Time: New Years Eve 2002
Place: Montreal

Tony leaned back and tried to unwind in the back of limousine he'd found waiting for him at the hotel. It was taking him out of the city. The commercial flight hadn't been terribly long, just crowded and so he'd been looking forward to some peace and solitude but instead of an empty room, there had been a stranger waiting for him at the hotel with a message.

"From Mr. Donovan," the man said, handing Tony an envelope. "Please excuse me, I'll be back shortly."

Confused and rather irritated, Tony watched him disappear into neighboring room. He glanced down at the message in his hand and ripping it open discovered a key, an address, and a brief, cryptic note from Shane. Your evening is set. Enjoy. M is on his way. At least the last part made sense he thought.

With a grimace, he left it sitting on the desk and poured himself a drink which he took over to the window. The city was lit up below him, spread out until it reached a dark line Tony knew was the river.

He checked his watch. Midnight was only a few hours away and on a whim, thought about calling Anna but then reminded himself about the time difference. She'd still be asleep. Why couldn't he be lying next to her instead of waiting in a hotel room for Shane to appear with Colin Murphy? Hardly Tony's idea of an amusing New Years Eve. He tried to remember the last one he and Anna spent together but couldn't and wondered to himself if he'd ever get a chance in the future to make up for it, or any of the other things he'd never done for her. All the dreams he'd promised her the day of their wedding...

"Sir?"

Turning from the window, Tony's heart jumped a beat as he stared at the figure in front of him. The stranger was gone. In his place stood a man wearing Tony's face and an expensive looking tuxedo.

"I understood from Mr. Donovan that seeing this disguise might be upsetting, so he requested that I hold off on it until you had a chance to meet me first."

Tony's anger surged quickly to a boiling point. What the hell did Shane think he was doing, pulling a stunt like this? It was bad enough that they both suspected Andre might still be alive but even minus that nasty little detail, he had to know how Tony would react to finding himself confronted with that face.

"Is everything okay?" His double stared at him in confusion and seconds ticked by before awareness began to sink in. Slowly Tony loosened his fingers that were clenched tightly around the top of the chair in front of him. He glanced away, but couldn't shake the sight of his cousin's face that leered at him with mocking eyes and he had to take several deep breaths before he managed a thin smile he hoped would be enough in the way of reassurance. "It's a bit...disconcerting."

The man's glance darted about the room until he found the note lying on the desk. "Did you read it?"
Tony nodded.
"Good." The man's shoulders relaxed a bit. "There is a car waiting downstairs and the driver will take you where you need to go."
"And you'll be here." It came out more of a statement than a question but the stranger smiled as if he understood and Tony noticed they'd even copied the slight gap in his teeth. While he could understand Shane's motives in wanting to keep their meeting as secret as possible, this cloak and dagger nonsense riled him. After such a lousy day, he was in no mood to appreciate his partner's sense of humor.
"Where am I going," he asked, without much hope he'd get an answer, "or do you even know?"
"I believe Mr. Donovan meant for it to be a surprise." The statement carried the merest hint of reproach.
"Well, what a shame he's not here so I could thank him personally," Tony replied, not bothering to curb his sarcasm.
"I understand the drive isn't very far," the man said quickly. "And I took the liberty of sending your bag to the car when you first arrived."

Tony swallowed the rest of his drink and retrieved the address along with the key off the desk. "I hope you weren't planning on a wild evening," he said heading to the door. "My day was pretty exhausting so a night on the town wouldn't be too brilliant on your part."

Twenty minutes later in the limousine he still couldn't shake the image of that face, his face watching him depart with a lascivious smile. "I hope you know what you're doing, Donovan," he whispered to the ceiling.

Too many things could go wrong tonight. Murphy's demise, scheduled to take place at any moment now back in Salem was, Tony admitted to himself, a calculated risk. There was no guarantee Colin would feel obliged to accept their terms. In fact, for all Tony knew, it was Stefano who'd ordered Colin to free Welsh for reasons he wasn't about to share, in which case, the good doctor's reliability was suspect. Whose side was he on? After a few months association, Tony was pretty sure Colin's main concern would be his own neck though Shane had been quick to point out that if Tony was wrong, there'd be only one alternative, eliminating him.

