Unmasqued

They laughed and talked and ate; she cooked and washed and cleaned. She learned that, along with his arrogance and mysterious demeanor, Erik had a dry wit and a range of strong opinions on everything from women's fashion to the management of the Opera House. He was well-read and a brilliant engineer who had created a luxurious, if cloistered, living space for himself.

As the week went by, Christine's life at the Opera House was pushed away into the deepest corner of her mind. It became like the memory of a completely different life-competitive, crowded, loud, and superficial. The life embodied by the beautiful lady.

A life to which she was not eager to return.

The only mar on her days was the black mask that Erik refused to remove. She did not know if he even took it off when he slept, for he disappeared after they made love and returned before Christine awoke in the morning.

She did not understand it. She had seen every other part of his body, and it was as perfect as a man's figure could be. Long and lean, muscular without being bulky, golden, and dusted with the right amount of rich black hair in just the right places. What could be so terrible on such a model of perfection that he had to hide it from her?

The one time she attempted to raise the subject, Erik responded with such deep, cold anger and stormed out of the room in such a violent manner that Christine became even more confused and curious. "You can never understand," he snarled, and then locked himself in the music room for the rest of the day and night.

The rabid scratching of his pen over paper followed by discordant clashes and mournful chords came from the room well into the night, and continued when Christine awoke the next day.

Yet, she would not forget it. She could not bear to have something as simple as a tooled piece of leather between them.

And so, when, on the seventh day after he had brought her there, she awoke early in the morning and found him dozing on a chaise in the music room, she knew she at last had the opportunity. Her plan was to carefully lift the mask to see what was beneath, and to show him that it had no effect on her feelings for him. Surely, once the mask was removed and he saw that she still loved him, any annoyance he might harbor would dissolve.

She knew how to turn his attention to more pleasurable things.

Christine approached him quietly, noticing as she always did the way the broad sprinkling of hair dusted his square, molded chest, and trailed into a slender line into his trousers. The column of his neck, wide and long, curved above his throat's tender hollow… one area on his sleek body that was as vulnerable as her own.

She reached, lifted the mask, and pulled it off quickly and smoothly.

What she saw was horrible-horrible! — and she screamed as his eyes flew open and he launched himself off the chaise.

"Damn you, Christine!Damn you!" he cried, covering his horrid, disfigured face, scrabbling for the mask that still dangled from her fingers as she stared in terrified shock. "How could you?" he shouted, snatching at the mask and jamming it back on his face, grabbing her arm and throwing her to the chaise.

She stumbled, fell, crying as he raged and shouted, shoving papers off the piano, sending them cascading over the floor. He was crying, shaking, clutching at his middle as though he'd taken a bullet there, even as he shouted obscenities at her, his eyes wild and wide, his mouth curled in an irate red twist.

"Damn you!" he cried over and over. "Damn… you… Christine

."

He collapsed on the floor with great, jerking sobs that came from somewhere so deep they were nearly inaudible. But his entire folded body wrenched with each ruptured breath, and when he raised his flat blue eyes to stare at her at last, Christine knew she'd done the unforgivable.

Chapter Ten

Christine Daae had disappeared more than seven days earlier and Maude knew Erik had taken her to where he might introduce her to more… personal tutelage. She smiled at the thought of the pleasure Christine was to receive from Erik's strong body.

Since then, Carlotta had returned to grace the stage with her impossibly high, trilling arias, and the Opera House managers jumped at every shadow or every loud noise.

Maude felt it was her duty to find ways to help alleviate their tension.

She'd been anticipating her own pleasure when she finally got Monsieur Firmin Richard alone and at her mercy, but the moment never seemed to materialize. The man was always surrounded by people-stage managers, singers, dancers, musicians, even patrons. Maude had no choice but to take drastic measures.