Chapter Forty-Five
Frankie was lying on his side in bed, eagerly watching the door for the arrival of Johnny and the laptop computer. The cell phone was still cradled in his hand as if he were protectively guarding it. He called out excitedly when Johnny entered his room.
"Hey, Johnny. Come here, quick!" Frankie's bright blue eyes intently followed Johnny's movements in the room, and he sat up, snapping his fingers when he saw what his bodyguard was carrying. "Da computer," he whispered reverently as he held out his hands to receive it.
Johnny pulled up a chair and sat down. His eyes glanced at the wheelchair and back to Frankie. "You look good in that sweatsuit," he observed. "Have you been up and around?" Johnny's green eyes carefully watched his boss since he'd been worried after the early morning phone call and Frankie's terror at being stuck under the bed.
"Thanks," Frankie said distractedly. He opened up the laptop and shot a look at Johnny. "Ya. I've been up. Luke took me to see his new house. I have my own room. I need to find an architect."
"What?" Johnny laughed. "Thinking of adding your own suite?"
"No. Custom designed furniture," Frankie rattled off. "Danish modern."
"Oh," Johnny replied. "Recreating your apartment."
"Yeah," Frankie sighed. "Da mansion is gone, but I want my own place like before."
"It's hard adjusting to so many changes," Johnny observed. Privately, he wondered how Frankie could ever adapt to so many changes involving death, destruction and mayhem. Would the realities of a new family offset the losses?
"It must be hard on ya," Frankie noted sympathetically as his sad, blue eyes ran over Johnny. "Da organization is gone or it will be. Dat's da only place you worked, isn't it?"
"Pretty much. It's been a long time." Johnny tactfully emitted the fact that employment with Frank was lifelong - as long as your life lasted, that is.
"You can still work for me," Frankie offered with a careful voice. "You don't have to leave or nothin.'" He tensed up and looked away, waiting for Johnny's reply.
Johnny's eyes softened when he realized what Frankie was really wanting to know. "I'll always be here for you," he stated gently. "You can call me at any time, and if you need anything, I'll be right there." He tapped Frankie on his shoulder and looked him in the eye. "We're going to both exit this business. We'll go together. But you'll always be my friend." Frankie gulped and swallowed the lump in his throat. "What if I need a bodyguard?" he squeaked.
"Hopefully you won't need one when you're out of the business," Johnny stated reasonably. "You can lead a normal life...well, as normal as someone with your brains and personality can handle."
"Hey," Frankie answered half laughing.
"What do you need that for?" Johnny questioned as he nodded toward the laptop. "What are you planning?"
"I dunno," Frankie said evasively. "We'll have to see." He met Johnny's worried gaze. "It's not about da business! It's personal."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"
Frankie shrugged. "A man's gotta do what he's gotta do. You know dat."
Johnny rubbed his forehead. "You're giving me a headache."
"Take an aspirin," Frankie laughed.
"So, you're going to hold off on a decision about Corinthos?" Johnny asked, changing the subject. He drummed his fingertips on the arm of his chair and stared at Frankie with intensity. I'm hoping he cools off and considers his options. Last thing we need is another bloodbath of a gangland killing.
"I hate him!" Frankie declared with a fierce anger that made his nostrils flare and his eyes darken. "He's too stupid to have my business. He'll drag it down in a month. Why should I sell to dat nincompoop?" Frankie raised his eyebrows with a dismissive motion. "I have my reputation to consider."
"You won't have a reputation if you're dead," Johnny shot back. "The Mafia tried to kill you a day ago if you recall. They won't stop if you have what they want. Sell to Corinthos and let the Mafia take care of him. You sit back with some cash in your pocket and a smile on your face."
"Whatever," Frankie gritted out, uncomfortable with Johnny questioning his authority. His jaw muscles worked, causing his cheek to twitch. "You just want to get rid of me. Dat's why you want me to sell."
Johnny leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands together as his face took on a serious aspect. "I want you to sell because I want you to live. I worry about you. You're not Frank Smith. You're Frankie, an entirely different person and superior in every aspect in my opinion. You deserve a long, happy life. Now you have the opportunity to be with your new family. They love you and want to get to know you. That's all I ask for you. Yes, I want out of the business for my own reasons. I want my children to be safe. I want to have a relationship with them. And I want you in my life. I'm not going anywhere. I intend to stay in Port Charles."