But the prospect of shooting Colin didn't bother Tony nearly as much as what he considered their key obstacle. Everyone, notably his father, had to be convinced Colin's fate had been governed by Larry Welsh and no simple ruse would fool Stefano. The idea of staging it at Victor's wedding seemed ideal at first but logistically it'd been a nightmare. He and Shane argued about it for days. If Colin was shot at the wedding, they could make it appear as if Welsh was responsible, but Tony worried about all the other suspects, most of whom would quickly turn and point the finger at him. When Sami had showed up at the mansion earlier that day, Tony had not concealed his displeasure. Telling him that Colin planned on killing Jack and insisting Tony do something to stop it only made the situation more untenable. Even with the alibi he'd have trouble with Roman when he returned.

And John. Tony rolled his eyes at the thought of his brother's intentions. Wouldn't he just love pinning a murder on his newly acquired DiMera sibling. Anything to wipe away the anxiety that must have eaten at him, if only briefly, that he too belonged to Stefano. Quite frankly, Tony found this aspect of the situation a thoroughly pleasing jest. After all, it had been John who used Tony's connections to justify his appalling behavior. Tony was Stefano's flesh and blood, reason enough in John's eyes for showing up the day of Tony and Kristen's wedding to hurl his accusations at Stefano and use them to impugn Tony's character. Not that he could prove any of them but Tony was a DiMera. Nothing else mattered in John's world so the picture of him living through even a tiny slice of the hell he'd invented for Tony was most gratifying.

As he turned to the window, he found the car gliding through an oversized gate and up along a drive lined with immense trees. The moon flickered between the branches as they drove on for another mile or so. And then the house, a sprawling Tudor mansion. Most of it was dark except for a couple of the windows that glowed as well as the entrance where a lantern hung from an iron hook. It certainly looked private and Tony assumed well protected considering the measures Shane had just resorted to back at the hotel.

As they pulled up to the front, he hoped there wasn't anyone waiting for him. All he cared about at the moment was finding a comfortable bed and being left alone. Shane would have to be patient.

After tipping the driver who brought his bag to the door, Tony slipped inside and found himself in a vast hallway. The chandelier overhead emitted a dim glow on the staircase leading up to the floors above and waiting for him at the bottom was Anna.

For the first time in all the years he'd know her, neither of them uttered a word. Shaking his head, he thought of Shane's note and then the face of his double back at the hotel room sporting his presumptions so blatantly.

"I seem to be getting rather careless," he said, watching a self satisfied smile curl the edges of her mouth.
"I doubt that." Her head tilted to one side and she said, "Surprising you is by no means easy."
"God woman, you manage that without even thinking about it, quite often on a daily basis," he laughed, walking over to join her.

His eyes sparkled with merriment as he rested his shoulder against the wall. What an incredibly welcome sight she was. Arriving in the city earlier, he'd been sure that nothing could lift his spirits after such a wretched day, but all his weariness had vanished as though she'd waved a magic wand.

"So, no complaints?" she asked playfully. He could hear the faint challenge in her voice. "I mean, if you'd rather, I could always go wake up Shane."
"My my," he murmured, flashing her a wicked grin. "Angling for a spanking, are we?"
Her eyes widened in mock horror. "That an offer?" she asked hanging on to her dignity for only a few seconds before trying to suppress a giggle. "Or by any chance a guarantee?"
"Oh, Anna." He shook his head in amusement and held out his hand.

She reached up to grab on and with a smooth practiced step backwards; he lifted her off the step and into his arms. "I miss you terribly," he whispered as he buried his face in her hair and breathed in deeply. Dear God, why did he insist on torturing himself by staying away? He couldn't think of a single decent reason, at least not while the warmth of her body pressed against him and he was so tired, of the accusations and pettiness, and most especially of the reputation he clung to merely to fool Stefano. "Tell me why am I playing this stupid game again?"

