We'll Always Have Venice
Chapter 2
Be ready by eight-thirty.
Erik's words echoed in Christine's mind as she applied her makeup. He had not told her what to wear or where they were going; he simply had said to be ready and waiting for him in the foyer of her hotel. She was trying to figure out if she would have to wear a formal dress or period costume – which she did not have. She was still wearing her black and gold mask. Tomorrow, she would insist that Erik take her mask shopping…and underwear shopping.
A few nights ago, instead of going out to dinner Erik and Christine had decided to stay in for the night. In his haste to render her naked, Erik had ripped her underwear. Underwear shopping – inexpensive ones at that – just in case he ripped them again – was definitely on the list.
Just as she was applying her lipstick, a soft rap on the door stilled her hand. Confused, she opened the door and found a staff member holding a large box out to her. Accepting it, Christine pulled the lid from the box as she wandered back into the room. Under the tissue paper was a green and silver mask, which Christine raised to her face, noting with surprise that the green was the same colour as her eyes. She placed the mask on the bed and then turned her attention to the rest of the contents of the box. She pulled a late eighteenth century dress from the box and gasped as she ran her fingers over the fine silk of the dress.
Even without a note, she knew the gift was from Erik. She quickly pulled on the dress and mask, taking a moment to admire her reflection, amazed at the way the dress emphasised her breasts, before rushing downstairs.
As he had promised, Erik was waiting for her in the foyer of the hotel, dressed in breeches and coat in a matching dark green. Even without seeing his face, she would know his eyes and his tall build anywhere. Tonight, Erik was wearing a mask that covered only the upper-half of his handsome face.
She smiled in delight as she neared him and then ran into his arms. She laughed in delight as he caught her, spinning her to keep his balance as he tried to negotiate the panier that flared at her hips and kissing her as he lifted her to his lips.
"You didn't leave me a note," she whispered, disappointment lacing her voice as Erik lowered her to the floor. She kept her hands linked about his neck, refusing to allow him to release her.
"How could I write of my love for you when I can whisper it to you forever?" Erik tried to step back from her. Instead, Christine smiled softly, stood on her toes to grip Erik's shoulders to pull him down to her height so that she could kiss him again. "Now, my lady, we need to be on our way."
With a smile, Christine wrapped her arm through his and allowed Erik to lead her out through the water door to a waiting gondola. Tourist attractions such as gondolas had long since lost their excitement for Erik. However, he had decided to spoil Christine and show her an unforgettable time in Venice. With Christine at his side, he was beginning to appreciate the things that he had long forgotten to enjoy.
"Where are we going, Erik?" she asked as the gondolier pushed off from the edge and down the canal.
"We are going to one of the grandest events of the Carnivale. Tonight we will-" he paused in order to kiss her as they passed under a bridge.
The gondolier chuckled at their behaviour. He was well used to couples kissing whenever they punted under a bridge. It was said that for a couple to experience eternal love they needed to kiss under every bridge. Judging by the way the couple could not stop themselves from kissing, they would definitely have eternal love!
"Tonight, we will have cocktails and a formal dinner before sitting down to an opera."
"You know I can't understand much Italian, Erik," Christine reminded him, frustrated at her lack of lingual ability. She was going to complain further but had to stop to give Erik another quick kiss.
"If need be, I will happily translate for you," he whispered in her ear before dropping a kiss on the sensitive skin behind her ear. "After the opera we will dance until dawn."
Hours later, as the song of birds was breaking the silence of the morning well before the sunrise, Christine and Erik collapsed exhausted into their seats. After removing her mask, Christine dropped a few drops of solution into her eyes; she had been wearing her contact lenses far longer than she expected and her eyes were sore and dry. Erik looked on intrigued as Christine added the solution and then replaced her mask. Many of the guests had already gone home, unable to cope with the unusual expectation that they stay awake all night dancing.
"I have never had such a wonderful night, Erik," Christine sighed before she gave him a slow kiss. "Thank you for doing this for me."
Erik smiled, pleased that he had decided to wear a half-mask. If he had worn a full mask, he was fairly certain that Christine would not have given him quite so many kisses. He cupped her cheeks, his hands covering her entire face as he returned her kiss.
"Let's go back to your hotel room and have breakfast in bed," Christine suggested breathily. "Just make sure you don't rip my underwear again; I liked the ones you ruined the other day."
Erik raised a provocative eyebrow at her. "But I can rip others?"
Christine pressed her lips together as she blushed. "I'll let you know if you can." She grabbed his hand and stood. "Come on, let's go home."
