The car ride stretched on to infinity. The adrenaline that had been keeping her going evaporated into the air. The fear and stress simply melted into the seat and her eyes drifted closed. Tasks swam in front of her eyes. Marie and Sara would have to be called. They would need to know that their father was in the hospital. The shop would need to be cared for. She slipped into sleep with the desperate prayer that Gustave would make it through surgery.

A bump in the road woke Christine. Nadir looked over sympathetically. "Sorry," he mumbled. "It was good that you got some rest. We are almost there."

The roads that Nadir turned onto seemed to be getting gradually smaller and smaller, from a country highway to a gravel road to mere weedy tracks deeper and deeper into the forest. Christine silently looked out the window at the dense trees, her mind numb. What have I gotten myself into?

All of the sudden, the trees cleared away and a lone white house setting up on a cliff came into view. Christine's eyes widened at the beauty of it. A long balcony wrapped itself around the house, sheltering a heavy red door with an intricate golden knocker. Black shutters embraced each of the windows, shielding the interior from view. Nadir pulled the car up and parked on a small patch of gravel.

Her heart beat faster and faster with the sound of Nadir pulling the keys from the ignition and opening the door. He walked around the front of the car and opened up her door. She jumped a little at the sound. Grasping her purse she stepped out of the car. Gravel shifted under her feet. What am I doing?

She looked around quickly. There was no way out of this. She had done this for Gustave and there was no going back now. She bit her lip and started towards the house. Nadir lead her towards the front door. As if by a delicate thread, she bobbed along behind Nadir.

Nadir knocked on the door three times and it swung open seemingly of its own accord. The cold salty air outside gave way to warm air sweet with incense.

An old woman stood at the door and smiled warmly. "Welcome back, Mr. Khan." She grasped his hand and hugged him.

"And... a guest?" She looked past Christine.

"Ahem. Yes. This is his new wife, Christine. Christine, this is Mme. Giry, the housekeeper."

"It's so nice to meet you Christine." She reached out her hand and grasped Christine's, engulfing Christine's hands in her own. Christine smiled. "You'll have to forgive me. I can't see that well."

Christine's eyes widened. "I'm so-"

"Oh hush. It's nothing to be sorry about. I'm an old woman."

Christine paused. "Then, it's nice to meet you."

"You too, dear. Let me show you to your room while Nadir washes up for dinner. Come, dear." Mme. Giry led her up a set of stair and then down a hallway lined with paintings obscure in the darkness. She stopped at a door at the end of the hallway and opened it.

"Here we are." She turned on the light, illuminating the master bedroom. A large four poster bed made up with crimson silk sheets dominated the room. The intricately carved dark wood drew Christine in; her fascination drew her hand to trace the curves of the post. Mme. Giry grasped Christine's hand.

"Come. Your bath is over here." She led Christine to a smaller door off to the side of the room. The door opened to a large bathroom. Christine's shoes clacked against the black marble floor. Luxury dripped out of every corner. "He made sure that everything is stocked up for you. Oh! Speaking of which... I must show you your closet. You'll have to pick something out of there for dinner. Here." She opened another door in the bedroom to reveal a walk-in closet.

"I shall leave you alone now. Dinner is at eight. You have about an hour to shower and get ready. Dress formally."

Mme. Giry smiled and left Christine alone, closing the door behind her.

Christine wandered back to the bed and laid back. The bed welcomed her sore muscles. Closing her eyes, her worries flooded back flashing behind her eyelids, but the store and her father were far away. She was helpless here. She'd have to figure out where exactly where here was to figure out how early to get up to get to the shop to open in the morning. She'd be able to visit Gustave during lunch. Yes, this will all work out.

With this new conviction, she got up and went to shower. She touched the cold glass and pulled it open. Leaving her clothes on the bench, she stepped in and stared at the lone shower-head. No knobs. She scrunched her eyebrows and thought for a second. She reached up and grabbed the shower-head and yelped in surprise when the warm water hit her. She looked up at it and saw a little number in the top. She shifted her hand to the left and the number went down as the water got colder. She swiped it to the right and the water heated up. So the number was the temperature. She nodded and rehung the shower-head on the wall, savoring the heat.

Christine found that the closet was stocked with only two dresses – a short summer dress with a delicate butterfly print and an ankle length plum dress with a delicate lace bolero. She grabbed the plum dress and the stockings and shoes that looked like they went with it and dressed quietly, looking down at her watch. She had about fifteen minutes to spare, so she decided that that was close enough to try and find the dining room.

