Chapter Five
Coming Out From the Shadows
Raspberry banana crepes, at one point, were Jason's favorite breakfast item that Cook made, but, as he cut into one that morning, he found the fancy French cuisine to be lacking. Instead, all he wanted was one of Elizabeth's odd yet endearing breakfasts, breakfasts filled with foods that normally were not eaten in the morning. Sometimes it was grilled cheese and tomato soup, one lazy Saturday she had ordered them tacos, and his favorite was the week before when they had both been too exhausted from a night of tasting each other in bed to even consider calling out for food. So, hungry but with no ambition, they had resorted to eating cold pizza and drinking beer, the only thing she had in her mini-fridge, for their first meal of the day. But, it was the middle of the week, and he wasn't with Elizabeth; he was with his wife, and even the simplest things such as what he ate for breakfast made Jason feel stifled and claustrophobic. It was to the point where he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to survive living out the Quartermaine ideal.
Dissatisfied with his food and unwilling to eat something just because he had once enjoyed it, the pediatrician pushed aside his plate, reached for the carafe, and poured himself another steaming hot cup of coffee. Black. He had once disguised the bitter taste of the liquid with crème and sugar, but, as his outlook on life changed, so did his palate. In fact, there wasn't much left of the man he had once been.
He dressed differently. With his relationship with Elizabeth, he never knew when she might call him up wanting to do something, and the suits he had been raised to wear day in and day out did not fit with the accountant's style or sense of adventure. Ties simply got in the way if they decided to rent a bike for an afternoon and go for a ride, silk shirts were too thin to take walks in the woods, and expensive Italian loafers were impractical when she dragged him to the shooting range. Gone were his tailored suits and designer casual ensembles to be replaced with practical jeans, t-shirts, warm leather jackets, and boots, motorcycle boots, and, oddly enough, not only were the new clothes more comfortable, but Jason also felt more at home in the simple garments, more like the man he wanted to be and not the man his family told him to be.
His hair was growing longer by the day, and, although he didn't particularly care one way or another how he wore his hair, Jason could tell that Elizabeth preferred it long. She could run her fingers through it when they were in bed together, lounging around and talking, and, when they were in the throes of passion, she would pull on his golden locks, the harsh treatment both a punishment and a pleasure.
As far as his schedule went, he spent only the amount of time that he was required to at the hospital, never working over, and, with his extra time, he paid more attention to his daughter, taking her out to dinner, helping her with her homework, and he was even considering the idea of taking her to the art classes the hospital was offering to the terminal pediatric patients. So far, he had not had the courage to introduce the two most important women in his life to each other, but, as his relationship with Elizabeth progressed and grew more powerful, Jason knew that would soon change.
All in all, he was practically a new man, reinvented with the help of his mistress but modeled after the image he had always pictured for himself. However, although he noticed all the differences, both on the outside and on the inside, the doctor was unsure as to whether or not his family had picked up on the changes he had been implementing. If they had, they didn't react to them, and, if they hadn't, he wondered just how oblivious they really were to everyone else but themselves. And when he said his family, that sentiment, unfortunately, also included his wife.
"After all these years of you lecturing me about my eating habits, you're the one who no longer eats."
"I eat," Jason defended himself, never once even looking up at his wife. "I just don't eat here."
"Among other things," the blonde across from him remarked dryly.
For several moments they were silent. His grandfather, parents, aunt, brother, and cousins had yet to make their way to the table, but the pediatrician knew the quiet wouldn't remain much longer, and, soon, he and his spouse would be joined by the rest of the Quartermaine household. Deciding to take advantage of the situation, he put his coffee cup down, stood up, and stared at the mother of his only child until she relented and returned his gaze.
"I'm having an affair."
"No, really?" It was rare when the woman across from him displayed sarcasm, but her tone reassured him. Not only had she noticed the differences in him, but she obviously didn't care about them. "Just remember what I told you, Jason," she directed coldly. "You're either discreet or… well, to be blunt, I'll make your life a living hell."
As he walked out of the formal dining room, he did not doubt his wife's words for a minute, and, if there was anyone in the world who had the power to destroy him, it was the woman he was married to.
"Do you know what I think I love the most about you?" Jason felt the brunette beside him tense, her body language betraying her level of discomfort with his choice of words. So, to help her relax once again, he amended his previous statement by adding, "what I love the most about you physically." With his right elbow propped up underneath him and his hand fisted at his temple, the doctor was reclined in bed, lounging languidly beside a very naked and very satisfied Elizabeth. They had just made love, but, unlike the stereotype, he wasn't tired. Refusing to allow her to cover her body, she lay bare at his side, every smooth, glorious inch of her on display for his greedy eyes.