Erik held out the chair for Christine, settling her at the table of a fine restaurant. He pressed a kiss to her jaw as he pushed in her chair before taking his seat. Christine looked around surreptitiously after the waiter had left with their drink order. She could not remember being in a restaurant as fine as this one.
Christine watched Erik as he glanced disinterestedly at the menu, his eyes squinted. She could not read anything and so placed the menu down. Erik closed the menu with a sharp snap and set it down on the table.
"What would you suggest?" Erik asked as the waiter reappeared at their table with their drinks. The waiter responded very quickly in Italian, too fast for Christine to understand a single word. Erik nodded and then turned to Christine before ordering the waiter's recommendations.
The waiter nodded and then left.
Christine smiled at Erik, feeling as if she were caught in a bygone time where it was normal for the man to order for the lady. Her smile broadened when Erik covered her hand with his before raising it to his lips.
"Stop it!" Christine squealed as she tried to push Erik away. He had started at her lips and had kissed his way down to her thighs and was now retracing his earlier path. Aware that she was extremely ticklish at her waist, he deliberately paid that part of her body a lot of attention, delighting in the way she would writhe, giggle and scream under his body. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled his lips up to hers. She giggled as he stroked her waist with his fingertips.
"Erik," Christine said on a sigh a little later as she tilted her head back to look into Erik's dark blue eyes, "You know I only have one more day left here in Venice, right?" She grabbed his hand from the top of her left thigh and raised it to her lips. Her earlier happy mood faded as she forced herself to face reality. She shifted so that she could rest her head against Erik's chest as he twined a dark curl around his finger, her breathing in sync with his.
Erik simply nodded. She had been reminding him daily that their time together was quickly running out. Last night they had watched the closing fireworks of the carnival, Erik with his arms wrapped possessively around Christine's waist, a sense of darkness ruining their peace. Although they hadn't spoken of it, they were both aware that time was running out and the fairytale would be at an end.
The past two weeks with Christine had been beyond Erik's imaginings. With the anonymity of the Carnivale, he was able to focus entirely on Christine and not worry about being the freak with a mask. Never in his life had he thought a woman such as Christine, the little journalist from London, would be able to look past the mask and see that it hid a man.
"I go on to Prague the day after tomorrow, Erik," she whispered, willing the tears not to fall from her eyes.
She had promised herself that she would not have anything to do with men on her holiday. She certainly never intended falling in love with Erik. Together, under the safety of their masks, Erik and Christine had explored all the tourist sites and enjoyed many of the soirees of the carnival. Erik had also taken great delight in showing Christine some of the smaller, less known shops and restaurants.
"I know, Christine," he murmured against her hair in his French accent that still delighted her.
Feeling disappointed by his response, Christine stared at the painting on the far side of the room, refusing to be swayed by his gentle touch. She pushed out of his arms and searched the room for her clothes.
Erik watched her sudden shift in mood in confusion. In the past two weeks, he had experienced quite a few of Christine's moods and he had finally grown tired of them. He sighed and began to get dressed.
She went into the bathroom to pull on her clothes and fix her hair and looked expectantly at Erik.
"I think I'll go back to my hotel now, Erik."
He nodded as he continued to button his shirt.
Christine stepped around the bed and gave him a quick kiss, which to her heartache, he did not return. She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes filling with tears as she headed for the doors.
"Cancel your plans. Stay with me here," Erik said suddenly as he stalked towards the door. "Don't leave me." He ripped her hand from the doorknob, spun her around and pressed her between the door and his body. "Don't go, Christine."
Looking up at him in surprise, Christine simply nodded and twined her fingers in his hair before she stood on her toes to kiss him.
"Now, what are your plans for today?" Erik asked, handing Christine a cup of tea in bed. He placed his cup of coffee on the table beside the bed and then climbed back in beside her. He handed the newspaper to Christine and watched her attempt to read the front page, a smile curling up the corners of his mouth.
With a deep sigh, Christine moulded herself against Erik's side, careful not to spill her tea. She kissed his neck. "I would like to stay here with you today. I don't think I have the energy to move from this spot."
Erik gave a shy, slow grin and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Resisting the urge to chastise her laziness, Erik simply said, "Well then, if that's what you want, then we'll spend the entire day in bed."
Christine laughed and pulled off her glasses before resting her head on Erik's shoulder as she sipped her morning cup of tea. She traced lazy circles on his chest as they spoke softly. "What is that article about, Erik?" she asked, pointing vaguely to the paper at the foot of the bed.
