A/N A humongous thank you to my betas, Mandy and Musique et Amour, for all of your support during a very trying week. Not to mention, for your help with this chapter. Y'all Rock!


Just as she feared, Meghan flew into her suite as soon as she got home. "Christine! How was your weekend? How did things go with you and Rafe? How did …"

Laughing, Christine put her hands up. "It was a nice weekend, Meghan. That's it … nothing happened. I just had a nice relaxing weekend with a very nice family."

Disappointed, Meghan bade Christine good night.


The firm's dinner dance was okay. The food was excellent, of course, but Christine did not have a date and stayed at her table most of the evening. Much to Meghan's amusement, she never once removed her jacket.

Erik debated about attending the dinner dance, but could see no real reason to. He knew his sudden appearance was going to surprise Christine, and he was quite looking forward to that. The Masquerade provided the perfect foil for him; wearing a mask to the dinner dance would not be so easily dismissed.

In the meantime, he played with her behind the scenes. She never knew when she would be called in to Alex's office, or told that she needed to work overtime, or given a different slant on her assignment. Erik watched with perverse pleasure as she twisted and turned to a tune she could not hear or follow.

Christine did not find out until Christmas Eve that she would have the week between the holidays off. Feeling a little guilty about it, she called Rafe, hoping it wasn't too late to accept his invitation. Anything was better than hanging around the empty house on the Battery. He jumped at the chance and promised he would pick her up in less than three hours. She made a quick trip to the mall to purchase a few gifts for Rafe and his family, then packed her suitcase for her week-long stay in Savannah.


Erik watched, dumbfounded, as Rafe loaded Christine's suitcase into his car. He could not believe his eyes; he was sure his machinations would have kept her in Charleston. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he did, indeed, have the upper hand and that very, very soon Christine would be doing his bidding.
Christmas with the Chamberlains was as elegant yet laid-back as the family, and Christine could not remember a more peaceful holiday. Going to bed Christmas night, she relaxed into a daydream, a fantasy of what life could be like if she were Mrs. Rafe Chamberlain. As she drifted into sleep, she could see Rafe's smirk. Confused, she mentally shook her head as the image of the fair-haired man dissolved into the dark, difficult man who haunted her sleep. Unable to fight it, she allowed the fantasy to play in her mind.

Christmas with Erik would be exciting as they gave each other the gifts of themselves. Suddenly annoyed, Christine roused herself. Pulling on her robe, she padded to the kitchen to brew a cup of tea.

In his bedroom, Rafe heard Christine's movements and silently followed her into the kitchen. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

Christine bit her tongue on the sarcastic remark, and calmly answered, "No, so I thought I'd have a cup of tea." Suddenly uncertain, she added, "It's alright, isn't it?"

Rafe laughed and hugged her. "Of course it's all right," he assured her. "I am glad that you feel comfortable enough here to make yourself at home," he added as he squeezed her affectionately.

Christine was relieved to her the whistle of the tea kettle, and she pulled away.

They sat at the kitchen table and drank their tea. Rafe was enjoying this ordinary interlude with Christine; and she tried her best to be decent company.

The Chamberlains had invited her to the Christmas Ball at their Club, so the day after Christmas found Christine and Alicia at Oglethorpe Mall. "If you can't find a dress here, Christine, we can try Savannah Mall next. Plus, there are some neat boutiques …"

Smiling, Christine assured Alicia that she was certain she could find a dress at Oglethorpe. Am I the only woman in America who detests shopping? she wondered silently. At least Meghan and Alicia don't know each other! She cringed as she imagined the nightmare that would be!

It did not take long for Christine to find the perfect dress. The black silk slip dress skimmed her ankles; she impulsively picked up a pair of silver strappy sandals and a silver lame pocketbook. Alicia found a black shawl shot with silver threads, and Christine breathed a sigh of relief as they left the mall.

The three women had afternoon appointments at the spa, so Christine and Alicia met Mrs. Chamberlain there. Christine had to admit the pedicure was heavenly. The stylist talked Christine into trying a new hairstyle, and Christine's updo was "oohed" and "ahhed" over by all of the women who saw her.


Rafe was waiting in the living room for Christine, and she took his breath away. Blushing, she smiled shyly at him, then turned so that he could assist her with her shawl. "I am suddenly glad that we are driving separately from the folks" he murmured in her ear.

By the end of the evening, Christine's face ached from smiling. She danced nearly every dance with Rafe, and realized by the end of the evening that he was hoping their friendship would evolve into something more. He did not pressure her, however, and the remainder of the week was spent pleasantly. After much deliberation, she mentioned the Masquerade Party to Rafe, and he jumped at the chance to be her escort. One more thing to feel guilty about, she thought ruefully.