"Da redhead?" Frankie sniffed.
"Your aunt," Johnny corrected.
"Oh...yeah. But she's still da redhead to you."
"Yes indeed," Johnny smiled broadly.
Frankie's eyes took on a devious gleam. "Help me into da wheelchair before you go," he ordered Johnny. "I hafta use da bathroom," he lied.
~*~*~*~
Frankie cautiously stuck his head out of the bathroom, surveying the room to determine if he were alone. He wheeled himself over to the doorway of his suite and paused. No one's out dere. Good. Frankie looked left and right and quickly wheeled out into the hallway. He rolled down the hall as quickly as he could manage with a ferocious concentration and evil intent. He stopped the chair outside of Nikolas' bedroom. He held his ear to the heavy oak door and slowly turned the doorknob when he decided it was unoccupied.
Frankie snorted when he entered Nikolas' room, closing the door behind him. Da Prince, he sneered to himself as he looked at the fussy antique décor and regal blue velvet curtains. He began searching the room with a wicked precision, opening drawers and peering into closets. Where is it? His fingers drummed on the armrests of the wheelchair while he rapidly thought. Where's his desk? Frankie craned his neck to seek out likely targets and finally found the piece of furniture that he decided looked like a desk. He's got a room like a French pansy. Frankie pulled open an especially large drawer and grinned. Bingo.
Frankie lifted out Nikolas' laptop computer and placed it on the broad expanse of the wooden desktop. He lifted the top and turned on the computer, rubbing his hands together and grinning. After searching for a minute, Frankie pulled out a diskette and inserted it into the side of the computer. He opened Nikolas' email and laughed delightedly as he rolled his eyes. Better learn to delete, stupid.
~*~*~*~
Dr. Jeremiah Hill sat across from Stefan Cassadine in the latter's study. Stefan smiled and sat behind his desk. "How is my stepson?" he asked right away, eager to learn about Frankie's progress.
Dr. Hill crossed his leg and shifted in his chair, a little uncomfortable in the overly formal, heavily decorated environment of Stefan's study, particularly with a horse portrait staring directly at him. "Physically, he's improving. He's mobile, able to get around with the aid of a wheelchair and no longer catheterized. He's still on oxygen and an IV, but is starting on a liquid diet." Dr. Hill paused and laughed. "Of course, he overexerted himself first thing this morning, but he rested and is feeling better now. He was able to go on a short outing with his father this afternoon."
Stefan nodded, a slight frown of concentration on his face. "So you believe he will be medically served by staying here at Wyndemere?"
"To some degree," the doctor replied. "He still needs to see several specialists at the hospital for his pulmonary and blood conditions. And, since he's so impetuous, round the clock nursing care might help. He needs to be watched. His mother and father are concerned because he threatened to hurt his brother and himself."
Stefan ran his fingers over several papers and neatened them into a pile that he planned to file later. He tapped his fingers on the wooden desktop as he considered his next words. "You understand why I specifically sought to hire you."
Dr. Hill nodded and waited for Stefan to continue.
"The boy was abused by his kidnapper, the man who he believed was his father and the man who was murdered in front of him. His upbringing leaves much to be desired. His environment was extremely violent and amoral. I'm concerned about integrating him into this family and the safety of all." Stefan leaned forward and folded his hands together as he stared into the doctor's eyes. "You have a background of working with disturbed juveniles and are completing a residency in adolescent medicine. I value your opinion. What is your assessment of the situation and how can we help this boy?"
"It's a mixed bag," the doctor replied. "From my observations, Frankie was most definitely abused. He is very guarded in his interactions with adults and afraid of touch, as if he constantly expects to be hit. He's having a great deal of emotional turmoil right now because of the death of his father and the subsequent violence, especially his shooting of the man in the hospital. He's depressed to some degree, mostly because of his injuries and emotional losses. I'm trying to elicit from him his medical history, but I only have bits and pieces. He was severely injured at a young age and feels like it's happening to him all over again. But, he seems to be bonding with his mother, father and baby sister. Small steps, but they're important."
"What about professional help?" Stefan questioned. "Is it necessary for him?"