Erik picked up the paper, squinted at the typing and shrugged. "Why would we talk about the news when we can lie here and talk about more pleasant things?"
Christine smiled and kissed him again.
"Come home to Paris with me, Christine," Erik whispered intensely as he shifted his weight to cover her body with his own as he looked down at her.
Smiling sadly, Christine reached up and tenderly stroked the masked side of his face. She whimpered sadly when he grabbed her hand and pulled it from his mask. Not to be deterred, she pressed a desperate kiss on his lips. "I wish I could, Erik. I would very happily live with you. But I have my job in London." She gave a sad chuckle. She had loved the time she spent in Paris and, if it were not for her job, she would very happily accept Erik's offer. "You've heard me speak French; I am terrible. I
wouldn't be able to survive!"
"You will learn French at my side in no time."
"Then teach me now, Erik," she begged huskily as she wrapped her arms and legs tightly around his body.
The handsome Venetian continued to stare at Christine even though Erik was standing at her side, refusing to leave her. He saw the way the man was looking at her intently, undressing her with his eyes. What infuriated him even further was that Christine saw the way the man looked at her and did nothing to show him that she was not interested.
Reluctantly, Erik left her alone at their table so that he could get drinks. It only took the other man a moment to move in on his territory. Christine followed Erik with her eyes only to have her attention pulled away when the man who had been watching her stepped in her line of sight. She gave him a half smile and then looked quickly away.
"Would you like to dance, baby?" he asked in Italian, gesturing to the dance floor where numerous other couples were dancing, their bodies pressed against each other.
Guessing his question, Christine shook her head. She had no idea what he had just asked her. It wouldn't matter what he had in mind for her, Erik would not be happy about it.
"Come on." He held his hand out to her.
"No."
"Please dance with me."
"No!"
Accepting her refusal with a great deal of reluctance, the Venetian left her alone. When Erik returned with two glasses and a bottle of champagne, Christine gave him a bright smile. The smile Erik gave her did not meet his eyes. He poured her a glass of champagne but said very little for the rest of the night.
Christine returned with a sullen Erik to his hotel room. She watched with something akin to horror as he shut the door behind him with a loud bang before repeating the action with the bathroom door. Unsure why he was so angry, Christine undressed, pulled the pins from her hair and waited for him to return to the bedroom. After ten minutes of waiting, she knocked forcefully on the door. It was immediately flung open, a red-faced Erik glaring down at her from his full height.
"Do you have a problem?" she demanded, spoiling for a fight.
Looking down his nose, Erik pushed past her, stalking into the bedroom.
Judging his silence to be agreement, Christine pressed on, her own anger rising even further at Erik's treatment of her. "Well, since I've obviously done something that you're peeved about, why don't you tell me it is?"
Erik turned around slowly to face Christine; unable to believe she had no idea what was going on. "I should have known you would prefer the Italians."
"What?"
"Yes," he pressed on, his indignation mounting. "Don't think that I didn't notice the way the two of you looked at each other. You waited until I had gone to get some drinks before inviting him over with those eyes of yours!"
"What! That's where you're wrong, Erik. He asked me to dance – well, I think he did – and I refused. I did absolutely nothing to encourage him. How could you even think I would encourage another man while I'm with you?" she demanded, unaware that the volume of her voice had risen with her anger. "I'm not interested in other men!"
"What normal woman wouldn't be seduced by an Italian, hmm? You say that you didn't encourage him, but you didn't do much to discourage him. When you are with me, I will not have other men looking at you, Christine! Or you looking at them!" he shouted at her.
"You don't own me, Erik; I don't belong to you or any man," she snapped, turning away from him.
"You're mine, Christine," Erik said with more fervour than he intended.
Christine threw him a quick look over her shoulder as she continued to the bathroom. She had no intention of acknowledging that with a response.
Frustrated by her anger and her lack of reaction, Erik stalked across the room in two long strides, grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, kissing her roughly. Christine stood immobile, refusing to allow his angry passion to ease the pain of his implied insults. With her hands trapped between their bodies she could not push him away. When Erik pulled away to look at her, wondering why she refused to kiss him, Christine freed her hands and gave his shoulders a violent shove. She folded her arms angrily over her breasts and tipped her head back to glare at him.
He looked at her anxiously as he waited for her to say something. The need to be reassured that he hadn't lost the woman of his dreams was too great to be ignored. He didn't want her to think he had no control of his temper, and he certainly didn't want to lose her to another man. He stepped away from her, unable to pull his eyes away from hers.