"I don't know," she said, nestling her head into the curve of his shoulder with a sigh, "maybe you're a masochist?"
Laughter rumbled through his body before he said, "I know plenty of people you might agree with you, except they'd warm me the crazy part was getting involved with you again."
"Oooh, you are a brat," she said, smacking his arm
He smiled indulgently. "Only what I learned from you, my love."
"Did not. You forget that I know all about what bad boys you and Martin used to be thanks to his umm…racy stories."
"Oh?" He'd begun nibbling her ear as one of his hands massaged the back of her neck. "I thought," he said, moving his mouth to the edge of her jaw and kissing her with those lips that left a scorching trail, "you knew better," he reached her neck, "than to trust Martin."

"What, they're lies?" she asked, trying to focus on his words while he deftly lifted the strap of her dress off her shoulder without even a pause. The fluid touch of his lips kindled vibrations that tingled through her skin and in a matter of moments she felt her breath shorten. "I mean surely, he couldn't have made them all up."

Stopping, he wound his arms around her and held her close and she could tell he was considering the possibility. "I suspect exaggerate would be the proper term," he informed her, appreciating to some degree the irony of the situation. "You know how us men can be when we begin bragging about our conquests."

"Oh, you mean you all talk like Alex, how disappointing."
"What can I say," he said with a small smile and a shrug. "I was young, idiotic."
She looked at him dubiously. "Sorry Tony, but it's awfully difficult trying to imagine you hanging out with the guys in a smoke filled dive somewhere, tossing back a few beers."
"Yes, well we never drank beer," he said, his tone growing distracted again.
"Or shared your women?"
"No." He reached to kiss her but it lasted only a second before he froze and opened his eyes. "Where is Martin, by the way?" he asked, with a frown. "Not upstairs."
She shook her head. "He's…well ah…actually we're in Switzerland."
"Switzerland." Tony raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. It's New Years so we're off skiing."
"I see. Another double? Compliments of Shane, no doubt," he said with what sounded almost like a snicker.
"Tony DiMera, you'd better not be complaining."
"No, I wouldn't dream of it" he said, his smile dry though she caught a gleam of laughter in his eyes before it was swept beneath his thick lashes. Leaning over, he whispered, "I swear to express my undying appreciation to Shane but not until tomorrow."

And finally his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her with the intensity she'd craved from the minute she's seen him appear through the door. She could feel his hand tangled in her hair, one playing idly with the zipper of her dress. Vaguely she heard him kick his bag against the wall. His hands and tongue grew more insistent but after a few moments he caught himself and dropping a light kiss on her nose drew back. "You'd better point out the way to the bedroom before we end up on the floor."

Opening her eyes slowly, her mouth quivered in frustration but gently his finger slipped beneath her chin. His lips brushed across hers softly and breathed one word, "please."

She had to take a deep breath before grabbing his hand. "You used to like doing it on the floor," she teased, as they headed up the stairs, "or where ever else we happened to be."
"Well, of course," he laughed, "And I used to be younger too."
"And idiotic?" she said, turning to smile at him.
His eyes glittered. "Be careful," he warned her. "I'm not too old or tired to bend you over my knee."
"Yeah, promises, promises."

It happened so quickly that Anna didn't realize what he meant to do until she found herself hanging over his shoulder with a view of the staircase below her. "What the hell…Tony!" she yelled at him, pounding on his back when a jolt sent her clutching at his shirt to keep her balance.

"Shhh, you're going to wake up Shane, and stop that," he said, tightening his grip on her legs. "I'm trying not to drop you."
"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.
A chuckle floated back over his shoulder, one keen with anticipation. "Oh, just making sure I fulfill all my promises."

