''Leave us. Now.''
The stunned model on the receiving end of the succint, icy command - a blue-eyed version of famed runway goddess Pat Cleveland - momentarily wavered between shock and fear.
''Stay right there,'' Sabrina replied calmly, her back to the door.
For some reason totally unfathomable to the model, the designer at her side seemed in no way moved by the sight the model beheld. That was fine, Pat Jr. reasoned silently, for she was concerened enough for the both of them. Twitching ever so slightly, she nervously sought to cover her bare breasts. Not out of some sudden wave of prudishness; a seasoned professional, nudity was a natural to her as breathing. Rampant fear, however, was not. Subsequently, she deduced that should she have to leave the building in her present state - topless, adorned with elegantly draped yet loosely pinned silk below the waist - she sought to be able to make as dignified an exit as possible. And make no mistake, with every fiber of her being, she realized either at the man's hands or of her own volition, she would be leaving the room.
Of that, the living, breathing portrait of rage striding towards her that was Stefan Cassadine left no doubt in her mind.
Ever so slightly, the stunned, statuesque human manequin began to move forward, attempting to step down from the platform. ''Oww!'' she yelped as never once taking pause from her alterations, with lightning-like speed, Sabrina delivered a faint yet sharp prick to her thigh.
''There's more where that came from if you don't do as I say,'' Sabrina warned. ''If you just plan to stand there blowing your stack,'' she tossed over her shoulder to Stefan, ''could you at least make yourself useful and turn up the music?'' she asked, nodding to the stereo system. Currently, a CD by one of favorite singers was playing, and the volume was way to low for Sabrina's liking.
''I shall do more than 'blow my stack,' if you do not give me your undivided attention immediately, Ms. DeLane,'' Stefan intoned. His voice had an almost feral quality to it. Not that it made any difference to the talented couturier, for she continued to devote her attention to the creation before her. ''Very well then,'' Stefan stated. ''As you wish.''
Seconds later, yards of exquisite silken fabric (along with a slew of straight pins) flew past Sabrina in a blur as Stefan proceeded take the model by the arm and gallantly yet forcefully remove her from the platform. Leading the startled, scantily clad, and confused young woman to the door, Stefan informed her, ''You will be compensated for your time today, I assure you. Simply speak with the Secretary on your way out.''
Inhaling deeply, Stefan willed himself to remain calm. Silently cursing himself, he wondered how it was that he could have let things gotten this out of hand?! Surely, his days of dealing with difficult women had ended with Laura? Or so he thought, he realized, as he turned to find a fuming Sabrina staring him down.
Arms akimbo, her breathing slow and steady, the only indication of Sabrina's ire was the faint tapping of a stilletto heel against the marble floor.
''Well?!'' they both demanded in unison.