As if sensing that Erik needed her to comfort him, she attempted to ignore her own anger and talk to him. "For your information, I wanted nothing to do with that man. I I'm not interested in another man; I love you, Erik. You're the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with."
Reassured, Erik pulled Christine into his arms and simply held her for several long moments before his lips found hers and he buried his fingers in her hair at the base of her head. He pulled back without warning, looking at her slightly confused before retrieving a hairpin she had obviously missed when she took her hair down.
Christine laughed as Erik threw the pin over his shoulder and pushed him towards the bed.
Christine rolled onto her side and gazed at Erik as he slept on. She smiled. Erik was in his usual position of lying on his back with his right arm thrown over his head and his left arm resting on the cushion on his stomach.
She burrowed closer to his body and rested her head on his shoulder. Ever the light sleeper, Erik woke when he felt Christine shift beside him. His eyes blinked open as his right arm instinctively wrapped around her shoulders. He kissed her head and went back to sleep.
Hours later, Christine tried to slip out of bed but Erik wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his body, preventing her from leaving. He kissed down her neck, seducing her to stay with him a little longer.
Erik watched as Christine ran naked through the bedroom in search of the dressing gown she had been wearing before they went to bed. Disappointed, he watched her tie the sash tightly around her waist, hiding her breasts from his view.
It had been eight weeks since he had first met Christine at the Carnivale in her black and gold mask. He never imagined that the quiet little brunette he met had such a passionate nature hidden beneath the exterior.
Christine sidled over to the bed and lay on top of Erik. "I'm going to have a shower. Come with me." She grabbed his hand and pulled him from the bed, heading for the bathroom.
Once the water was heated, she dropped her robe and stepped into the shower, waiting for Erik to join her. She cocked her head in confusion when he continued to stand just outside the shower, looking at her with indecision.
"Come on, Erik."
Finally surrendering, Erik stepped into the shower, his arms wrapping around Christine's body before snatching the soap from her hands.
"Erik, you don't intend to shower in your mask, do you? Take it off."
Since she had met him at the Carnivale, Christine had never seen Erik without his mask. In the first two weeks, she had thought nothing of it; she believed that he was just taking the whole Carnivale thing very seriously. However as the time went on, she began to wonder why he did not want to show her what was under that plain piece of leather.
One day she had touched his mask, and with lightning fast reflexes, Erik had grabbed her hand, preventing her from removing the mask. That was the last time she had touched his mask without asking him first. When they were making love, if she ever touched his mask, he would gently grasp her hand, kiss her fingers and place her hand on another part of his body. Out of bed however, was another matter. When his mind was not concerned with ensuring her pleasure, should her hand go anywhere near his mask, Erik was quick to stop her and never quite as tenderly as he would when they were in bed…or anywhere else in the hotel room.
"I will not remove my mask, Christine." He rinsed the soap from his hands as he looked at her with furious blue eyes.
"Why not?"
Erik growled, pushed the door of the shower so hard that the glass shattered and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He turned his back on Christine; unable to look at the woman who had, in his mind, just betrayed him. He caught his reflection in the mirror and threw the rubbish bin into it. The last thing he wanted to see was his hated mask staring back at him.
He was so furious with her that he did not care that she no longer saw the man that was not entirely he. He could no longer pretend that he was the master of seduction that he pretended to be. By ordering him to remove his mask, she had stripped him bare. She had taken away the only thing that ever gave him any comfort.
"Erik?"
"Damn you, Christine. I thought I made it clear that you were never to touch my mask! You stupid female! Why? Why could you not have accepted my response when I said I did not want to remove my mask?" He took a break in his tirade to draw breath. "You tell me that you love me and yet you do this to me! Damn you, Christine!"
Terrified, Christine stepped past Erik, grabbing her robe as she went. Blinded by her tears, she tripped over the hem and fell, cutting her hands, knees and feet on the broken glass. Spinning around quickly, she watched a furious Erik stalk towards her, his face red and his hands clenched.
With a squeak, she pulled herself to her feet and ran to the wardrobe. She pulled her suitcase out and began bundling her clothes in, too distressed to fold them neatly. In less than ten minutes, she was dressed and packed and waiting at the door.
She turned around to say something to Erik – she still had not figured out what to say – and paused when she saw him hunched over on the floor, sobbing and cursing her. She gripped her suitcase tightly and pulled open the door.
It closed with a final snap behind her.
