Wyndemere, March 2003
"Will there be anything else, Mr. Cassadine?"
Stefan wearily rubbed his temples. He really ought to see his personal physician about these headaches. But he had a feeling the only advice he would get would be to reduce the stress in his life.
"Mr. Cassadine?"
The only way he could think of to reduce stress would be to shove Zander Smith off the parapet and be done with him. Stefan briefly savored the thought, then scolded himself for his lack of mental discipline, all the while wincing at the sharp stabbing pain that inevitably accompanied thoughts of his son.
"Mr. Cassadine!"
Stefan jumped, then scowled at Mrs. Lansbury. "Yes? What is it?"
"I said," she repeated primly. "Will there be anything else, Sir?"
"No, no, you are dismissed." Stefan waved her off with his hand, then hesitated. "Mrs. Lansbury."
"Yes, Sir?"
"Where are the young men right now?"
Mrs. Lansbury twisted her hands nervously. "They're in the billiard room again. Sir."
"Oh, God." Stefan dropped his head in his hands. "That will be all, Mrs. Lansbury."
"Yes, Sir." She hurried out of the study, taking care to close the heavy door quietly behind her.
Stefan groaned. He should go to the billiard room, but he knew all too well what he would find: The two cousins prowling around the table, gripping their cues like swords, the air thick with testosterone and barely-suppressed rage. Nikolas was a good player, but Zander was better and took particular delight in humiliating his rival whenever possible. More than once, Stefan had to step in and separate the two when they nearly came to blows.
Gia was no help. She seemed to enjoy, even encourage, the rivalry between the two men. When Stefan reprimanded her, she merely smiled. "Nikolas has been a pampered only child his whole life," she replied. "It's good for him to have to fight for something." Her last sentence was delivered while peering at Stefan through her luxurious eyelashes. She fluttered them for effect. "Don't you agree?"
Stefan felt another twinge, but not in his temples this time, and firmly shoved the thought of Gia away, dragging his mind back to the problem at hand: Alexander Stefanovich Cassadine, or as he still insisted on being called, Zander Smith.
Despite the chaos and insanity that bedeviled the Cassadine family, their daily lives ran on a bedrock of order, discipline, and tradition that had stood for centuries. Meals were prepared, served, and eaten on time. Certain times of the day were set aside for work, other for study and reflection. Protocol, etiquette, and courtesy were adhered to at all times, within the strict caste system handed down from feudal times. Everyone knew their place. Everyone did what was expected of them. No one complained.
And why? Stefan raged to himself. Because it worked. Structure and discipline allowed the family to respond as a coherent unit in times of chaos and danger like those they faced now. The Cassadines had survived for centuries due to--
Oh, give it up, he told himself. Zander Smith would never fit into the Cassadine family, in this or any century.
Sure, the first week after Stefan's outburst had been promising. Zander barely spoke, obediently studied the coursework Stefan laid out for him, and showed up on time for meals. Of course, it helped that Stefan had an armed guard escort Zander to his room every night and lock him in, then let him out in the morning -- a practice he was forced to abandon once Alexis found out about it. Stefan had also moved Zander into the east wing, mainly because the windows led to nothing but a sheer drop to the rocks below, and removed the heavy drapery in case he had any ideas about fashioning them into a rope. Alexis pitched a fit about that, too, and insisted he be moved.
"Zander is a member of this family," she scolded, bouncing an agitated Kristina. "Not a prisoner."
"What's the difference?" Gia asked sourly.
The truth is, they were all suffering. For weeks, the island had been socked in by the alternating wind, rain, snow, sleet, and fog of March, and the entire family had a bad case of cabin fever. Or, as Gia called it, "mansion fever."
Again, Stefan shoved aside thoughts of Gia, and turned his attention back to the problem at hand. It all came down to the fact that Zander was so different from Nikolas.
Nikolas had been so…biddable, Stefan thought. So bright, so disciplined, so eager to please. (What choice did he have? Stefan asked himself, then quashed that thought and the trace of guilt that accompanied it.) Nikolas understood and accepted his duty, his destiny, as the Cassadine heir, and Stefan understood his own duty and destiny as regent. Any wistful thoughts of having his own child were an indulgence and a waste of time.