Someone yanked him back this time and he winced as nails gouged his shoulder and hauled him towards the bed, away from her. The breath he tried inhaling was trapped in his chest. Icy panic hammered at every nerve in his body and it was crushing him, a suffocating wave that bore down ruthlessly until he lay pinned to the mattress. In desperation he wrenched his head around. He couldn't make anything out as first but then spotted his cousin's back across the room. Behind him Anna struggled, twisting to break his grip on her arm but he slung her body roughly up against the wall and her scream seared through Tony's throbbing head.

"Oh come on…" The voice tugged at him, pleading and then insisting. "Tony, wake up."

Dark spots hovered and then converged slowly into objects, distinguishing a room, shadowy like the one in the dream but otherwise unfamiliar.

And Anna.

Relief flooded her eyes and then vanished quickly beneath a jumble of other emotions that wouldn't register coherently in his mind, wouldn't penetrate the shrouded sickening aura. His eyes burned and pressing a hand to his face, he rubbed at them but there was no escaping the futility of it. How he longed for a way to scour the images from his memory. To obliterate them, especially Anna's stricken look of betrayal that haunted him, just like Renee's so long ago.

He swallowed painfully and leaning over on his elbow, tried to sit up but instantly her hand slipped across his brow, cool, even soothing but firm and too weary to put up any resistance, he slumped back into the pillow, careful to avoid her gaze. He dreaded her questions and mercifully, she didn't force the issue. She simply lay her head beside him and relieved, he pulled her closer, wrapping her tenderly in his arms and pressing his lips to her forehead but within, his mind churned with the turmoil his nightmare had dredged to the surface.

Andre.

With some difficulty, he stifled his initial impulse. Faulting Shane would hardly provide him with any solutions, which was the only point to any of this. And anyway, the nightmares felt different somehow. The dungeon, the chain, Anna, even his cousin, they were all as he remembered but it was as if the pieces had been scrambled and rearranged, perhaps deliberately.

Admittedly he was thankful that at least their frequency had lessened but no matter what he tried, they persisted. Usually at the most inopportune moments. And there was an even more puzzling oddity; he couldn't help but notice that his nightmares were totally devoid of John's presence and that made no sense whatsoever. Why his cousin and not his brother? Under the circumstances it was, he suspected for the best, and perhaps the only reason he'd not lost his temper with the man. The prospects of a daily encounter with John strained the limits of his patience beyond any reasonable level of tolerance. And he had no doubt it would continue, each succeeding argument only worsening the situation. The one earlier that morning certainly qualified.

The thought did cross his mind that maybe he shouldn't have been surprised to find John at the cemetery. Shane mentioned he'd relayed the results of the DNA test to him and Marlena a few days earlier and so Tony had been anticipating a confrontation.

But instead of coming to the mansion, John had gone to Daphne.

Somehow it seemed so out of character for John, or more likely, a side of himself he'd never expose in front of Tony…not willingly anyhow. Neither man had expected an appearance out of the other, so when Tony reached the stone pillars near her grave, he'd paused, hesitant but most definitely curious. And as he lingered, the irony of it all caught him off guard. John, kneeling at their mother's grave, not angry or bitter Tony noted, though he'd come with questions; about her motives, about his father. And that sent Tony's memory reeling back more than twenty years to a hospital room and a day that had irrevocably shattered everything to come.

Even now, the shock resonated along with the dull empty ache he'd felt listening to her words. Stefano was not his father.

If only he'd realized back then what his mother's admission would cost them; her life, and Renee's, Kristen's, even John's had been wreaked. All because she wished for Tony to be free.

And suddenly the thought of her sacrifice being wasted one more time was unbearable, not when the opportunity existed right in front of him to remedy at least this one mistake. He and John shared a connection, a link. Surely it would count for something to a man who'd lived so long with no answers but John made it abundantly clear he had no interest in overtures of peace, only grinding Tony and every other DiMera into dust.

"What a bloody mess," he thought to himself with a sigh, which he instantly regretted as Anna stirred beside him.
"When did you start dreaming again about Andre?"

Despite her seemingly curious demeanor, he sensed her apprehension, and cursed himself. He didn't even want to remember the damn thing himself, much less describe it to her. He shifted his body so he could see her face. "It doesn't matter," he said, running a finger lightly across her shoulder.

