"*Maybe* it was John Black's," Stefano growls, "or maybe it was mine. We will never know now."

"*Yours*?" Grace's expression slowly transforms into one of disgust. "*You?* *YOU* slept with that *slut*?"

"Why not?" Stefano shrugs.

Grace glares at him for a moment and then turns away from him, trying to process the implications of this new information. Information he has withheld from her. Quite deliberately.

"So let me get this straight," her expression tightens as she turns back to him. "This could have been your baby or it could have been Black's. So you slept with that whore on the submarine too?"

"Are the details really important, Grace?" Stefano almost dares her to disagree with him.

"Well, since you used only part of this information to persuade me to take part in your little scheme to destroy the Brady's, then yes, I think they *are* important," Grace replies angrily, her voice rising as she speaks. "How *dare* you come storming in here demanding to know what I did to Hope when you don't even have the *nerve* to tell me you *screwed* the bitch!"

"*That* is enough Grace!" Stefano growls.

"Oh, I haven't even *started* yet!" Grace spits back as she snatches up a glass from the open cabinet and splashes a quantity of vodka into it. Without so much as a beat, she swallows a mouthful of the transparent liquid, gasping as the neat alcohol hits the back of her throat, full force. "You think I give the first *fuck* if that brat was yours?"

"The point was not whether you care or not," Stefano replies with equal venom. "I lost Peter and Kristen because of the Brady's. And now through your actions, a child is dead. A child that might have been my son or daughter. You think I care how *you* feel about it Grace?" He's still for a moment as she glares back at him. Then he speaks again, his voice carefully controlled this time. "It seems to me that you *do* care however..." he takes a step toward her, "otherwise you wouldn't be quite so... distressed...."

He reaches out and lays a hand on her arm in a gesture of reconciliation but she yanks her arm away, malice in her glare.

"Don't touch me you *bastard*," she hisses. "Keep your filthy hands off me!"

"Grace..." Stefano's anger is still close to the surface, but he knows that Grace is a loose cannon in this state. "You need not be jealous of Gina or Hope. Or anyone."

"Jealous?" A high pitch laugh dies, strangled in her throat. "You think I'd be jealous of *that*?"

"Well then..." Stefano's ebony eyes drill into her. "If that is indeed the case, then there is no problem."

"That's where you're *wrong*," Grace refuses to be subdued. "You manipulated me," she narrows her eyes. "You deliberately told me only half the story in order to get your own way." She pauses briefly to consider her words. "I thought we were partners. You should have told me."

"Why?" Stefano shrugs. "What difference would it have made? John still slept with Hope, whether he fathered the child or not."

"God, you're a *bastard*," Grace finishes her drink and slams the glass down on the counter. "Sometimes I wonder why I bother to listen to you at all."

"Grace..." Stefano says firmly. "It is not important. I did what I had to do. You must not let this affect our relationship."

"How can it *not* affect our relationship?" she demands furiously, her voice rising again until she is almost screaming at him. "You let me rot in a marriage to that *bastard* Lamont and not just him, but John Black as well. And instead of doing what you could to get me back, you were off on a fucking *submarine*, fucking *her*."

"I do not have to justify myself to you or anyone, Grace." Stefano bellows, her refusal to listen to him making him almost as angry as the reason that brought him here.

"*Fine*!" She screams at him, "then get *out* of my house!"

"I am not going *anywhere*!" His fingers seize her arm as she pushes past him and he roughly yanks her back to face him.

"I *said*, don't *touch* me!" Grace's immediate impression is that he is trying to dominate her and it only feeds her fury. In a split-second, instinctual reaction, she pulls back her hand and slaps him violently on the cheek, venting all her rage in one blow.

Hardly missing a beat, Stefano lets go of her left arm and catches her free wrist in a vicelike grip and pulls her to him. His right arm slides around her waist and he kisses her firmly. Grace struggles briefly and then gives in. As irate as she is, she suddenly finds herself very aroused and she closes her eyes as she feels his hand release her wrist and skim the golden skin of her arm.

No! The voice that sounds in her head is foreign but she is overcome by a sudden revulsion and she struggles to escape from Stefano's grasp. She feels claustrophobic and all she wants to do is get out of his clutches.

"Grace?" Stefano sees the shock on her face and he lets her go, almost despite himself. He had not intended to kiss her like that, but she had been so vibrantly beautiful in her rage and it had been the only way he could think of to get her to shut up for more than two seconds.

Grace takes a step back and stares at him as she tries to gain her equilibrium. She has never felt like that around Stefano before and it has thrown her completely off-balance.

"I don't want to talk about this any more." She tears her eyes away from his and she quickly turns and makes her way to the stairs before he can see past the mask of indifference. "You can show yourself out."

"Grace." Stefano's voice is compelling and she finds herself turning back to look at him as she stands on the first stair. "Do not make this more than it has to be."

"Didn't I just say I didn't want to discuss it?" she asks pointedly. She is tiring of his blustering and his demands. "I will make of it whatever I damn well please Stefano. *You* are in no position to tell me what to think."