Now he found those unspoken wishes had come true, but not like he imagined. How could this...this...Stefan spoke eight languages, but sometimes they all failed him. He ran through and rejected several alternatives before finally settling for English. This nothing. How could this nothing be his son?
First of all, Zanders lack of interest in education was appalling. He scorned history, in particular the glorious history of his Cassadine ancestors. He was a quick study in mathematics, but his sole opinion of economic theory could be summed up in the phrase, "Money talks, bull**** walks." His only delight in learning Greek and Russian seemed to be in acquiring new curse words. In desperation, Stefan had finally called Cameron and asked him how to motivate the boy. Cameron laughed so hard and so long that Stefan finally hung up the phone in disgust.
The only topic that seemed to interest him was literature. He spent long hours in the library, devouring books. If he wasn't there, he could be found in the stables. Nikolas had forbidden him to ride his horses, but Zander had struck up a friendship with the head groom, who let him brush and tend to them whenever he pleased. The only time Zander ever laughed or smiled was around Alexis and Kristina, or Gia.
Gia. Even when she wasn't in the room, she was a distraction. Her perfume lingered in the air and her laughter, even now, could be heard in the halls.
That did it. Stefan rose from his desk, straightened his tie, and prepared to announce his decision to the family.
***
Later that day, everything was settled. Nikolas and Gia would leave immediately for Paris, where Nikolas would inspect the Cassadine holdings there. Stefan had made several discreet phone calls and arranged a major fashion shoot for Gia at the French offices of Vogue.
For the next few hours, the house bustled with activity, but Gia still managed to corner Stefan in a back hallway.
"Trying to get rid of me, Stefan?" she asked archly.
"I thought you'd be pleased at the opportunity," Stefan replied stiffly. "April in Paris is legendary for its beauty." He tried to walk past her, but she stepped in his way.
"A pretty bauble you dangle in my face to distract me?" She smiled and touched his lips with her fingertip. "You're only prolonging the inevitable, you know."
Stefan froze at her touch. He felt his heart jump, then hurl itself against his ribs. Surely everyone would hear it pounding. Surely everyone would know.
"Well?" Gia purred, parting his lips with her fingertip. "Cat got your tongue?" She pouted when he broke contact and stepped away.
"I was under the impression you loved Nikolas."
"I do."
"And were looking forward to being a princess."
Gia tossed back her mane of braids. "Are you kidding? I was born to be a princess."
Her magnificence stole Stefan's breath away. "Yes," he whispered. "I believe you were." He cleared his throat. "But would really throw that all away for me?"
Gia stared at him, then threw back her head and laughed heartily. A touch of the street slipped into her voice. "Do you think this Brooklyn girl is stupid, Stefan?" She stepped closer again, stalking him. "No, I'll make an excellent princess. I'll be a devoted wife to Nikolas and mother to his children. I'll bear his son and we'll carry on the Cassadine legacy together." She smiled and gently touched his lips again. "Nikolas is getting everything he wants. Why shouldn't you get what you want, as well?"
"And you, Gia?" Stefan asked, his voice husky. "What do you want?"
"I want it all," she whispered, and kissed him. Her lips were incredibly soft and sensuous, but strong with passion, and the scent of her perfume curled around Stefan and pulled him closer. Before he knew what he was doing, one arm snaked around her waist, dragging her to him, center to center. The other hand tangled in her mass of hair as he kissed her. As he parted her lips with his tongue and tasted her sweetness, Gia growled in delight and molded her body to his.
Finally, they broke apart, but only by inches. Now it was Stefan's turn to trace her lips with his finger.
"We'll have to be careful."
She bit his finger playfully, then smiled as she replied. "No kidding. Your track record with birth control isn't the best."
"I meant," Stefan said in annoyance. "We'll have to careful about Nikolas."
"I know what you meant," Gia smiled. "And now if you'll excuse me, I have to pack for Paris." She tossed her hair again and walked away down the hall. As she reached the stairs to her bedroom, she turned. "Oh, and Stefan? Good luck with Zander. You'll need it."
An hour later, she left with Nikolas. Alexis and Kristina accompanied them to the mainland for Kristina's medical checkup, while Mrs. Lansbury took the opportunity to do some shopping, as Zander had burned through her meager supply of coffee in two days. The rest of the servants discreetly disappeared, and for the very first time ever, Stefan Cassadine found himself alone with his son.
To be continued….