The artist didn't answer though. Instead, she simply sighed in pleasure, content to just listen to him. Finally, Jason responded, "I love your skin. I love how pure, how flawless it is. I love that it is always warm to the touch even when we've been outside for hours walking through the woods or playing in the snow. I love how a pink blush steals across it when you're embarrassed, when you've just taken a shower, or when we've just made love." He knew she wouldn't particularly care for his choice of words, but the pediatrician refused to refer to their actions any other way. "I love how it practically shimmers in the dark and glows in the moonlight. I love how it feels underneath my own fingers, impossibly soft, so soft I can lose myself in your embrace. When your arms are wrapped around me, I feel safe and at ease, like I'm being wrapped up in a satin sheet."
Despite her best efforts, the rose blush Jason had spoke of was making its way down Elizabeth's cheeks, onto her neck, and further down onto her chest and pert breasts. "Well, aren't you just full of flattery today." Rolling away from him, she settled back down once she was resting on her stomach, her arms folded underneath her head, acting as a pillow. "I'm sure you say those things to all the girls."
"What girls?"
"You know," she prompted him, quirking one finely shaped brow, "your wife, the nurses you work with, the good looking mothers that come in with their kids."
Suddenly serious, he slid closer to her, needing the reassurance of her knowing and believing that he had never been as intimate with another woman as he was with her. "Elizabeth…"
But she wouldn't let him. "I'm glad you like my skin so well," she started, but he interrupted her.
"I love your skin."
"However," she teased, ignoring his remark. Popping her legs up, she swung them back and forth in the air, crossing them at the ankles. "I've been thinking lately about getting something."
"What?"
"But now that I know how fond you are of my flawless skin, I'm not so sure you'd like the idea."
Jason tilted his head to the side in thought. Running his wintry gaze up and down her vulnerable form, both for the simple delight of it and to help him imagine what sort of something she might be talking about, he contemplated her words. Finally, realization dawned. "Are you getting a tattoo?"
"Well, I was thinking about it, but now I don't know. You know what they say," the accountant explained, "never mess with a good thing, and, apparently, my skin is a very, very good thing in your book."
His gaze was alight with possibilities. "Where would you get it?"
"Hm," Elizabeth shrugged, dismissing the idea. "I'm not sure. It was just something I was considering. I had no definite plans. Why do you ask?"
Without a word, the blonde climbed out of bed, making his way towards the shelves where she kept her clean paintbrushes, unabashedly naked. He could feel her watching him, her deeply hued, observant eyes following his every move, and Jason relished the idea that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Returning to her side, he lowered himself back onto bed but did not lay down. Instead, he moved so that he was braced across her body, straddling her legs with one knee on each side of her. Her still swinging legs fell silently to the mattress, and, taking the action as an invitation, he readied the brush in his hand and began his inquisitive seduction.
"Would it be here," he asked, dipping the bristles down to just barely skim across her delicate left ankle, swirling the artist's tool around in a circular, tempting motion.
"No, too impersonal, too open for the rest of the world to see," she denied his suggestion.
Keeping his touch away from her body, he moved the brush up until it was hovering just over her shoulder blades. With the gentlest of strokes, he painted an invisible mark across the top portion of her back, watching as goosebumps rose on her delicate skin and she shuddered slightly from desire. "I see a lot of tattoos here. It's a popular choice."
"It is," Elizabeth agreed with him, "but, as you said, anyone can see it if you wear a slightly revealing shirt, and if I got a tattoo, I wouldn't even want it to show when I wore my bathing suit."
Trailing the bristles down her spine, the physician stopped them at the small of her back, twirling the brush along the sensual dip of her body where her hips met the rise of her round and purely feminine derrière. "What about here?"
"Didn't I mention that my bathing suit is a bikini, a very tiny, extremely revealing string bikini?"
"Note to self," he laughed, "take Elizabeth swimming this summer as often as possible." Instead of replying, she simply stretched, causing the fine and graceful muscles of her body to pull and tighten before smoothing out once again. Determined to continue, he pressed on. Lifting the brush from her nude form, the doctor smirked to himself before dropping it to run mischievously along the curve of her bottom. His fingers, his lips wanted to follow the path of the paintbrush, but, denying himself, Jason remained still and allowed the bristles to be the only thing touching the brunette's petal soft skin. "Here?"
"Do not even think about it. Your name in a heart will not be permanently inked on my ass," she warned him, giggling playfully at the very idea.
"I would have settled for initials," he returned just as lightheartedly. Still without an answer and finding their little game to be highly erotic, Jason lifted himself off her body, sat down beside her on the bed, and reached out to roll her over so that she was resting on her back, giving him a new, unexplored canvas to work with. Deciding first to start with her thighs, he danced the brush across the very top of her legs. "I know this would still show in your very tiny, extremely revealing string bikini, but I like this spot."
She writhed and twisted beneath him, the whispered touch of the bristles tickling the sensitive location on her body. "Do you honestly think I'd be able to sit still long enough while someone tattooed me there?"
The lady had a point. Moving on, the pediatrician slid his paintbrush up her supple form until it came to a stop just above the rounded slope of her right breast. Aroused, her dusty nipples stood erect before him, tantalizing him to cease what he was doing and take the aching, swollen buds into his mouth. Refusing to give in, he questioned, "would your bathing suit cover here?"
Without a word, Elizabeth responded by simply smiling demurely and nodding her head no. He wanted to see her in the bikini so badly, that he had to clamp his eyes shut and grit his teeth in an attempt to regain control of his quickly unraveling restraint. The efforts were in vain. Knowing his little game of seduction had gone too far, the blonde dropped the paintbrush he was holding and slithered his way down the body of the quivering woman beneath him. Stopping underneath her belly button, low on her stomach almost to the point where her thighs met, Jason placed a chaste, tender kiss on her alabaster skin, loosing himself in the touch of her against his lips, in the scent of their desire mingling in the warm, still air of her studio. "What about here," he asked, but, before she could reply, his mouth continued moving further and further down her body until the idea of a tattoo fled both of their minds, and the only thought either of them had was about the sheer bliss his tongue, teeth, and lips were bringing the thrashing, begging, glistening, moaning, trembling, screaming brunette under him.
It had been nearly a week since Jason had last seen Elizabeth, and he felt as if he was ready to climb out of his own skin. The lack of her presence in his life was quickly and efficiently driving him out his mind. Every time he called her to see if she wanted to do something with him, she always had an excuse as to why they couldn't. The gallery would be opening soon, and she wasn't ready. There was just too much work for one person to do. If he would offer to go in with her, she would turn him down, claiming he would be more of a distraction than an assistance. Although she was right, the fact that she seemed to not want to spend time with him hurt.
However, it was Thursday which meant that they were both together at the art class she offered at the hospital. True, there were a dozen children running around, interrupting them and making sure that they spent absolutely no alone time together, but the doctor felt better simply being in the same room with her. While she helped the patients with their art projects for that week, he would watch her. She was wonderful – attentive, warm, generous, and gracious. The kids all adored her, and, if one looked close enough, it was obvious that Elizabeth felt the same way about the kids. Seeing her apparent joy surprised him.
When he spoke about his daughter, she was always receptive and curious, but she never pushed him for information, and she certainly never asked to meet his little girl. Because of that, the pediatrician had always assumed that she didn't enjoy spending time with children, so, when he approached his father with the idea of the art classes for the terminal patients, it had simply been so that he and Elizabeth could spend time together in public; he had never anticipated her liking the classes and her pupils so much. The fact that she did made him care even more for her, and he was resolute that his daughter and his mistress would soon be meeting each other.
The hour long class soon ended, Jason getting lost in observing the woman his mind was always with and his body always wished to be with, and, before he knew what was happening, they were alone, cleaning up the small conference room which had been turned into a mini studio. Propped up on the countertop by the sink, the accountant's legs crossed primly before her, she watched as he cleaned out all the paint dishes, rinsing them out and putting them away in the cupboard, never once saying a word.
"You've been avoiding me."
Without addressing his statement, she changed the topic. "And you're being petulant."
"I realize that you're busy, that your job is important to you, but I was under the impression that I meant something to you, too."
Softening her facial expression, Elizabeth smiled at him. "You do."
"Then why haven't you wanted to spend any time with me this week," he pressed, needing an answer. Doubt about their relationship, about her interest in still seeing him, had plagued the blonde since he walked out of her apartment door the weekend before. He knew she was quickly becoming his weakness, a vulnerability that could be used against him, and, although he didn't like the feeling of needing someone, he was learning to accept the helplessness he felt where she, the young artist, was concerned. However, that said, he wasn't yet prepared to tell her just how much power she had over him. So, to add a practical element to his apprehension, he continued. "You know all about the kinds of horrors we see that come through those doors downstairs, because I've told you about some of them. Next time work gets too hectic for you to hang out, would you please call me just to let me know you're okay and not laying hurt somewhere? I know that you're just not an accountant; I know that there's more to your job than operating art galleries." When her face screwed up in question, he explained, "you carry a gun. Most number crunchers I know consider a calculator the only weapon they need."
"I told you before and I'll tell you again," she reassured him, "I can take care of myself, but," she stopped him from interrupting her by holding up a hand, "although I don't foresee a next time coming up, if it ever does, I'll check in and let you know that I'm still kicking."
"Thank you."
"That said so," Elizabeth smirked, avoiding his gaze, "I have a confession. I wasn't exactly working the whole time this week."
He knew it; he knew that something else was going on. They had gotten too close the last time they were together, too intimate, and now she was running scared from him, from his feelings for her, and the feelings he believed she had for him. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I was hiding from you."
That Jason had not been expecting. "Hiding? From me?"
"I couldn't have you come over to the apartment," the brunette clarified. "If you would have come over, then you would have picked up on the fact that something was different, and then you would have started snooping around."
The physician grinned, his face smug and arrogant in appearance. "You bought me something?"
Hedging, she admitted, "I guess you could say that, but it's not what you're thinking, and, besides, it's kind of for the both of us, because I'm sure we're both going to get enjoyment from it."
"You're being very cryptic, Elizabeth."
"Well, a girl can't be straightforward when the topic of conversation is supposed to be a surprise. That said, you're also being obtuse, seeing as how we've discussed this before."
Understanding dawned. "You didn't?"
Uncrossing her legs, the accountant quirked a single finger and motioned for Jason to approach her. Obeying, he dropped the dish he had been cleaning out, letting it clatter against the metal of the sink and splatter purple paint on both the counter and his shirt. Moving to stand between her now open legs, he leaned into her body, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her into a tight embrace. In return, Elizabeth enfolded him in her body, twining her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Their clinch was inappropriate for the hospital, for the public; if anyone, including his family, walked in on them, it would be obvious that they were more than acquaintances, more than friends who worked together once a week to provide an hour's worth of distraction for a dozen very ill pediatric patients, but neither the doctor nor the artist cared, in that moment, if they were caught. Instead, they were too engrossed in each other.
Finally, she confessed, biting her lip, "I did."
"When do I get to see it?"
"This weekend," Elizabeth answered, lowering her face so that their foreheads could rest against each others, "that is if you can come over." Teasing him, she asked, "do you want to have a slumber party with me, Doctor Quartermaine?"
"Just as long as we don't do much sleeping, you know I'll be there." She laughed melodically at his words, gracing him with a bright, generous smile. Curious, he pressed, "do I get a hint as to the location of the surprise?"
She shook her head yes. Instead of speaking though, the young woman simply let go of his neck, took one of his larger hands in both of her delicate, petite ones and guided his palm to rest low against her abdomen, practically cupping her heat. Jason was instantly aroused, his body alert with need and straining with passion. He wanted her, right there in a very public, very unrestricted hospital conference room, the consequences be damned. Keeping his hand where she had placed it, he slowly moved his mouth closer towards hers, their short, sporadic breaths washing over each others mouths in anticipation, but, before he could kiss her, the door behind them opened up, Elizabeth froze, and he heard a gasp of shock and disgust kill any aura of seduction the two of them had managed to weave around them. Letting go of the accountant's form, the blonde turned around to face the third person in the room, rebelling against their disapproval by lacing the digits of his right hand through Elizabeth's left.
Lily Corinthos was the last person he had been expecting to find staring back at him.
"Doctor Quartermaine," she addressed him curtly, never once taking her cold, dark eyes from his companion's face. Without a word being said between the two women, he was aware of the fact that they knew each other. How though, he wasn't sure.
He knew the wife of the local mobster through both his job and society. Lily brought her two young children to see him; he was their pediatrician, and, despite the fact that her husband's business was less than reputable, he was still an extremely wealthy and powerful man, one some members of the upper class associated with simply because Sonny Corinthos was a better friend and ally than he was an enemy.
Distracting his thoughts, the older woman spoke again. "Everything makes sense now, Elizabeth – why you were so adamantly against me setting you up with one of Michael's guards, why you never seem to have time to spend with my family, why you're even more guarded and secretive than you used to be."
"Jason is a part of my personal life. I had nothing to compel me to share that information about my relationship with him to you."
"Nothing except the fact that I thought you and I were friends," Lily disagreed with the artist. "Nothing except that fact that my husband is your boss and thinks of you as practically his daughter."
Elizabeth worked for Sonny Corinthos? She was neck deep in the mob and tied to them more than professionally? Suddenly, the blonde understood why it was so important for her to carry a semi-automatic handgun around with her wherever she went.
"I knew that you'd disapprove of my relationship with Jason," the woman beside him explained. "I knew that both you and Sonny would try to stop me from seeing him."
"Of course we would," the wife and mother stated vehemently. "He's a married man, and you're, apparently, his mistress."
Speaking up for the first time, the physician faced off against an irate Lily. "Do not attempt to judge something you do not understand. You have no idea what Elizabeth is to me or what I mean to her."
"It doesn't matter what you are to each other," the older woman contradicted him, "because your relationship is wrong." Addressing Elizabeth once again, she warned, "and don't think that I won't tell Michael about this. He's my husband, and we have no secrets."
"I highly doubt he tells you everything, Lily," the accountant flippantly remarked.
"He tells me about the things that matter, and this," she gestured towards the two of them. "This matters."
Pivoting around in her designer shoes, the appalled and disparaging wife and mother stalked out of the room without saying another word. Their secret affair was no longer a secret, and Jason found himself wondering just how much longer they would be able to stay together without the entire town knowing. Smirking to himself, he helped Elizabeth down off the counter. If his wife knew about the scene that had just transpired, she would be livid. Discretion, apparently, was not his strong suit.
Sonny Corinthos was nervous. He had gone head to head with some of the most vicious men of the underworld, rival mob bosses, enforcers, ruthless bodyguards, he had ordered hits on despicable drug lords and fired the shot himself to murder the leaders of prostitution rings, and he daily dealt with the personal ramifications of his lifestyle, putting the safety of his family and his employees ahead of everyone and everything else. He never traveled anywhere without a weapon on his person, he was surrounded by guards, and his penthouse and arsenal of Towncars and limousines were all bullet proof. However, despite his kill or be killed attitude and his cold and impersonal persona when dealing with business, there was no one in the world who could make him more edgy than one petite Elizabeth Imogene Webber.
Her words cut him quicker and deeper than his wife's, her barbs and accusations perfectly timed and aimed for maximum damage. Her harsh glares could freeze even the most potent man's heart, stilling it and making the man tense with worry. The crime lord knew that she was swift to close her emotions off, shutting him and anyone else out who may, at one point, hurt her. In the blink of an eye, his accountant could completely disengage, and he would miss her in his life, no matter how disappointed he may be with her.
Needing to discuss the unacceptable information Lily had shared with him the night before, he had, unbeknownst to her, called a meeting with the younger woman early that morning, but, instead of asking her to join him for breakfast as he usually did, they were meeting in his office at the warehouse, an office he used strictly for the rather unsavory aspects of his business. Despite the fact that Elizabeth was his accountant for all aspects of his livelihood, Sonny attempted to shield her from the most objectionable portions of his life, especially since, over the years, she had come to mean more to him than any of his other employees; she had become a part of his family, and, just as his own daughter would get a lecture if she was engaging in the brunette's current behavior, Elizabeth was going to listen to his concerns, and they were going to come to some sort of understanding. At least, that's what the mafia don hoped.
With a soft knock on his thick, wooden door, the guard he had ordered to escort the artist to his office alerted Sonny to the fact that Elizabeth had arrived, leaving him with no more time to organize his thoughts and prepare his speech. Rather unceremoniously, she entered, glowering in his direction. Dressed as she always was in a pair of black pants, a black dress shirt, and heeled boots, the young woman sat down rigidly in one of the chairs placed before his desk.
"If I'm allowed one last request," she quipped acerbically, meeting his gaze head on, "I would ask that you wait a few days before fitting me for a pair of cement shoes. I just painted my toenails last night."
He was quick to chastise her. "Elizabeth, this is no laughing matter."
"I couldn't agree more, Sonny," she returned callously. "After all, kidnapping is a criminal offense."
"You wouldn't."
"You of all people should know what the human being is capable of when pushed to their limit." Sighing, the accountant continued, "as a father, as a husband, and as a businessman, I respect you, but, as a friend, you obviously have no respect for me, because, otherwise, we would not be meeting like this. That said, if you force my hand, I can guarantee that you won't like the results."
"Why are you doing this? Is he really worth straining our relationship?"
"Should it matter whether or not he's worth it," she challenged. "As I told Lily, Jason is a part of my personal life. My association with him is not affecting my work, so what I may or may not do with him is none of your concern."
"You're right," the employer agreed, "he is not affecting our professional connection, but his presence is upsetting our friendship."
"If you would have come to me as a friend to discuss this rationally, that would have been one thing, Sonny, but, instead, you send one of your men to break into my home, to bring me against my will to meet with you, and you treat me just like a piece of scum one of your flunkies picked up off the streets. You're the one who made this a business exchange, not me."
"Would you have consented though if I had asked to meet with you as your friend?"
"I guess we'll never know now, will we?"
She went to stand up, but his next words stopped her halfway through the action. "Before you go, let me say this. I don't approve of what you're doing. He's a married man, and, although you are not personally cheating on anyone, you're helping him commit adultery. To make matters worse, he and his wife have a seven year old daughter. You of all people should know what your relationship could do to that little girl."
"We're being careful."
"Don't you think that your parents said the same exact thing," he pressed, knowing that trying to get through to Elizabeth by using the pain her family had caused her was a cheap shot, but he took it anyway. "And where exactly do you think this relationship is going to go? Do you think that he's going to eventually leave his wife, take his daughter, and marry you?"
"Marriage means nothing to me," she snapped, moving forward to sit at the edge of her seat.
"Obviously, since you're helping him break his vows with little to no thought of the consequences," Sonny pointed out. "To put it bluntly, what you're doing is wrong. It's wrong in the eyes of the church, it's wrong in the eyes of society, and it's wrong in the eyes of both his family and your friends."
"But it feels right to me," the artist contradicted, "and no one and no corporation disguised as a religion is going to tell me what I should or shouldn't do, whom I should or shouldn't be with. Jason doesn't love his wife, he's miserable living in that house with the expectations of his family hanging over him, and, by being with me, he's finally happy and free to be the person he wants to be. I'm not going to take that away from him, and I'm not going to take that away from me, simply because a man who considers taking others' lives a strategic business tactic disapproves of my behavior. You, of all people, do not have the right to pass judgment on me."
"Don't you think that's slightly hypocritical of you, Elizabeth," he challenged her. "I know for a fact that you carry a gun."
"I do carry a gun, but it's for protection only, and I've never killed another person in self-defense or otherwise. Does it bother me that you have? To be frank, no, it doesn't. I realize that, in your world, the rules are different, that they have to be, and that you're as good of a man as you can possibly be, but, in the eyes of your precious church, murder is still murder, no matter how justified the action may be. So, until your hands are clean, do not sit behind your blood splattered desk and look down upon me for being with a man who's trapped in an unhappy marriage."
Cocking his head to the side, Sonny narrowed his obsidian eyes in her direction. "Are you threatening me?"
"I am," she confessed unrepentantly. "Either let this go and leave my relationship with Jason alone, or I'll quit. Trust me, it'll be a lot easier for me to find another job than it will be for you to find another accountant who can do what I have done and continue to do for you."
"You'd do that," the mob boss questioned. "You'd give up your entire life, your friends, hell, your identity, for some guy?"
Rising, Elizabeth moved towards the door before stopping and facing him once again. For her parting words, she said, "you and what I do for you do not make up my identity. I'd still be me without you, your family, or your organization in my life. As for your opinion of Jason, he's not just some guy." She shrugged her shoulders unapologetically. "He's my guy."
With that, she left, closing the door behind her on her way out of the private office. Like many of their meetings, the diminutive brunette left Sonny speechless. Their meeting had not gone as he had planned, but that did not surprise him. What did was the fact that his accountant's relationship with the town Golden Boy was not a passing fling or an association of convenience. For the first time in her life, Elizabeth Webber had allowed herself to fall in love, and, even if she didn't realize it yet herself, the way she felt for Jason Quartermaine could only have one possible result: heartache on her part. Despite their current rift, he would be there for her when the smoke cleared.
In fact, he rationalized, it might be better for her, easier for her, if he moved up the heartache, found a way to dissolve her relationship with the doctor before it could progress any further and become any deeper. To do that though, he would have to hold another meeting, this time with the man his young, impetuous friend had fallen for, and, when he did, Jason Quartermaine would have no idea what kind of mess he had gotten himself into. After all, no one messed with Sonny Corinthos' family, and, to him, his wife, and his children, Elizabeth Webber was just that.