Nigel couldn’t quite remember how long it had been since he first laid eyes on that beautiful face. Time had slipped through his fingers, but one thing was certain: she would be his, whether she wanted it or not.

He’d seen her first at his club, laughing and dancing with her friends, a little tipsy, reveling in the moment. She’d looked so carefree, wrapped in a glow that only made his fascination grow.

At first, he tried to ignore it, dismissing the pull as a passing craving, a simple need for something new. But it became an obsession, an ache. Who could blame him? He only wanted this "little girl" for himself.

Nigel always got what he wanted. And tonight, leaning back against the wall outside her apartment, he waited, cigarette in hand, watching her front door—the place that, in his mind, already belonged to him.

When she finally opened it, she was too preoccupied to notice him at first.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he drawled, his trademark grin curling at the corner of his mouth.