Oh, wow! Eleven reviews! You have no idea how excited I was to see I had that many reviews when I opened my email, my thanks to you all for taking the time to stop and review. I know you're not supposed to reply to reviewers, but saying thanks to:

Mirlo, Meredith, jtbwriter, Cookie222, citgirl2004, IvoryWolf, olinjerad, angel.of.genesis, erik'sangel527, anon, Chibi Binasu-chan

can't hurt, can it?

As a lot of you said, the last chapter was a flashback of sorts. I hope you like the newest chapter, it's been through a lot of drafts and I'm still not happy. I tried to make all reactions sound human and in character. Kindly tell me if I'm staying true to our beloved characters. Constructive criticism is always a delight. The last name is not my own, it is the last name given to Erik in the 1989 film version.

Onward!

S I X . M O N T H S . E A R L I E R

The security guard was looking at her funny, she realised. Not that it was too surprising considering the fact that she had been standing outside the building for close on fifteen minutes. Telling her boss that she was fine with meeting Mr. Destler and actually doing it were two entirely different things. She knew the reputation the man had and while she was sure that her work was up to scratch, she had no desire to be ripped apart by a man who, if you listened to the rumours, had no feeling and absolutely no soul whatsoever.

Destler was widely known and not just for being a successful (if ruthless) business man. Perhaps his most known attribute was the fact that he wore a mask. A white one, according to those who saw him on a daily basis, but it only covered half of his face. A notoriously private man, no-one knew exactly why this was so but it was the subject of much gossip – was he deformed? Hideously scarred from birth or from an accident? Or was he just a nutter who wore a mask for absolutely no reason whatsoever?

"Mam," she was broken out of her thoughts by the security guard in front of her, "do you have some business here or are you just admiring the pleasant view?"

Ignoring the sarcasm, she found her voice. "No, no. I have an appointment here at eleven. With Mr. Destler."

"I see." And the guard gave her a sympathetic look. 'Fantastic,' she thought, 'even the guard who looks after the front door feels sorry for me.' "My advice, mam? Make it as short as possible. He doesn't like whose blabber on."

"Thanks." She replied, giving him an uncertain smile as she walked through to reception. The woman at the desk, her name tag reading 'Linda' was a rather serious person who talked in that brisk, no-nonsense manner. She gave Christine a pass, telling her that Mr. Destler's office was on the fourth floor. Walking over to the elevator, she pressed the button surprised that an elevator opened immediately. She walked in and it bounced slightly, she glanced around suspiciously as if the elevator would plummet her to her death at any minute.

"It's perfectly safe, don't worry." a woman stepped into the elevator just before its doors closed.

Christine nodded slowly. "It's always safe till it drops someone to their doom."

The woman laughed. "I'm going to the third floor, you?"

"Fourth."

The woman gave her a look as she pressed the two numbers in. "You have a meeting with Mr. Destler." When Christine nodded, she said, "You have my sympathy." The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. "Good luck."

Christine had the distinct feeling she was going to need a whole lot more than luck. As the elevator shunted upwards, the butterflies in her stomach grew till. When it stopped, she had the feeling that she was going to throw up. Walking out, she found floor four to be exceedingly normal in its appearance. 'But then what were you thinking it would like that? A bat cave?' That thought made her grin, but it was quickly gone when a man came bustling over to her, demanding to know what she was doing here.

"A meeting with Mr. Destler at eleven," she said, showing him the pass. He took it from her, seemingly not convinced that she was here officially. He eventually gave it back.

"Follow me."

'Manners are a prerequisite for this job, I see,' she thought dryly, following him past the secretary's cubicles and down a corridor. She could tell Destler's office a mile away as even the door was imposing – large and wooden. It was shut, but the man knocked. Hell, even he was shaking slightly. Christine had the feeling that working with the man on a daily basis eventually led to a nervous breakdown.

"What?"

"A Miss Day, sir. Your eleven o'clock appointment."

There was a silence in which Christine swore she could have heard an annoyed sigh. She was rather indignant at that – he had been the one to set up the appointment, not her!

"Let her in." She did slowly, but just as she was fully inside the door was shut behind her. The office was gorgeous. Whoever had decorated it should have been proud of themselves. The walls were painted in rich tones, and despite the fact that the office itself was smaller than she assumed, it was no less imposing. The first half of the room was dedicated to a more comfortable setting, including a sofa, some chairs and a table. They looked as if they had never been used. The further wall from the door was dedicated to his desk, while one of the parallel walls was entirely made of glass. It provided much of the light, and a rather lovely view of the park across the street.

"Are you going to stand there gawking and waste my time, Miss Day?"

