Strange Bedfellows
Thirteen
It
was a truth that she had no trouble admitting privately. Stefan Cassadine was an
elegant man. He stood on the far side of his study dressed in an exquisitely
tailored suit that looked like it had been crafted solely for his toned frame.
Scholarly metalrimmed eyeglasses, which seemed anything but scholarly on him,
rested low upon the bridge of his nose.
Stefan
stretched out a hand to retrieve a sheet of paper from his desk and the light
flashed across the surface of a monogrammed, polished cuff link in his sleeve.
It was at once a reminder of the "old world' manner of the man.
"Good
morning," Dara announced.
Her
cheerful greeting pulled Stefan from his calculations. Of all the possible
demeanors he had thought to encounter in the young attorney that morning,
cheerful anticipation was not one of them. "Good morning." Stefan met
Dara's clear, untroubled gaze. "You are in unexpectedly good spirits
today," he observed truthfully.
Dara
smiled. "What you said yesterday finally hit home."
"What
exactly did I say that had such a dramatic effect on your outlook toward this
endeavor?"
"Oh,
I think that I will let you wonder about that," she teased. "There is
no sense in my supplying you with information that will make things easier for
you to try and manipulate me in the future."
"He
will be here directly." Stefan's tone grew pointed. "As will our other
expected guests."
"Helena."
"Yes.
As I warned you."
"Well,
I am ready." Dara turned away from the window to meet Stefan's gaze. The
shadowed sun bathed her in gentle sunlight that pooled about her like a silken
shroud, and Stefan was struck once more by a quiet beauty that he had overlooked
in his admiration of Dara's considerable intellect.
"Is
there a problem with the outfit that I have chosen for today?" Dara looked
down at the suit she wore. She was not an insecure woman regarding her looks,
but Stefan's silent, intense scrutiny of her was a bit unnerving in light of the
task they sought to accomplish within the next hours.
“Your
choice of attire is without fault,” Stefan reassured her somberly. He glanced again at the cobalt blue Luciano Soprani original
that Dara wore. The suit’s simple
cut was offset by subtle curves that accentuated Dara’s form and wordlessly
teased at the possibility of more. It
was understated but extremely elegant in design.