She opened her mouth to argue but prepared now, he slipped her body beneath him and his brief kiss left a burning in its wake. "Surely" he said, trying to sound amused, "we can find something better to do than discussing Andre."

"Tony," she whispered. Her eyes peered anxiously into his own, "I'm worried about you."

He smiled, and his eyes, deceptively calm wandered along with his finger as it traced the curve of her cheek and then glided provocatively across her lips. "I'm fine," he murmured, and smoothed away a strand of hair trapped between her eyelashes. "I promise." This time his mouth brushed her lips softly with tranquil ease until she grabbed his shoulder to pull him closer and obligingly, he sank down and allowed her desire to utterly sweep away the last vestiges of his nightmare, leaving simply her tantalizing scent, her tongue swirling against his own so enticingly it left him breathless.

When he finally opened his eyes, he found her watching him. He could tell instantly she'd not been fooled by his performance but she appeared to be resigned. "And you call me a tease," she grumbled at him, and Tony couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to smirk back at her.

"This was your idea, remember? After all, you could be skiing, in…where was it, San Moritz?"
"Oh yeah, sure," she said, laughing in disgust. "You do recall what a lousy skier I am."
"Ah, but those nights in front of the fire, you thoroughly enjoyed those," he reminded her, his long lashes fanning his eyes in the most irresistible way.
Anna sighed. "Yes I did," and then after a second thought, glared up at him reproachfully. "I do believe you're trying to put ideas in my head."
Tony's eyes danced with mischief. "When it comes to a rich man, love, you don't need anyone sticking ideas in your head, you're an expert."
"And you're a snot," she said, as her hand snaked beneath the covers.
"Oh no you don't," he said, locking his gaze on her. "Don't you dare tickle me, woman."
"I don't know." He could see she was biting her lip to keep a grin in check while a solitary fingernail began sliding down the side of his abdomen. "Sounds to me like you need…"
"I need supper, is what I need," he told her, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his lips.
"Supper? Didn't they feed you on the plane?"
His lip curled at the thought. "Airline food." He closed his eyes with a shudder.
"Well, the cook is…"
"Asleep, yes I should hope so, and besides, we don't need him," he said, planting a kiss in the middle of her palm, "or her."
"What's this we business?"
"What," he asked innocently enough, "you don't want to come down and…at least watch?"
"Tony," she said, a familiar whine creeping into her voice, "its cold."
The mischievous gleam reappeared. "That's not a problem," he said sitting up and with one swift movement, yanked the covers from the bed.

"You…" She flew off the pillows so fast, he had to dive to catch her arms and legs and riding the momentum of her body, scooped her into his arms. Her eyes flashed back at him, indignantly but she didn't struggle this time and after chancing a peck on her cheek, he deposited her gently at the closet door.
"Hurry, and you'll stay warmer," he told her, with only the ghost of a smile.

A short time later, her legs curled neatly into a rocking chair, Anna relaxed in relative comfort, considering it wasn't the bed. At least there was champagne and already the side of her body facing the old kitchen hearth had grown toasty enough she didn't need the collar of the robe clutched tightly about her neck. In fact she'd have to discard it soon. When they'd come down, Tony had stirred the embers and built up the fire so high it was probably warming the icy flagstones.

"Sure you wouldn't care for a glass of brandy?" he asked, with a brief glance in her direction.

He'd collected a variety of ingredients and begun heating pots. Across from the stove stood an immense island, long like ones she'd seen in restaurant kitchens, except it was wooden. Piled atop this one was a steak marinating in something he'd concocted, an assortment of vegetables she assumed were the makings of a salad, and his champagne, very nearly empty, again.

"No," she shook her head. She didn't figure he'd dragged her down here purposely to talk but it seemed as good a time as any. Champagne she could drink all night but not brandy.
"You haven't told me much about the twins," she said, staring down at her glass, idly noticing the way the firelight reflected through the stem and beamed shafts of color off the fluted edges. "So, what are they like?"