"Grace, I just want-"

"Stefano, I have plans," she says sharply. "Please leave. I will call you tomorrow if that's what it takes to convince you to go."

Stefano looks at her with suspicion. "Plans?"

Grace sighs and looks down at him from over the banister. "You have to trust me Stefano," she says facetiously. "After all, isn't that what you are asking *me* to do?" She reaches the top of the staircase and she stops in thought. "Unless of course there's some other deep, dark, *dirty* secrets that you've neglected to tell me that you feel might impact on my ability to do the task you have set me."

"Of course not," Stefano says darkly.

"Good," she nods. "Then I will talk to you tomorrow.

~

John shifts his weight uneasily from foot to foot as he ascends to the penthouse apartment in the elevator. Checking his cufflinks with nervous fingers, he looks around the confined space. He's trying not to focus on what is going to happen tonight, he's only grateful that she has agreed to have dinner with him. Anything else at this point will be a bonus.

Finally the elevator slows, the doors slide open and he exits into the corridor outside Marlena's front door. He steps up to the door and pauses to run his fingers across the familiar numbers. All he can think for a moment is how much he hates being away from this place, being away from her.

And suddenly the thought hits him that if he fails tonight, if he makes a hash of things again... he could well lose her. Forever. He can't even conceive of a life without Marlena and just the prospect is enough to make him break into a cold sweat. After everything they have gone through to be together, it seems inconceivable that their marriage could fall apart like this. But the fact is that it has. And if he doesn't do something about it now, then every day she grows further away from him and very soon he may not be able to reach her at all.

"Dear God," he says softly. "If you never hear another one of my prayers, please hear this one. *Please* help me to remind Marlena of what we have together and why we need one another. It might be selfish, but I need her in my life more that I can put into words. I can't do this without her..."

He takes a deep breath and bowing his head, he closes his eyes. A moment later, he lifts his head and opening his eyes again, he knocks firmly on the door.

He waits for a moment and when there is no answer, he lifts his hand to knock again. But he doesn't have to as the door opens and Marlena stands in the doorway. He blinks and opens his mouth to say something, but he can't for a long moment.

She looks absolutely stunning in a golden gown that is split up to her thigh and as she turns to usher him into the apartment, he can see that the back of the dress is cut down to almost her hips, the halter-neck the only piece of the fabric that seems to be holding the dress to her. She looks so tantalizingly available and yet so forbidden at the same time.

"Marlena..." he shakes his head. "You look.... God, you're so beautiful."

Grace smiles mysteriously and then picks up her purse from the dresser. "I changed my mind," she says without preamble. "I do want to go out for dinner after all."

"You do?" John raises his eyebrows, almost disappointed by her request. He had thought that the privacy of the penthouse would be better for talking, but if she wants to go out, then there will hopefully be plenty of time for that later.

"You don't mind, do you?" she looks a little uncertain and John grins.

"Mind? Doc, you know I'd crawl across broken glass for you."

"Well, that's a little extreme," she laughs, "I'm just suggesting Tuscany."

"Anything you want sweetheart," John picks up the golden wrap that is on the dresser and slides it around her shoulders, taking the opportunity to brush his hand across her golden skin.

The feeling of his touch makes Grace shiver and she pulls away from him, feeling strangely breathless and uncomfortable. "Well, that's what I want." She tries to sound nonchalant, but her voice is tight and choked.

"Let's go then." John is fully aware of the effect he just had on her, but after the last few weeks, he's not taking anything for granted. He's going to be ultra-careful and he's only going to go as fast as she is happy with. The last thing he wants to do is force himself on her and make her angry again.

"Marlena!" Maggie looks surprised as John and Grace walk into Tuscany. Firstly that Marlena is here with John and secondly, that she is here at all given what happened with Hope last night.

"Maggie," Grace says easily, "Do you have a table for two. Somewhere... *private*..." she adds suggestively as she links her hand with John's. John takes the opportunity that is proffered and wraps his fingers around hers, squeezing them gently as they follow Maggie to a table at the back of the restaurant.

"I'll send a waiter right over," Maggie smiles. "It's good to see you two together."

"Thank you," Grace says nothing else, but waits as John pulls out her chair.

When they are seated and Maggie is gone, Grace looks at John. "Honey, I need to go to the powder room. Why don't you order for both of us?"

"Are you sure?" John asks uncertainly.

"Baby," Grace leans across the table and John gets an eyeful of her cleavage. And then he feels her tongue caressing his bottom lips and he almost stops breathing. "Don't you always know what I like?" she asks with a smirk before she stands up.

"Uh...." John can only nod as his heart pounds in his ears.

Grace moves to where he sits and places her hand on his shoulder and then with practiced ease, she turns around so that her arm is curled around his neck. Then she leans close to his head and whispers in his ear. He can feel her breath, moist and intimate against his skin, but it is nothing compared to the effect her words have on him. "I have one request. Make it very *hot*..."

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