John sinks to the bed, his breathing ragged. Marlena... she'd lied to him. She'd been playing around with Wesley all along. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the pain that is building behind his eyes. It takes him a moment to remember that the woman he is thinking of as Marlena, is no longer his wife, but a stranger. Somehow, that doesn't make him feel too much better.
He knows what this woman is like, she's voracious and she is into power games. It really shouldn't surprise him that she's had another man in her bed, but still the mere thought is enough to make him shake with anger and fear. If she's had Craig in her bed, then who is to say there haven't been others. And how many others?
"Oh God!" John squeezes his eyes closed and rocks forward. The revelations and the stresses of the day are starting to take their toll and when a vision of Marlena talking to Stefano flicks onto his closed eyelids, he suddenly finds himself running for the bathroom.
Leaning over the toilet, he empties the meagre contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl, coughing as he retches. When he is done, he turns to look at himself in the mirror.
He looks like hell. His eyes are bloodshot and he hasn't shaved since yesterday. His skin is pale and his wrists are still raw. If *she* could see him now, he doesn't doubt she would be very pleased with her handiwork.
~
"My dear," Stefano hands Grace her obligatory martini with a conciliatory smile. Grace takes it but she doesn't bother to hide the distrust in her eyes. Stefano ignores it for the time being however and he lifts up his own glass. "To Paris," he toasts with a broad grin.
"Paris." Grace touches the edge of her crystal glass against his with a small smile. She takes a mouthful of the concoction and lets the alcohol flood her tastebuds before she swallows it.
"Grace," Stefano puts down his glass and takes her hand in his. "Can we not call a truce? Can we not put this business with Gina behind us?"
"I don't know," Grace shrugs, "can we?"
"Is it really so unforgivable?" Stefano asks easily. "You have had your revenge with John, can we not now go back to where we were?"
"Do you really think it's that easy?" Grace raises her eyebrows. "Stefano, how can we go back to where we were when I no longer respect you?"
"Because I slept with Gina?" Stefano demands tightly.
"Because you took advantage of your power over her." Grace pulls her hand from his and takes a mouthful of her martini. "I really thought you a better man than that." She looks at him from under lush dark lashes." After all, there were all those opportunities when you had *Marlena* at your mercy.... and yet you didn't sleep with *her*. So why Hope?"
"Because Gina was willing," Stefano doesn't miss a beat. "She came to me of her own accord Grace. And Marlena never did. I would never take a woman without her consent."
"*Hope* didn't give her consent," Grace narrows her eyes. "Your logic is flawed Stefano."
"I apologize if my actions offend you Grace," Stefano's eyes burn blackly, "but by your *own* logic, if *you* were to come to me at any time, I *must* refuse you. Is that really how you feel?"
"The circumstances are different," Grace sets her drink on the table and crosses her arms. "You implanted Gina in Hope. You controlled her. You don't control me." She sees the truth in his eyes as she speaks and her lips twitch into an embryonic smile. "I am who I am Stefano, I'm not one of your creations and I will *not* be dictated to."
Stefano pauses, taking a mouthful of the fine old brandy and ruminating on her words. Eventually, his expression slips into an easy smile "You certainly are who you are. Grace," Stefano laughs heartily, but there is very little actual mirth in the sound. "You keep me on my toes every day, my dear." He makes a show of bowing to her. "I concede the point. You are right, my actions were deplorable. You, and Hope Brady, have my deepest apologies." He is smiling and Grace knows him well enough to know his words are somewhat sincere and it goes a little way toward appeasing her anger at him. "So tell me Grace, how is it that I might make amends?"
"Hmmmm...." she lets herself relax a little and she smiles at him playfully as she flutters her thick lashes. "Let me think about that for a while. I'm sure I'll be able to come up with something."
~
John looks up at the sound of banging on his door and he groans. Who the hell could this be now? He thinks about ignoring it, but the banging continues and it is starting to intrude on the headache that is buried behind his eyes.
"All right, all *right*," he mutters as he makes his way to the door. Swinging it open he sees Nancy Wesley standing in front of him and he groans audibly.
"What do you want?" he asks rudely as Nancy pushes past him and storms into the room.
"I've come to tell you that you had better keep your wife away from my husband or there's going to be *hell* to pay." Nancy glares at him.
"Don't you think you should be directing this at my wife?" John asks bluntly. "I mean, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm no longer living with her."
"Your wife has been screwing my husband," Nancy hisses completely ignoring John's words, "and now she's trying to screw him out of a job." Her lips thin as she stares him down. "And I won't have it. I'm telling you to tell her to back off."
"Listen lady, I couldn't give a fuck about your husband or his job. In fact," John snarls furiously, "if your husband doesn’t stay the fuck away from my *wife* he's going to spend the next six months eating through a straw. Do we understand each other?"
Nancy blinks several times and then stands up a little straighter. "Are you threatening Craig?"
John looks at her for a moment and then laughs bitterly, the sound taut and harsh. "You catch on fast." He turns away, trying to resist the overpowering urge to put his fist through something.
"Well, I..." Nancy stares at him, flustered by his rudeness.
"I'd get out of her while the going is good," he advises barely able to keep control of himself.
"Your wife is trying to ruin Craig's career," Nancy says finally. "I won't let her do that."
"Look, lady," John whirls around to face Nancy, his hands balled into tight fists. "I told you, *get* *out* of my room. NOW!"
The volume of his voice swells and Nancy flinches. It only takes her a moment and then she turns and hurries from the room. John follows her to the door and then slams it after her, the wood shuddering and creaking as it settles into place.
"*DAMN*! John swipes an angry arm over the desk, sending papers and other small objects flying. "*DAMN* you old man!" He leans his fists on the desk and looks up at his reflection in the mirror, once again seeing the reddened eyes and drawn face of a stranger.
