Sean awoke to the pleasant feel of a delicate pair of hands caressing his chest from behind. He gave a happy groan and loved the sweet, fragrant scent that was purely Stephanie as he turned over so as to face her.
"Hey, you," she said in a slightly husky voice. Her long hair was mussed and her face wore a happy smile. She could hardly believe she was actually waking up beside this man. It was such an amazing feeling, and she was thrilled that this time, it wasn't merely a dream but reality. He was so wonderful to her, and they'd had quite the passion-filled night. She closed her eyes as he moved to first press a kiss to her forehead before moving on to her willing lips.
Moments later, she was sitting in bed, pulling on a white terrycloth robe in preparation for a quick shower.
"I think you'll rather appreciate the script for tonight's show."
He cast her a glance from over his shoulder as he got dressed.
"Yeah? What's on the agenda?" he asked.
Stephanie smiled, and there was a sort of innocence in that look as she held a small ream of papers in her hand.
"Come have a look yourself," she offered.
O'Haire zipped up his jeans, and, still shirtless, sidled up to her. He studied the expression of amusement present on her face and gratefully took the script from her. He skimmed through it quickly, and a slow smile steadily spread across his face.
"So, it all starts tonight?" he asked. It seemed so immediate, but who was he to complain about something this good? Besides, this was his second opportunity with the company, and the first time, he hadn't even been given the ball with which to run. He was going to enjoy every single second of this.
"It's gradual, but yeah," the brunette replied. "You'll attack John Cena tonight, and I'll come out, pretending to be all mad because you attacked the champ." She smirked as she gazed up at him. "I then 'punish' you by putting you into a match against Triple H and come out to ringside for it. I pretend I'm going to help him for the sake of our past together, but instead, it turns out I was aligned with you all the time." Stephanie laughed heartily as she allowed her hands to trail over to the man's well-muscled pecs.
"Steph," he said, a small bit concerned, "are you sure the match is a good idea? I mean, we both kow Paul Levesque hates me."
"He hates me, too."
"But won't he feel like he's being set up or something?"
The brunette rolled her eyes.
"I don't give a damn what Paul thinks. Besides," she reasoned, "this isn't about him, it's about you, Sean... and your opportunity to feud with John for the WWE Championship."
The dark-haired man searched the young woman's face.
"Are you sure he won't just take this as a personal shot, though? I mean, I don't give a shit if he tries to start anything with me... But Steph, I don't want that guy giving you anymore of a hard time than he already has."
Stephanie smiled, thoroughly touched. He really was so sweet and thoughtful. As far as she could remember, no other man had ever been so nice to or concerned for her... not even Paul. Well, especially not Paul.
"You are a true sweetheart," she whispered, pulling his head down to hers for a kiss.
*
Levesque's jaw dropped with complete and utter outrage as he read his script for the evening's RAW. What the hell?! Stephanie had some damn nerve, and if she thought she was going to get away with pulling a stunt like this on him, she had another thing coming! The nerve of that bitch!
Scowling, he hurled the stack of papers he was holding across the hotel room. He was going to be sure to put a stop to this before it even started. In a haste, he snatched his cell phone from the nightstand. He flipped it open so fast and hard, it was a miracle he hadn't broken it. Quickly, he dialed a number.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Vince, it's me," he said, trying his darndest not to snap. Instead, he tried to reign in his anger and remain calm. He knew Vince hadn't been all that pleased the last couple of times they'd spoken, when he'd been all furious. This was probably the best route to take with the old man, even if they were friends.
"Oh, good morning, Paul," Mr. McMahon said cheerily. "How are you?"
"Well, it's funny you should ask," Paul said, pinching the bridge of his large nose as he spoke. "Not very good, I'm afraid."
"I hope you're not sick."
Levesque could hear a touch of concern in the boss' voice.
"No, it's nothing like that, Vince," he assured him. He quickly cast through his mind, trying to decide how to proceed. Then, "Would it be okay if we met for breakfast?"
"Hmm," Vince said on the other end, as though thinking it over. "All right, why not? I haven't eaten yet. Just give me ten minutes, and I'll meet you at the cafe across the street."
In spite of the fact that he was still very angry over what he'd read in that script, Paul smiled. And he was relieved as well.
"Great. I'll be there."