Dr Hill nodded. "At some point, I'm sure it would be beneficial. But for now, he's healing and making small attempts to reach out to his parents. He might respond to counseling better if he's stabilized physically and emotionally. He really needs to feel safe. That's what you and your wife can offer him now - stability. And, it would be a mistake not to keep him occupied. He'll gravitate toward trouble if he's bored."
~*~*~*~
Frankie murmured under his breath and cackled every once in awhile. His fingers rapidly moved over his keyboard, and he shook his head as he whistled. Idiot. Oh, you're mine now, Nikolas Cassadine. I own you. Frankie clicked on the New Message button on his email and typed, "Private" into the subject heading. He typed his message and giggled when he sent it to Nikolas. His head whipped up in surprise when he detected motion in his peripheral vision, and he quickly shut the laptop to hide his deed from view.
"Hello, Frankie."
Frankie swallowed a rising lump in his throat at the presence of the aristocratic, imposing man. "Uh, Mr. Cassadine," he said in a small voice.
Stefan pulled up a chair and sat beside Frankie. He crossed his leg and Frankie felt Stefan's intelligent green eyes seemingly boring into his soul. "I thought it was time that we visited. You invariably were asleep when I stopped by your room at the hospital." Stefan ran his eyes over Frankie and smiled. "So now you're awake and wearing that infernal sweatsuit that my wife purchased."
"Ahahaha." Frankie's bright blue eyes blinked in surprise at Stefan's dry sense of humor. "Dat's funny. Thanks for da sweatsuit. I like it. It's purple."
Stefan's eyes crinkled in amusement, and he stroked his goatee reflectively. "You're welcome. How do you like your room at Wyndemere?"
"It's good," Frankie said quickly. "I like it better dan dat ICU. No stupid nurses bugging me."
Stefan raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat. "That leads me to one topic we need to discuss - your treatment of women."
Frankie frowned, caught off guard by Stefan's comment. "What do you mean?" he asked warily.
"Part of the reason you're at Wyndemere and not in the hospital where you might receive superior care is your attitude towards the nurses who cared for you. There were complaints."
Frankie screwed up his faces. "I don't hafta listen to no bitches," he announced.
"And that's precisely your problem," Stefan noted calmly. "Those women are highly trained professionals deserving of your respect. They are not to be called names or casually disregarded."
Frankie's face set in disagreement, but he merely stared at Stefan as the color rose in his cheeks. He shrugged. "So what?" he challenged.
"So, I am the CEO of a major hospital and responsible for the working conditions of my staff - that's what," Stefan replied firmly. His green eyes were steely, and Frankie shifted uneasily when he looked at him. "A young man as educated as yourself will understand what I am going tell you next. If you were allowed or encouraged to treat women with disrespect in your previous home, remember that you are no longer in New Jersey. This is my home. In my home, women are treated with the utmost courtesy. So, Frankie, when in Rome..."
"Do as the Romans do," Frankie finished the sentence with a stunned look on his pale face.
"Exactly," Stefan nodded.
Frankie continued to examine Stefan's posture and features as he recalled the iron will of a man who had reshaped an empire to his own design. He cleared his throat. "I'll try," he conceded. "But I can't help it if I forget and call one a bitch."
"Try very hard," Stefan replied dryly, his gaze never faltering.
Frankie's eyes shifted, and he said, "Okay."
Silence filled the room, and Frankie felt desperate to fill it, but couldn't think of anything to say. Stefan rescued him. "Now about your businesses," he began.
Frankie's attention was on 110 percent as he waited for Stefan to continue.
"Would you like my assistance in freeing yourself from the illegalities?" Stefan offered.
Frankie's face flooded with gratitude. "Yes, yes," he said hurriedly. "You're da master. Frank and I, we studied you. You're even smarter dan Frank."
Stefan laughed lightly. "I will take that as high praise, then, young man. Let's meet tomorrow evening in my study. Have your questions ready as we'll only have one hour to speak."
Frankie nodded in wonderment.
Stefan rose and walked toward the doorway to the room. He paused at the door and turned. "Tell your mother you have my permission to claim any sweatsuit that she's ever purchased for me." He winked at Frankie and left the room.