He didn't reply immediately and when she lifted her head, he seemed miles away. He'd been chopping celery and it was still in his hand, but the knife rested sideways, his fingers wrapped around the handle. On his face he wore an expression that radiated bemused awe. After a moment he sensed her eyes on him and turned so that the glow from the fire accentuated every angled contour along his face. A faint smile crept up and he shook his head at her in amazement. "They're perfect."

She smiled back at him, amused.
"Truly," he said as his own smile slid awry. "They're charmingly honest, handsome, brilliant, most especially when it comes to getting their own way, and," he raised both eyebrows, "hormonal."
The smile on her face quickly dissolved into laughter. "Oh lord, what would you say the chances are this is how Stefano means to ruin you? A couple of randy teenagers," she said, raising her champagne glass. "Shit, they probably belong to John."
"I'm afraid not," he said so softly she barely heard him over the sharp strokes of the knife hitting the table top.
"What?"

He took a few more swipes at the celery, obviously frustrated but then quit, carefully setting down the knife in front of him. "They're not John's children," he said, his voice low but undeniably touchy.
"Oh Tony," she said, bewildered at his sudden change of attitude, "it was a joke."

But he squeezed his eyes shut and his anxiety was painfully evident, if only for a few seconds just as she'd witnessed it earlier in the aftermath of his nightmare, and her heart froze on that single petrifying thought.

Of all the sadistic behavior she knew Stefano capable of, this would constitute a new low, even for him. To send Tony his cousin's children in the guise of saviors, taunting him. The one thing he'd denied Tony from the moment he'd wrung that confession out of him all those years ago, the moment he's learned Tony wasn't his. It was like some awful curse that continued stalking them.

"Anna?"
She could hear what he was thinking. He assumed she was pouting because he'd been short with her and in a perverse way it was a relief, something normal to hang onto. Meeting his eyes, she gulped down some champagne and pasted on a smile as she grit her teeth.
"Look, I apologize, I'm not upset with you," he began, "I…"
"Do they belong to Andre?" she asked, blurting it out before she lost her nerve.
"Andre? No…no darling," he said quickly, chagrin spreading across in his face. "They're not Andre's. Oh God…" He swallowed uncomfortably as the idea took hold for a brief second, but only in passing before his gaze drifted back to her. "I didn't mean to frighten you that way."
He hesitating for just a moment, and then switched off the flame under both pots and pulled a stool over next to her chair and sat down. The warmth in his eyes reassured her to some degree except for that disturbing spark of something lurking in their depths. "They're mine."

At first she didn't react at all. It wasn't what she'd been expecting though from looking at him, she could tell he was serious and when her eyes widened with incredulity, he grinned back.

"Yes," he nodded. "My children."

"Tony, that's…" But the euphoria dissipated before she could even finish expressing it as the rest of the picture suddenly dawned on her. And one glance at his face confirmed it all. That was the reason he'd been upset about her comment, it had nothing whatsoever to do with his dream.

"Well," she sniped, jumping up from the chair, "I guess now we know what the old bastard was up to."

An awkward silence ensued as she emptied the last of the champagne bottle into her glass. Marlena. She couldn't believe she hadn't expected something like this and yet, how? Marlena had always been Stefano's obsession. Why on earth would either of them even suspect a move such as this but of course the rationalization didn't curtail her fury at the injustice of it all, not after everything she'd been forced to give up. The baby she'd lost. All those years without him, and now to end up with Tony's children belonging to the one person who'd gotten everything else too. God, why did it have to be Marlena? It was always Marlena. She felt as though every nerve in her body were being dragged through barbed wire.

Veering about, she leaned an elbow on the table but it still took a moment before she was able to pry her lips apart and manage in an even, if rather icy manner, "I suppose congratulations are in order."

Though his eyes regarded her with sympathy, he didn't even flinch and that only made her angrier.