Nervously, she walked back down the stairs. A finger of golden light beckoned to her. She followed it into a well-lit sitting room with four wing-back chairs circled around a dark coffee table. Nadir sat in one, holding a clear glass in one hand. He looked up at Christine and smiled.

"My dear! Come. Sit. Would you like an aperitif?" He stood up and motioned her into a similar chair.

"What is it?" Christine asked, eying the crystal decanter in the corner.

"I believe that it is a twenty year bourbon. Erik has the best taste in liquor."

"Erik?"

A brief look of panic crossed Nadir's face. "He's my employer. And your husband."

"And his – our last name?"

"I'm afraid I've already let too much slip. I'm sorry. He'll tell you himself soon enough, I'm sure."

"He'll be at dinner?"

"Of course. He tries to never miss one of Mme. Giry's dinners. She is a fabulous cook."

"But -"

"Yes. She's blind. Doesn't mean her taste buds are gone. She gets around very well for her... disability. Are you sure you don't want a drink?"

"No, but thank you for the offer."

A soft knock came from one of the doors. "Ah. That'll be Mme. Giry. You should head to the dining room. Follow me."

He set his glass down on the coffee table and pulled open a side door. "This way."

Christine stood and followed him cautiously back into the dark hallways. He opened a door into a simple dining room with a long wooden table. She could only see one chair as only the close end of the table was lit. The other end was impossible to discern in the darkness.

"You're not staying?"

"No. I'm afraid I must be headed home for the evening. He's waiting for you." Nadir bowed out.

"Please. Sit." A deep voice reached out of the dark end of the table.

"That color looks wonderful on you, Christine."

She blushed. "Thank you... Erik?"

A brief moment of tension filled the room. "Yes. I am Erik. Welcome to our house, dear."

"You'll have to excuse me, but where exactly are we? I fell asleep on the way here."

"We're about fifty miles south of the border... on the ocean as you've probably surmised."

The numbers started rolling through Christine's head.

"You are 86.4 miles away from the shop, as the crow flies." Erik said interrupting Christine's calculations.

"Thanks." She blushed.

Mme. Giry interrupted, bringing in tqo plates, setting one in front of Christine then one in front of Erik. Christine looked down to see a small cup of a thick yellow soup.

"Butternut squash soup with pumpkin seeds." She bowed and left the three alone again.

"You must be worried about your father," Erik continued. "He is safely out of surgery. I will take care of everything. You shouldn't worry. An associate of mine is with him. He should be out of the hospital tomorrow. My employee will stay with him. He should rest for at least a month."

Christine looked down at her soup. "Thank you."

"It is no problem, Christine."

"Still, thank you."

"Anything you want. All you need to do is ask."

"Could I get a ride into town tomorrow? The shop..."

"I'll have it taken care of. Nadir here has instructions to find a new worker to take care of the shop while your father is resting. You don't need to do anything."

Christine blushed again. "Thank you."

"No problem. Now eat your soup. Mme. Giry will be terribly offended if you don't even try it."

Christine dipped her spoon in and took a bite. The sweet nuttiness exploded on her tongue. "It's delicious!"

"Yes. Mme. Giry had trained to be a professional chef at one point in her life."

"Well, compliments to the chef then."

"Thank you, dear." Mme. Giry had snuck back in collecting the soup dishes and replacing them with an entree. "New York strip steak with a fennel sauce."

Christine dug in, delighted that the dish was just as delicious as the soup.

"So we are married then?" Christine asked, the whole thing not feeling quite real yet.

"Yes."

"I have to ask about your... expectations?" The meat went sour in her mouth.

"I understand that our passion is not yet mutual. Whatever we do is up to you. I would only ask that you permit me to sleep by your side."

Christine's face glowed bright red. "I think I can agree to that. Thank you."

"I may have forced you into marriage, but that is as far as I intend to force you to do anything," he murmured softly.

Christine carved off another piece of her steak, not sure what to say next.

"I suppose... I have another request. Please do not attempt to see my face. It would cause us both pain."

Christine's eyebrows furrowed, but she nodded her acceptance. His identity must be very important to keep secret for him to go to these lengths, she thought.

"So, you sing?" Erik commented pulling the conversation back to lighter topics.

"Not very well. Just good enough for weeknights at the bar," Christine answered modestly.

Mme. Giry set a dessert in front of them. "Pear poached in a white wine sauce."

"After this I'll have to show you the music room. "

"Music room? Why?"

"To start your music lessons, of course."

-((0))

Sorry for the awkward ending to the chapter. I couldn't find a good place to break it. Oh, well.

Sorry the chapter's a bit late. It took me longer than I thought it would to write it. Thanks for all your support.

Raven Sharpe