Frankie sat on top of his bed with an awestruck look on his face, and he pulled repeatedly on his lower lip as he contemplated how he could take advantage of Stefan's offer of assistance. "Wow," he said out loud.
~*~*~*~
Agent Richards was stationed in his car, tapping his fingers impatiently on his steering wheel and glancing at the clock on the dash as he smoked cigarette after cigarette and enveloped himself in a toxic cloud.
The passenger door rapidly opened, and Agent Samuels slid into the seat, waving his hand and coughing. "How do you do that?" he complained.
"What?" Agent Richards asked lightly. He stared at his lit cigarette and laughed. "It's an art," he gritted out with his raspy voice. His watery blue eyes regarded the man beside him with disdain. "I'm not impressed with the progress of the Frank Smith Junior project. The kid is missing from the hospital. He disappeared on Sunday afternoon. Likely, he's holed up somewhere in that gothic monstrosity that Cassadine owns." Agent Richards extinguished his cigarette into the overflowing ash tray sticking out of the dash. He coughed for a long time, and it sounded like his lungs would burst from his chest in a bloody heap and fall soggily into his lap. Agent Samuels watched him with a sick look on his face.
"You should have paid off the judge," Agent Richards snapped in an accusing voice. "It's our only chance of getting our hands on the kid in a semi-legal fashion. Now we'll have to take matters into our own hands."
"But..." Agent Samuels protested.
Agent Richards slammed his hand onto the steering wheel. "You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to take the case," he yelled angrily. His nicotine stained finger pointed in the other man's direction. "You were so hot to climb the ladder that you overlooked policy and procedure. This is no legal maneuver. You know that. It's an unofficial case, under the table. The bureau will disavow any knowledge of our operations should we be caught. And that I do not intend to happen."
"Okay," Agent Samuels said in a tense voice. His nerves were becoming jitterier by the moment, and the creepy man beside him didn't help matters. "What do we do now?"
"It's too late to pay off the judge. Cassadine has already seen to that. We investigate the security on the Wyndemere estate, find the loopholes and then we strike."
~*~*~*~
Frankie had his CD player cranked up high, and he was jamming to his Bon Jovi greatest hits CD, bopping on his bed as he concentrated on his computer. He looked up abruptly and made a face at the entrance of his brother into his room. He leaned over and turned down the music. "About time you got here," he complained as he looked Nikolas up and down with distaste. "I take it you received my email?" Frankie smirked as his eyes danced in anticipation of another juicy fight. He folded his hands and twirled his thumbs as he watched Nikolas.
"You're about as tacky as your music choices," Nikolas observed coolly. He held his nose with pinching fingers. "I smell a rotten breeze from down south - somewhere near Atlantic City."
Frankie's face turned red at Nikolas' insult. "You don't know nothin' about what's cool," he haughtily informed his older brother. "You're tone deaf - oh, and dumb as well." He glared at Nikolas with his eyebrows knit together in a scowl.
"What do you want, pipsqueak?" Nikolas asked breezily as he crossed his muscular arms. "I'm a busy man. I don't have time for deciphering cryptic emails. Now what is it that you think is so important for me to know?"
Frankie laughed malevolently. "Oh, I agree. You've been a busy man. I know what you've been doing - or rather whom you've been doing." Frankie giggled at his own wittiness. When Nikolas remained silent, Frankie pointed a finger at him and wagged it. "You like dose Greek goddesses, dontcha. Aphrodite or....Athena!" Frankie laughed triumphantly at seeing Nikolas turn pale and blink rapidly as he tried to process Frankie's comment.
Nikolas made a puffing noise as he glanced behind him and walked back to the doorway with a heavy stride. He closed the door and returned to his brother with his hands held on his hips. "What are you talking about?" he gritted out as fear began to curl around his insides.
Frankie's nostrils flared in anger and he yelled, "You're fuckin' your cousin, you weird Cassadine! You're as warped as dose Egyptians with your bad bloodlines. Now you're gonna pay. I got you, bastard. You do what I say or I go to Stefan. Dat's your choice."
Nikolas advanced toward Frankie. "You wouldn't dare," he said in a low, dangerous tone.
"I got a meeting with Stefan tomorrow night. Guess what I'll bring up first?" Frankie challenged. He knew he had Nikolas in a bind, and he had no intention of letting him go. "Cat got your tongue?" he asked impudently.
"You're jealous," Nikolas declared.
Frankie looked incredulous. "Me? I think not. I got as many babes as I pleased and den some. Maybe I'll go try Athena on for size. How good is she? Whatever does dat girl do in da dark? At least she's not my cousin. Weirdo."
Nikolas reared back and let his hand fly, connecting with a solid smack to the side of Frankie's face. Frankie's head flew to the left, knocking off his oxygen apparatus, and his eyes automatically filled with tears from the violence of Nikolas' blow. Frankie rapidly hopped off the edge of his bed and stood straight on his one good leg as he felt the Frank in him rise up into a rage. "You touch me again, and I'll kill you. Dat's a promise," he stated in an evil voice that caused Nikolas' hair to rise on the back of his neck. Frankie's eyes darkened and glinted with malevolence. He coughed several times, bending over with the assault of his sudden perceived lack of oxygen. "I own you," he declared in a choking voice as he straightened back up. "You do what I say, and da first thing I want is some liquor. You go find some good stuff in dose Cassadine stores. And if you find some cold beer, dat's better. I might go easier on you if you do. Don't get caught. Dat's an order."
Nikolas stood with his mouth open in shock, looking down at the reddening palm of his hand and having a hard time believing that he'd hit his brother so hard. He was barely able to accept that Frankie indeed had him backed into a corner. He could deny Frankie's accusation about Athena, but it would be too easy for Stefan to find the truth. He was sunk, at the mercy of a madman. "What do you want with the liquor?" he asked in a dead tone of voice.
"I wanna drink it!!" Frankie shouted at him with wildly waving arms as if Nikolas were deaf and not able to hear him. He huffed and puffed and turned red as he began to lose his bearings. His leg began to give out on him, and he sank to the floor on one knee, grasping desperately behind him at the sheets on the bed and coughing.
Nikolas moved forward nervously. "I shouldn't have hit you like that. You're sick. I was wrong," he tried to explain. "Do you need some help up?"
"GO!" Frankie screamed at him as he shook his head and trembled with rage and another emotion that he couldn't define.
Nikolas hesitated and then walked for the doorway, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Frankie's knuckles turned white as he tried to use his fingers to drag himself up from the floor and into his bed. When he began coughing harder, he fell back onto the floor and cried futilely as he lay down on his side. His emotions were flying in a thousand directions at once, and he wasn't sure why he was so upset. Something that felt strangely like hurt and shame welled up into his chest until he thought he'd choke. He closed his eyes as he panted for air and scraped at the polished wooden floor with his tense fingertips.
Several minutes later, Dr. Hill entered his room and rushed by his side, placing a careful hand on his back. "Frankie, your brother sent me here. He said you might need me. Can you get up?"
Frankie whirled around with a growl and shoved his hands at the doctor. "GET AWAY!" he yelled loudly as he sat up and backed away from the man with the heels of his feet.
"Hey, it's Jerry, it's okay. What happened here?" He looked closely at Frankie's face and noticed the red mark over his cheekbone that had turned puffy and was starting to bruise. "Did you fall and hit your face on the floor?"
Frankie began to slowly calm down with the measured tones of the doctor's voice, although he continued to pant for air. "No," he answered in a small voice. He sniffed his tears away and wiped at his face with the back of his hand. He began coughing again and continued as he sank back onto the floor and cried soundlessly.
"Can I help you up?" Jerry asked carefully.
"Leave me alone," Frankie mumbled thickly. "Nothing happened."
Jerry wheeled over the chair and said, "You can pull yourself up into the chair. That'll be easier."
Frankie sat up again and regarded the chair with a tear-stained face. "Yeah," he breathed out as he grasped the arms of the chair and pulled himself up with the power of his biceps. Frankie half sprawled, half hugged the chair as he painfully turned himself around and groaned with the exertion.
Jerry squatted in front of the chair and looked into Frankie's eyes. "I can't help you if you won't let me," he said seriously.
"I know," Frankie said softly as he averted his eyes away from Jerry. His chest heaved as he sat in the chair, and he looked longingly toward the bed. "Okay, help me up," he conceded.
Once in the bed, Frankie turned away and faced the wall, dragging a pillow behind his head and curving it around to his chin to act as a shield so no one could see his face.
