Dara slid from the luxurious vehicle before it came to a complete stop; much to the chagrin of the beleaguered chauffeur, who had hastened out of the big limousine in order to open the rear door for his charge.
“Thanks,” she told him tartly, “you can go now. You’ve safely brought me home.”
The man continued to stand beside the idling limousine. It was as if Dara’s words did not even register with him. “Didn’t you hear me…”
“Gaelan,” the driver helpfully supplied. “Master Cassadine requires me to be at your disposal at all times.”
“Fine!” Dara realized that arguing with the stoic driver would not accomplish anything. The only word that seemed to matter was Stefan Cassadine’s.
She strode angrily into the building she called home and punched the elevator button. The car’s slow progression down from the upper floors aggravated the sense of impatience she felt, so Dara abandoned the elevator for the stairs. It was a thing she did often. The results were evident in the curves of her shapely form.
Dara unlocked her condominium door and rushed over to the phone. Or rather, to the empty place where her phone used to be.
She let the keys fall from her lifeless fingers. In shock Dara slowly spun around, taking in the totally empty condominium. No, she shook her head, he didn’t.
An irate Dara ran back down the stairs to the waiting car. “Take me to Wyndemere,” she ground out once the chauffeur settled behind the wheel. “I’m going to kill him!”