That same stranger sizzles inside his head urging him on, feeding on his anger and his pain as he fights for control of his mind. It's as though there are two separate personalities battling for control inside him and he knows that if he loses his focus, the mercenary will cut loose and he will lose himself completely in the murky depths of Stefano DiMera's hellish creation. But if he does, then who will save Marlena?
No, the only choice is to stay focused on his fight to bring Marlena back, to try and reach beyond the stranger that inhabits her body and find the woman he loves. He's beaten the Devil once; surely he can beat Stefano and his twisted creations now.
The face looks back at him and he sees eerie evidence of the eyes of the man that destroyed Marlena's life. "Damn *you*!" he bellows as he lashes out with his fist. The mirror shatters under the force of his blow, fracturing and splitting into long, razor-sharp shards. John pulls his fist back and inspects his bleeding knuckles with an air of detached bemusement before his breath catches suddenly and inexplicably in his chest.
He closes his eyes tightly and grinds his teeth together, every muscle in his jaw tensed and solid. His bloody fingers unfurl and he places his hand flat on the surface of the desk. The breath comes hard and determined as he fights with everything he has. "Will.... not .... let.... you .... win..." he spits out in short determined bursts.
It is touch and go for a moment, but slowly he feels control flood him, his muscles responding both to instinct and command as they tense and flex. His expression is hard and resolute, his eyes an icy arctic blue as he parts his eyelids and turns to the window. It is not yet evening and the sun still shines low across the city. Ignoring his shredded fingers, John turns and stalks over to the phone.
He waits impatiently as the phone rings. His heart beats in his throat at the prospect of what he is about to do. He's not sure if he has any right to do this, any right to expect help from a once loyal source. But he can't see any other choice right now.
Finally a weary voice comes on the other end and greets him.
"Bo," John ventures uncertainly. "I know that I'm probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but I need your help. Can you meet me at the Cheatin' Heart in half an hour?"
~
Grace dabs her mouth with the corner of her napkin and allows Stefano to help her from her chair before she drops the crisp linen square on the dinner plate in front of her.
"Can I interest you in a brandy, my dear?" Stefano walks over to the expensive crystal decanter that sits on the sideboard.
"Hmmm?" Grace doesn't appear to be listening as she moves to the fireplace. There is a chess game set up between the two armchairs there and it is seemingly in play. Picking up one of the ebony pawns, she slides and elegant thumb along the shiny black surface.
"Ahhh," Stefano smiles as he brings her snifter to her. "Recalling the hours I taught you how to play chess, Grace?"
"Recalling the hours that I used to whip your ass, Stefano," she laughs silkily as she takes the glass from him.
"Oh, is that so?" Stefano reaches up and brushes her hair away from her face with a reverent touch. "And I suppose you think you could beat me now?" He lifts his eyebrows, his words loaded with suggestion.
"Darling, I could take you inside four moves." The pawn is still in her hand as she lifts her fingers to straighten his tie with infinitesimal care. "You and I both know that."
"Your self-assurance always was your strong point, Grace." Stefano laughs as he moves away from her and eases himself into the leather armchair. "Very well then. Show me just how very good you are."
"My pleasure."
The corner of Grace's mouth curls into a smile and she looks carefully at the board before placing the pawn back in the empty square that it has come from. With very little change in her expression, she lifts a white bishop from the board and makes a long move along the diagonal to his side of the board. Stefano raises one eyebrow and analyzes the board as she takes a mouthful of the smooth old brandy.
While he is considering his options, she wanders away from the fireplace over to where the laptop is whirring quietly on the desk. She runs her fingers lightly over the touch-pad and watches the task bar as it slowly mounts, the numbers ticking inexorably by on the screen. Her smile broadens slightly and she reaches out, touching her fingertips to the screen as though she can almost feel the money as it filters past.
"All right my dear," Stefano leans back eventually. "Your second move?"
Grace slides out from behind the desk and comes back to stand over the board. Her shrewd glance quickly deduces his move and it is one she has anticipated. She declines his offered pawn piece and instead moves one of her own pawns. Stefano nods and takes her bishop with a lazy grin.
Grace takes a mouthful of her brandy and looks as though she is considering her next move carefully. In reality she already knows exactly what she is going to do. While Stefano is brilliant, he is also slightly predictable and she knows he utilizes his queen maybe more than he should. It is a weakness he has and she doesn't fault him for it. But it allows him to be played and manipulated and Grace has absolutely no compunction in taking advantage of that fact.
Reaching out her-well manicured fingers, she slides a knight between two pawns and replaces Stefano's pawn. The jet marble is cool in her hand as she rolls it around in her fingers, waiting to see if Stefano takes her bait.
Her wait lengthens and she becomes bored again, wandering back to where the computer is doing its thing. The bank account is one of Stefano's many and is located in the Cayman Islands. It is rapidly swelling but eyeing the numbers, Grace hits a couple of keys and ends the transaction.
Making sure that everything is secure and locked down, she punches in the number of another bank account, this time located in Hong Kong. Looking down at one of the several cards beside the small but powerful machine, she punches in the numbers and then hits several buttons with the aid of the touchpad.
The task bar pops up and begins to move slowly, signifying the transfer. Grace pats the machine and then goes back to where Stefano is still scrutinizing the play. She can tell he has misgivings, but the temptation is too great as he moves the queen over to displace the white knight.
With a grin, Grace moves her own queen and swipes Stefano's from the board. Stefano's eyes widen slightly as he realizes his king is trapped between Grace's queen and her pawn.
"Checkmate." She finishes her brandy and sets the snifter on the table next to the defunct game.
"You always were easy, Stefano."