"I'm going to sit here for awhile," Jerry said. "Talk to me if you need anything." He looked worriedly at Frankie's back as the boy remained silent.
~*~*~*~
"Otto never came back. I can't get ahold of him. He was supposed to call right after da hit." The thickset man sat down at the table and looked the other man in the eyes. "Mr. Donado, what do you want me to do?"
"For one thing, shut up while I'm thinking," Donado growled. "Men are dropping like flies. Smith Junior might be as powerful as his namesake. I think we've underestimated him. He must have been number two after all, not just a figurehead. He's kept the business going even with Frank gone, and the men are scared to defect with the recent killings. He's not stupid."
But he's still a kid," the other man protested.
Donado nodded. "A kid that's taken out each plant of ours one by one. He's systematic, and he's deadly. Otto is dead. The hit didn't go off as planned. We've been too lax. The kid has brains, and we need to use ours. Hold on another hit. Our next move needs to be surgical, not sloppy. In time we'll have our mark." Donado's face tensed with his murderous intent. He raised a glass of red wine in the direction of his companion. "Alla salute! Cin cin! " He drained the glass and sighed with satisfaction.
~*~*~*~
Stefan knocked on Nikolas' door and entered. He regarded his son sitting in the middle of his made up bed with his head hung down and a tense look on his face. "I came here after speaking to Dr. Hill," he began. Nikolas turned toward his father and then looked back down. Stefan sat beside Nikolas on the bed. "He told me that you came to find him and reported that Frankie might need his assistance. What happened between you boys? Is that mark on Frankie's face a result of your actions?"
Nikolas remained silent, and Stefan moved his hand toward his son's chin, directing Nikolas' gaze toward his face. "Brephos," he said in a low tone.
Nikolas moved his face away and shrugged. "We fought and I hit him. It was my fault. I shouldn't have hit him."
Stefan's face set. "No, you shouldn't have crossed that line. For one thing, he's ill and can't properly defend himself. It's not a fair fight."
"I know," Nikolas stated. "I apologized."
"You are never to hit your brother again for any reason. Is that understood?" Nikolas looked into his father's stern green eyes. Stefan didn't know the extenuating circumstances, but perhaps that was for the best. Nikolas had no intention of giving up Athena or the relationship that the two had nurtured over the years. "Yes," he replied emotionlessly.
"You are a very fortunate young man. I have never raised my hand against you," Stefan observed. "Frankie has not been as fortunate. No one in his new family should ever strike him."
"I know," Nikolas answered quickly. "His kidnapper father was mean to him, he's psycho, and I shouldn't touch him. But he provokes me. He yells things at me and makes threats."
"You are almost an adult, Nikolas," Stefan stated firmly. "You must act like one. Responsible adults don't lose their tempers that way. If you become angry, count to ten or leave the room immediately. Then, you'll calm down."
"Yeah," Nikolas replied unconvincingly.
"I can't allow this to pass, Nikolas." Stefan rose from the bed. "I am revoking your driving privileges for a period of two weeks. No Jaguar. You'll take the bus to school."
Nikolas glared straight ahead with fire in his eyes but said nothing. There was no arguing with Stefan when he'd made a decision. He sighed deeply and rested his chin on his knees. Stefan bent over to stroke his hair and kiss him on top of the head. "Sleep well, Brephos. If you need to talk, you know where to reach me."
Nikolas nodded wordlessly and watched his father's back as he headed toward the door. Yeah, right. I'm hosed.
~*~*~*~
Stefan entered the master suite and sighed. He brightened up when he saw Laura at her dressing table brushing her hair. His features softened, and he reflected on how much he loved his wife. Laura was singing a tune under her breath, and she stopped suddenly with a delighted gasp when she felt Stefan's strong arms encircle her shoulders and his lips kiss the side of her throat. She reached up a gentle hand and ran her fingers through his hair. Turning around, Laura lifted her lips to meet Stefan's ready kiss. Finally, Stefan broke from their kiss and smiled at his wife. "I love you," he stated simply and completely. "I love you, too," Laura answered happily. Stefan took Laura's hand and led her to their bed. He reclined on his side, and said, "Come here." Laura nestled beside Stefan, and the two remained silent for moments, drinking in their mutual affection as they cuddled. Laura felt safe with Stefan's strong arm encircling her, and she closed her eyes with contentment.
