Sore. Tired. Spent. Sated. Any of those terms would have been an accurate description of her at the moment. Dara Jensen Corinthos stretched gingerly and rolled onto her side. She drank in the sight of her sleeping husband lying sprawled beside her. Michael lay on his stomach, silk burgundy sheet barely covering one muscled thigh. His nude form contrasted nicely with the deep color of the sheets, and Dara could not resist touching him lightly.
Dara was not surprised that Michael did not stir beneath her touch. He had expended every ounce of energy he possessed the previous evening in an effort to physically remind Dara of the combustible connection between them. Michael had taken her against the large glass window. He had taken her again on the leather couch in the middle of the penthouse living room. He had swept Dara up into his arms, carried her to the bedroom and taken her from behind. Michael had awakened a drowsy Dara in the very early hours just before dawn… and demanded that she ride him to release. With every kiss, with every caress, with each forceful thrust, Michael had demanded a truth from Dara that she didn't even try to deny. She loved him.
The beautiful attorney eased from the bed and headed for the bathroom. When she emerged, she saw that Sonny had awakened. A slow smile began to curve his lips. “I hope you're ready to sign the papers, Michael. We had a deal.”
Sonny just lay there and stared. His normally expressive face held no hint of what his thoughts were at that moment. After a few minutes of charged silence, the mob boss rose from the bed, and nude, crossed the bedroom and picked up the phone. “Stan,” he said softly when his young computer whiz answered, “make the divorce petition disappear… Yeah, now.”
Dara wondered if the phone call was real. Any doubts she had were erased almost immediately afterward. “Give me the papers,” she heard Sonny quietly say.
“Michael-“
Sonny cut off whatever she was about to say. “Dara, you want the divorce. I'm gonna sign the papers. I don't need a fuckin' discussion, okay?” His voice held the first hint of emotion that she'd heard since awakening to her demand. “I'm gonna go take a shower.” Sonny turned away from his wife. “Leave the papers on my dresser. I'll sign them before I leave.”
Dara stared at Sonny's retreating form. She continued to stand there and stare long after her husband had firmly closed the bathroom door behind him.
Soon-to-be ex-husband, a little voice corrected Dara. She had gotten her wish. In a day or so, her marriage to Michael Corinthos, Jr. would be erased as though it had never happened. She refused to examine just why that thought hurt her so deeply.
