden.