Slow, pensive steps carried Andresj’ across the marble floor of the library until he came to rest beside the ornate high back chair opposite the fireplace. His gaze drifted to the chair’s occupant, silently nursing a drink, apparently deep in thought. Wordlessly, he smoothly retrieved the tumbler and took a sip. Moments later, a slow, sibilant hiss escaped his lips.

“Does Papa know of this?” Andresj chided. “Whatever you are pondering must truly be serious, Thea, if you are consuming Papa’s private reserve. . .and vodka no less.”

“I. . .have a decision to make,” Sabrina said softly.

“Sounds serious.”

“It is.”

“And this. . . ‘decision,’ is it also of a personal nature?”

“How do you know,” she smoothly reached for the tumbler, “it’s not work-related?” Polishing off the remainder of the drink, she set the empty tumbler aside on the nearby table.

“Simple, Sabryn. Work—no matter how serious the situation—always equals wine for you. Always. If it’s personal, as befits any Cassadine worth his—or her—ilk, a stronger spirit is required.”

“Always,” they laughed in unison.

“And, yet. . . I sense you are hesitant to make this decision, Sabryn.” ‘Dre’s gaze, like Sabrina’s, remained on the flames. “Tell me. Why is that so?”

“Simply put? I am afraid. Terrified, actually. And, ridiculously enough, for all the wrong reasons. The average woman would be terrified of what could be lost. Not me.” She looked up at Andresj’ and smiled but the act held no joy. “The thing that terrifies me most is all that I stand to gain. That I could actually be. . .”

“Happy?” Andresj’ finished.

“Yes.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Thus, I am utterly and completely terrified.”

“No, that is not true,” he admonished softly. Extending his hand, he drew her to her feet so that they were face to face. “What you are is Cassadine.” His stare was unrelenting, as if by his very will he could dispel all her fears and doubts. “And what is it that we do?”

“Evaluate a situation,” she replied. “Assess what needs to be done. . .”

“And we do it.”

Gingerly, Sabrina cupped his chiseled cheeks within the warmth of her palms. At that moment, all she could manage was a weak smile to offer her thanks. “How did you get to be so wise?”

Andresj returned her smile, again, silently willing her to draw strength from him, from its warmth. “For that, Thea, you may thank Papa.”

“Yes,” she answered softly, her voice thick with emotion. “I suppose I should.”

The faint tingle of the shimmer of tears beginning to register, Sabrina regarded her beloved nephew in silence. So much of ‘Dre’s father could be seen in his face—and not just the physical resemblance. Looking at him at times for Sabrina was like seeing the Stefan of her and Tasha’s youth; the young man they both had adored beyond human comprehension. In ‘Dre’s playful nature Sabrina was able to recall the brief period before Stefan wrestled power away from Helena; those rare, precious times when a hint of a smile present upon his handsome visage was far more common than the severe, stoic exterior that the world and most of the family (both extended and close) had come to know.

Yet behind the warm dark orbs of Stefan’s youngest, she had no doubt lurked the very same tenacity and near super human single-mindedness that she as well as others both admired and cursed Stefan for. More often than not her thoughts were consumed with concern that her young nephew’s existence not play out as his father’s had; the better part of his life spent in sacrifice to the family, never fully pursuing nor knowing true love or happiness until his later years. Much the way, she noted, her own life seemed to be unfolding. Forcing aside those doubts and fears she summoned forth a smile one again, more of an attempt to ward off the worry she saw beginning to register in Andresj’s eyes.

Smoothly, Andresj’ captured first one then Sabrina’s other hand and held them both easily clasped within his, bringing them to rest against his chest. “Talk to me, Thea. What is it that vexes you so?” His gaze bore into her glistening orbs; like his tone there was no doubt as to his demand for an answer.

“Pay me no mind.” A watery smile accompanied the insistent shake of her head that sent her raven tresses dancing atop her shoulders. Cupping his face once more, Sabrina leaned in and kissed him softly, smiling her thanks. “Go, Andresj. Do not keep young Miss Quartermaine waiting. I just need a few more moments with my thoughts and then I shall turn in for the evening.”

“So you have made your decision?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I have.”