We've made a successful marriage, Stefan thought. Laura was a refuge for him to come home to, offering a softness and compliance that eased his mind and emotions away from the tricky business deals and negotiations that dominated his days. She was a loving mother to his children and entertaining in her own right with a lively personality and sense of humor. Stefan stroked Laura's long, silky blond hair and pulled her closer as he relished the mellow heat that built between them. I still feel the same way about her as I did almost twenty years ago. She takes my breath away. I can't get enough of her. Stefan moaned and rubbed his leg against Laura's. Laura laughed and said, "You're having a hard time with these six weeks, aren't you?" Stefan groaned and hugged her tighter. "What do you think?" "I think I'm lucky to have a husband as wonderful as you," Laura replied emphatically as she turned to face him. She ran a hand down his cheek and stroked his goatee as she stared into his eyes, memorizing the shades of green with gold flecks and the dark blue rim around the iris. "I'm counting the days as well."
Stefan stroked her hair absentmindedly and began talking about their sons. "I took Nikolas' driving privileges away for two weeks," he said. "He hit his brother on the face tonight."
Concern invaded Laura's features, and she frowned. "They were fighting early this morning. They can't get through a whole day without tearing at each other?"
"I spoke to Frankie earlier this evening. He seemed to listen to my reasoning. We'll see if he acts on it. I meet with him tomorrow to help extricate him from his businesses."
"That's an excellent idea," Laura agreed. "He's in constant danger while he's still involved with the Frank Smith mob. I want him out."
"We'll work on it," Stefan promised. "The boy is only one step away from being arrested. This must stop now."
"We have to establish some order around here," Laura stated. "I want us to have a family meeting to work out some ground rules for acceptable behavior. I don't want this strife around the baby and certainly not for the boys. If we can get them to act civilly then maybe they'll eventually grow to enjoy one another. Maybe that's too ambitious, but I refuse to sit back and not try."
Stefan nodded. "That's a sound idea. You and I should make decisions for rules of the house and then share those with the boys."
"Luke said it was futile, that Frankie won't listen to reason and Nikolas is too impetuous."
"He has good points, but it's foolish to allow this to continue and hope for the best. Decisive action at the right moment is likely to work - at least to a degree," Stefan commented. "Luke and Alexis will have to work out their own rules for their home. It is our responsibility to do that for ours."
~*~*~*~
Luke rubbed shampoo into Alexis' wet hair as the two stood in the shower in her apartment. The warm water from the shower ran rivulets between their two bodies, forming a pleasurable aqueous bond between them. The problem was that Luke couldn't seem to concentrate on his task, and kept being distracted by Alexis' assets. He ran his hands over her body, and she didn't protest. Luke whispered something wicked into her ear, and she laughed loudly, the sound of her laughter echoing throughout the bathroom. She turned to face him, and the couple melted into each other with a kiss that extended from their lips to their toes. "We'd better enjoy this while we can, this little honeymoon of ours," Luke said softly as he gazed into Alexis' eyes.
Alexis frowned. "Who says this has to stop?"
"Not me," Luke laughed in defense. "But we're soon to have two teenaged boys descend upon us."
"That's why we have the private master suite separate from the other bedrooms," Alexis grinned, her deep dimples creasing her face in delight.
"Exactly," Luke replied. "But who will be watching the kids if we never emerge?" Luke ran his hands down Alexis' sides and rested them on her buttocks, squeezing and making her giggle. "We'll be having an afternoon delight while Frankie is rigging the satellite dish to receive more pornographic channels. And of course Sly will only be two steps behind him. They're little devils, those two. I don't trust them for a minute."
Alexis sighed and began rinsing the shampoo from her hair as Luke looked on appreciatively. "Rules. We need rules," she stated.
"You're all Cassadine, but I love ya babe," Luke said. "Your logical mind is exactly what the situation requires."
Alexis smiled seductively as she reached out and ran her hands over Luke's chest. "But let's table that motion until I get some good Luke lovin.'"
"Thought you'd never ask," Luke's voice answered with a silky tone as he maneuvered her backwards until her back lightly hit the shower stall.