Vince McMahon opened his eyes at the realization that someone was knocking on his bedroom door. He sat up, his eyes actually hurting, and he nearly flinched as he noticed the time on his digital clock - three-fourteen AM.
"What in blazes...?" The elder man stood up, angry to say the least, that somebody had enough nerve to disturb him at this time of night.
His wife, Linda, was not in the bed with him. The McMahon matriarch had her own bedroom, and if the truth were known, all of that kind of love had left their marriage years earlier. Vince knew it, Linda knew it, and even the kids as well as their hired help, knew it.
Yanking the door to his bedroom open, the man squinted out into the hall.
"What is it, Melody?" he nearly snapped at the live-in housekeeper who stood there, practically cowering.
"Mr. McMahon, I'm so sorry to waken you. But there's a visitor, and he insists on seeing you."
"Tonight? Now?!" Vince barked.
"Good evening, Vince." The voice drew the older man's attention off of the demure housekeeper. Paul Levesque was standing just off to the left side and peered in at him.
"What the hell are you doing here at this godforsaken hour? Paul, don't you ever sleep?"
"Yeah, about that," Paul said, scratching the back of his neck and actually exhibiting some humility for once in his life, "I really couldn't sleep."
"Yeah?" Vince snapped. "Well, some of us were doing just fine." He cast the younger man a dirty look before reaching for his robe on the foot of the bed. As he slipped it on and belted it, he sighed with resignation. "Come on to the den."
The two men entered the hallway, and once they reached the right room, Mr. McMahon gestured for Paul to go in first. Flipping on a lamp instead of the overhead light, the WWE boss slid into his large brown leather easy chair and leaned back, propping his slipper-encased feet up on the maple desk.
"So, tell me what exactly is on your mind," he said. Unfortunately, the man was certain he already knew, and he prepared himself for yet another tirade.
"You already know, Vince," came the reply. Levesque leaned forward in his seat on a plush leather couch that matched the old man's chair. His already harsh features hardened as he continued. "It's Stephanie... and that damned O'Haire. I can't believe that guy - the nerve!"
The chairman refrained from rolling his eyes, but he couldn't prevent himself from yawning. But damn it, he couldn't help it, as it was quarter after three in the morning and he'd been woken out of a sound sleep.
"What now?"
"I'll tell you 'what now,'" Paul whined. "I had a little chat with your precious little girl after the show tonight. We got into an argument and then she totally blew me off when 'Prince Charming' came to her rescue!" He shook his head, his already lined forehead growing even more lined as he frowned deeply. "I tried to confront her about the storyline and the guy's contract, but she wasn't having any of it." His right hand balled into a fight, and he could feel his blood pressure rising.
McMahon sighed and faced the man who'd almost become his son-in-law.
"Why are you allowing this to bother you so much, Paul? I told you before - no one is going to steal your spot," he said. "And he certainly won't ever see the salary you get. He would be lucky to get even one-tenth of it."
Levesque grinned, but it was more of a sadistic expression than anything else. He just couldn't rid his mind of this, or of the two of them. They made him sick! He let out a small chuckle, but then all traces of light left him as he sneered again.
"Ain't that the truth... Look, Vince - I'm gonna say this and only once," Paul said between slightly clenched teeth. "If that man gets in my face again, in any way, shape or form, it's on. I will take him out by any means necessary - even if I have to get a sledgehammer." He met the old man's tired eyes, which grew slightly wide as he listened to him.
Vince frowned as he figured the younger man was referring to his daughter with the words, 'what's rightfully mine.'
"I may even go a step or two further than that. No one, and I mean no one," Levesque spat, "is gonna stop me from regaining the WWE Championship!"
McMahon eased back a bit, relieved that it was only the coveted title belt Paul was referring to. Had he been talking about Stephanie, he might have thrown him out of his house, and very well might have even gone so far as to fire him. He nodded.
"Very well," he said and stood up. "I won't dispute you or try to stop you in any way. If you'll excuse me now, I'd like to get back to sleep. I have a huge company to run, after all." He nodded at the younger man.
Levesque rose and joined the man out in the hallway of the spacious mansion.
"Good. I'm glad you see things my way. Have a good night, Vince."
Not a word did he speak as to apologizing for waking up the boss in the middle of the night, but on the other hand, McMahon had to remind himself that he'd done that earlier.
"Goodnight, Paul."
With that, the younger man left, and Vince was happy to return to his slumber.