Unmasqued

"Erik came upon Philippe and me this evening," Christine ventured to say.

"He did? So that is what precipitated this evening's events!" Madame's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

Christine told her, leaving out the fact that her body seemed to respond to the comte's assault, and the fact that Erik made love to her before leaving her in a whiff of anger. "Why does Philippe hate Erik?"

"I am not certain how it began, only that it was long ago, and there is some rivalry between them related to events that happened in their youth. Philippe has threatened to destroy Erik for some secret he knows about him, so Erik remains hidden in the Opera House underground. This is why the legend of the ghost has been created. I do not believe Philippe realized that Erik had become the Opera Ghost until recent events." Her stare pinpointed Christine, and she realized that Madame was speaking of her own interaction with the Angel of Music. "Erik has become careless since he has fallen in love with you, and now that Philippe knows who and where he is… it will not be long before he seeks to destroy him."

Madame looked at Christine, waiting until she looked back. "Make no mistake… Philippe is the one who killed Regine tonight, and he did it to make certain the public outcry toward the Opera Ghost is raised. Erik will not be safe for long. And neither are you."

Chapter Fourteen

"Think of it as having your cake and eating it too. There is no need to wed the girl in order to have her as your own," Philippe told his brother over a glass of claret the next evening. He still burned with hatred and fury for the mangled-faced bastard who'd interrupted his pleasure with Christine, but he was pleased that he had confirmed that Erik was indeed the Opera Ghost.

Now it was only a matter of time before he had his vengeance… and that sweet little quim. He sipped and smiled and hardened.

"A wife and a plaything," Raoul was musing, as though the thought had never occurred to him before. Perhaps it hadn't, the fool.

"Your marriage into the Le Rochet family will bring nothing but more power and money to our family, Raoul. And Celeste is most enamored with you… Certainly, she is not as beautiful as Miss Daae, but she is rich and she will stay out of your way. You will be able to keep Miss Daae in your bed, and Celeste in your parlor. In fact…" Philippe picked up the phallic-handled ivory whip he'd just acquired, and snapped it experimentally. "I think we could find quite comfortable accommodations for Miss Daae here at Chateau de Chagny, don't you think? The estate is certainly large enough."

He cracked the whip again languidly, delighting in the clean, crisp sound it made. From his chair, he shifted so that he faced the spread-eagled, ass-side-up lovely little upstairs maid who was arranged over a chaise. Just as Christine Daae had been last night. Or would have been, had Erik not interrupted them.

Anger tightened his mouth and he snapped the whip expertly, watching in delight as it scored a thin red mark down the maid's buttock. She jerked, shrieked, and jerked again when he laid another line across her other buttock. Not enough to break the skin… no, he had more finesse than that.

"My dear friend… Rose? Is that your name?" The whip cracked, and she shuddered, sobbing that he could call her Rose if that was what he wished. "Rose and the others will make certain Christine is well cared for. And you could visit her whenever you wish."

Raoul smiled, nodding slowly, as though he had just worked out the details in his mind. "Perhaps that could work. I could be her protector. She needs a protector, and if it is I, then no one else will dare to touch her. If Christine stayed here, Celeste would have no knowledge of her existence. I could visit when I wish. And I know that Rose and the rest of the staff are discreet."

"Indeed." Philippe nodded. He paid the staff very, very well in order to ensure their discretion… and their participation in all of the duties he required of them. Rose was a bit new to his private chambers, although she'd been at the chateau for well over a year, and therefore was still being trained. But he was certain she too would soon fit in rather nicely. And if she didn't… well… he had several options at his disposal.

And, for the moment, with her long, black curls and creamy white skin, she looked just as he'd imagined Christine would have looked… bare to him. Helpless. And, if he was not mistaken, more than a bit moist there between the legs.

He drained his claret and stood, the cock-handled whip in one hand, the other fingering the fringed edges of the braided end. His own cock filled his trousers and his breathing quickened.

"But I am not certain Christine would agree to come here, to Chagny House," Raoul said woefully.

"Do you want that Opera Ghost-what does she call him, the Angel of Music? — to have her? For that is, indeed, what he has planned. He will abscond with her and keep her prisoner in his deep, dark lair."