"Oh God. What have I done?"

Nick was out on the balcony of his suite, nursing a beer. He had just done what was possibly the most difficult thing he'd ever done in his life. The hardest thing anyone had ever done, as far as he was concerned.

On the other hand, now that his anger had subsided he realized something important.

She did want him. Nearly as badly as he wanted her. He hadn’t been imagining things. This particular electricity went two ways.

But he wanted more, dammit.

Getting her to admit that it was more than just an attraction was going to be the tricky part. He shook his head. At some point in the past few weeks he'd gone from wanting to strangle her, to wanting to bed her to wanting- what exactly? He wanted more than a passing affair.

He wanted her to be his.

He stared down into the street below. The paparazzi had finally figured out which hotel he was in. He hoped Sabrina wouldn't be too upset when she realized they weren't just there for him.

They were there for her too.

"Got them!"

Nick turned and saw Marley holding a huge stack of newspapers and magazines. He felt his stomach clench, hoping his plan would work.

"Let's have a look then."

He picked up a magazine, flipping through it. It was mostly pictures of starlets and people he didn't recognize.

"Who are these people?"

Marley peeked over his shoulder.

"Reality TV stars, mate."

Nick rolled his eyes and flipped back to the cover. It was spilt down the middle with two large photos on either side. On the right there was a picture of Sabrina at some event she must have gone to for the record label. She was wearing a black dress with those impossibly high heels she wore sometimes.

She looked stunning. Professional. Beautiful. Cold.

But that coldness was a lie. She was full of heat. A facade meant to protect her from all the pain the world could dole out.

The other side of the cover was a picture of Nick accepting an MTV award a few years back. He frowned. He'd forgotten about that night. What had the award been for anyway?

Ah yes. He smiled as he remembered.

Somewhere, in one of his houses, he had a box of those Moonman awards. A couple of Grammys too.

He used one of those as a door stop.

Maybe if he settled down, he could put that sort of thing on a mantle. That sounded nice. Of course, in his mind, she would be there too. Baking cookies. Hanging stockings at Christmas. Helping him polish his gold records.

And his knob.

He tossed the magazine back into the pile. He stared down at it and smiled grimly. Splashed across their pictures were the words "DATE NICK!"

In fact, most of the magazines had some sort of entreaty on his behalf. It was just the beginning though. He was going to war against the woman he was falling in love with. She was a worthy adversary but it didn't matter.

Soon she'd learn. He was playing for keeps. And he'd do anything to win.