"Tell me, does our recipient for mother of the year know yet?"
"Anna, don't start..."
"The hell I won't," she broke in, temper flaring at his defense of her, "you don't get to tell me how to feel about this...this," her smile only bared her teeth, "charming little family you're starting with Marlena."
He lifted an eyebrow. "I see. You'd be happier about the whole thing if their mother were Kristen, or Renee, or nearly anyone else."
She frowned at him. "Maybe," but as he continued to stare at her, she turned away. "Okay yes, alright?" and slammed her glass down on the table. "Damn it, why did it have to be her, of all people."

There was silence for a moment and then in a dry tone he said, "It could be worse as you pointed out a few minutes ago my dear. At least they don't belong to you and Andre."

"Oh Tony, that is really despicable."
"Yes well," he said, folding his arms. "I'm not the one who suggested it."
She glared at him. "I wasn't suggesting...oh you'd just love that, wouldn't you?"

Rising from the stool his movements were so deliberate she fully expected him to pick it up and throw it. Instead he walked back to the stove to turn up the heat again and retrieved a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator. Setting it on the table, he shot her a brief searing look before grabbing a towel and proceeding to pull the cork from the bottle. He filled his glass but didn't touch it. When he finally spoke, his emotions were still raw. "I'd love any child you brought into this world," he said, meeting her gaze. "Even one that belonged to him."

Anna winced. She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears and tried to turn away but his hand caught her chin.
"Don't you know," he said, exasperation heightening every word, "the person I'm concerned about here is you."
"Tony, you…you don't understand…"
"How scared you are?" He shook his head and his bleak laughter tore through her. "Oh believe me, I do."
She leaned her head back and the tears came spilling down her cheeks. After a moment when she was able to find her voice again, she said, "That's not very reassuring."

"Oh Anna," he said looking back down at the table. Her head swam with too many conflicting thoughts but he didn't give her a chance to sort any of them out before he reached for the champagne bottle and topped off her glass. "Then marry me."

The expression on his face was rueful but his eyes, gleaming like burnished ebony in the light from the fire, regarded her with an intensity he concealed more often than not these days.

And for some unexplainable reason, this frightened her far more. "What about Stefano?"
"That problem we may never be rid of," he told her gently. "Even if he's in jail." And then the corner of his mouth twitched. "Or dead."
"But last summer…"
"Last summer I…" he glanced away. "Well, I felt guilty about getting you involved in this mess again."
His admission floored her momentarily but then the indignation welled up and her face was burning. "After everything that happened before…how could you…"

"I know," he said loud enough to drown out the tirade he figured was brewing. "But it's a bit late for either of us to be making excuses about the way we feel, don't you think?"

And there it was again, that terrible honesty of his with its keen edge that sliced to the crux of any situation. It drove her crazy when he did that but of course he had his own fears, and after everything that had happened over the last twenty years, what a fool he'd be to ignore them. Still, she hesitated.

"And Marlena?"
Tony took a deep breath and she could see his temper beginning to disintegrate. "This is not about her being their mother, is it? It's about her being in Salem…damn, I don't believe we're even having this discussion," he said, rubbing his eyes. "For heaven's sake woman, when was I ever interested in Marlena?"
"Well, she's…she's beautiful and smart and…"
"And if you recall, quite available on both occasions when I was in Salem."
"Oh come on Tony, things change."

When his laughter erupted, it took her completely by surprise and all at once he was in front of her, his hand wrapped around her waist, pressing her body tightly up to his own. "You silly, adorable creature," he chuckled, kissing her with fiery quickness. "You're still jealous."
"I am not…"
But his lips continued doing indescribable things to her senses.
"…and just as infuriating and as you ever were…" he whispered.
"Am I?" She tried to swallow when her breath caught in her throat. "Then I guess you're stuck."
He blinked at her. "Is that a yes?"
She nodded. "But I've got news for you Tony DiMera, I have no intention of waiting around for the next six months."
Grinning, he said. "How does tomorrow sound?"
"Lovely, as long as you don't burn the house down first," she laughed, gesturing at the smoke that was rising from one of the pans behind him.