That brought her back to reality very quickly. Destler had been lost in the sheer elegance of the room, but when he demanded attention he received it. The man indeed wore a mask over one side of his face. His eyes glittered at her – there was no warmth there whatsoever. His clothes were formal – an expensive looking suit in black with a red tie. Destler was business, he exuded power. And, although Christine would never admit it publicly, rather handsome despite all that. "Mr. Destler. You said you wanted someone to update the logo and image of your business. I am here to help you do so."

"You're very young," he said bluntly, looking up at her. "You can be more than twenty. How old are you?"

"Twenty-two, sir." She replied, walking closer to his desk. She had to fight hard to keep his demanding gaze.

"Twenty-two," he said slowly, "and you think you can help me?"

Despite the fact that this was a very powerful man, she couldn't help but narrow her eyes at the mocking tone in his voice. "Yes. I can."

He produced an outright smile at that. "Of course you can. Well, sit and give me your portfolio." When she didn't move he barked: "Quickly!"

She handed over her portfolio, somehow managing to successfully quell the shaking her arm while she did so. Taking one of the seats before his desk, she clenched her fists. She was not expecting outright praise for her work, knowing how harsh he could be, but there was always that little flame of hope that perhaps he would say something complimentary. However, he flicked through the pages in a matter of minutes, putting it back on the desk. Leaning back in his chair he fixed her with a non-descript look. "And what makes you qualified for this job?"

A frown appeared. This was not supposed to be a job interview – he had asked one of the best graphic designer companies to send their best to help him design his new logo. That directly implied that she already had the job. Apparently not. "I'd like to think my previous work speaks for me, actually, Mr. Destler."

"Oh, I'm sure you would," he said derisively, bringing an angry blush to her face. "However, while creating a new image of Elysian's Catering might be an achievement for you, I'm looking for something a little more…refined." That comment brought outrage to the forefront – Elysian's Catering had catered for Carlotta's Christmas party last year, an event that was still spoken about! But criticism was part of the business, even if she had never had anyone be so rude to her before.

"And what is it that you are looking for, then, Mr. Destler?"

The smile was distorted. "Talent."

'Well, screw you, Destler.' There was a fine line between criticism that was helpful and outright rudeness. Destler had no simply walker over the line, he had set up camp on the other side. Christine stood up and yanked her portfolio off his desk. And while she desired to tell him that he could go to hell and back ('Thank you very much, you arrogant asshole') she knew she had to be professional. "I see, Mr. Destler. I won't take up any more of your…precious time. Good day."

"If that is how you take criticism, I fail to see how you've gotten anywhere in business, Miss. Day."

She stopped half-way to the door at that comment and turned around to face the man who had a smug smile on his face. "And with manners like yours, Mr. Destler, I now understand why no-one wants to work with you."

'Holy shit,' was her first thought, 'why on earth did I say that?' But it morphed into righteous anger – the man was an arrogant pig! Besides, he had obviously decided that he did not want her to be the one designing his new logo the moment she walked in. What did it matter what she said to him now?

His face darkened and her righteous anger dimmed considerably. Perhaps it was best if she just left and never came back. "Did I insult you?" he asked softly, but she could hear the anger underneath it. "I'm terribly sorry, perhaps I should have asked you in for cookies and milk." She attempted to stop her legs from shaking, but wasn't successful. "Perhaps I should have plied you with compliments about your amazing talent, let you believe that you are as fantastic as you think. Perhaps I should have treated you with false kindness."

"Perhaps you should have treated me like a human being, Mr. Destler," she retorted. Inwardly a voice was demanding that she shut her mouth right now, but a stubborn streak firmly told her common sense that it was not required at this point in time, "and not as if I were some bug below your imminent grace and highness."

Destler stood and walked over to the window. "There are more than a billion people out there, Miss Day and I can safely say that I do not respect ninety-five percent of them. Respect is something you earn – not something that is merely given away like candy."

"I didn't say respect. I just said that I deserved to be treated as you would want to be treated. " she stopped at that, Destler didn't seem the type to want to be treated as the rest of society. "Alright, how any human would be desired to be treated. Yes, you're rich and powerful but that doesn't mean – "

"I have heard this from a dozen people in far more eloquent ways than you have tried to express, Miss Day." He interrupted, not looking away from the glass. Stopping her desire to huff, she merely rolled her eyes and made her way to the door. "Leaving already?" he mocked. "Your predecessor lasted at least half an hour."

"Oh no, sir," she said mockingly, the door handle in her grasp. "You've won. Congratulations! Please, enjoy your victory – " she glanced around the room in an exaggerated manner, "alone."

The look he shot her probably would have killed her had his eyes been laser beams. But she was already gone at that point, slamming the door behind her. He was left alone by the window.

Please review. I have miniature e-Eriks and e-cookies for all who do.

You know you're tempted.