Rafe carried her bags into the house on the Battery. Kissing her good-bye, promising that he would be back at 6:45. She watched Rafe leave, and then began getting ready for the New Year's Eve Masquerade Party. She was still uncertain about her dress, but was relieved that Rafe would be escorting her.

Her mask was the same ivory as her dress, decorated with ivory pearls and accented with clear rhinestones. Her entire outfit was quite understated, but Christine still feared it gave the wrong impression.


RS&A had rented one of the area antebellum mansions for the masquerade party, and Christine felt transported back in time as the valet opened the car door for her. She and Rafe walked up the staircase in the grand entryway; the lights were dimmed and all of the trees were sparkling with tiny holiday lights. The gala began in the hall, with tables of hot hors'deurves lining the walls. Waiters walked amongst the guests with trays of cold hors'deurves and drinks. The guests mingled, flirting shamelessly with one another, all hidden behind their masks.

At 8:00, the doors to the dining room opened, and the guests found their tables. Course after course of delicious food was served. The bread basket and water goblets were kept refreshed as the guests enjoyed their dinner salads and shrimp cocktail. The main course, filet mignon Rossini ... a filet mignon with grilled Sonoma foie gras on a scalloped potato crouton, black truffle cabernet sauce and frilled asparagus spears, was followed by a dessert trio of pot de crème served with petite fours. The orchestra played softly in the background as the guests enjoyed their sumptuous banquet, and Christine truly felt as if she had died and gone to heaven.

Once the after dinner coffee was served and the tables were cleared, the orchestra changed to a waltz, signaling the beginning of the dance. From the first notes, Christine was never without a partner. When she danced with someone other than Rafe, she found it amazingly easy to flirt outrageously, safe in her anonymity. That changed, however, midway through the evening.

Although she did not recognize him – odd, seeing she only knew him with a mask – her body knew instantly when she found herself in Erik's arms. She gasped in spite of herself, shocked. Erik! What are you doing here?, she almost found herself crying out but Erik's firm grip on her kept her moving and kept her silent.

He was suddenly quite pleased with himself. Soon she'll know just whose tune she is dancing to, he thought. Yes, this should make for a very interesting ... interlude. A few weeks of this, then I can be done with her. After all, the joke will wear thin, eventually.

Looking up at him, Christine saw the smirk which haunted her dreams. After a very long dance, during which Erik held her a proper distance from his body, he steered her to a private drawing room and closed the doors. Before she could protest, he ripped her mask out of her hand and pushed her against the wall. As shocked as she was, she could not help but feel a very familiar tug of want deep within. Anger, disgust, and desire warred within her, and he impassively watched the emotions chase each other across her face. As she started to close her eyes, he hissed, "Look at me, Christine!"

Much to her dismay, her eyes instantly obeyed him. His smirk returned as he saw the desire flare in her eyes and try as she might to tamper it down, she could neither hide the desire in her eyes nor muffle the moan that escaped her lips when he rocked his hips against her. As he pressed his advantage, her arms snaked around his neck, seemingly of their own volition. Lifting up on her toes, she urged his head down to hers as she wound her hands through his hair. He could not deny her, and his mouth claimed hers as his hands pulled her closer to him.

Their mouths tasted, explored, and worshiped each other's, and Christine whimpered when Erik drew back. His mouth continued his exploration though, and she clung to him for dear life. "Erik, please," she begged, tugging his head ... trying to reclaim his mouth. He dropped feathery kisses on her lips, then teased her as his tongue traced first her top, then bottom lip. Christine arched her back, and he pulled her hips closer still. Feeling his arousal against her belly, Christine writhed in his arms. When she thought she could take no more, but die if he should stop, he did.

"Listen to me, and listen well," he rasped. "You are at RS&A at my pleasure, and if it should so please me, you will be fired."

Shocked at the sudden change in him, Christine felt tears spring to her eyes. He thinks you a whore, Christine ... and you prove him right every chance you get. Anger at him and disgust at herself paired to strengthen her resolve, and Christine met his gaze clear-eyed.

"I don't understand. What does RS&A have to do with ... us?"

Erik took perverse pleasure in enlightening her. "I own RS&A, Christine. You work for me. You are living in a house that I own. Your very presence in Charleston is contingent upon what I want." He watched her carefully; her face was an open book. As she realized the total control he had over her, shock was replaced by horror, then disgust.

Composing herself, Christine retorted, "And just what is your pleasure, Sir? This, by any chance?" she added with a sneer. With that, she rocked against his hips. Caught by surprise, he could not hide his groaned reaction. Once he realized what she had done, he grasped her hips and pushed her against the wall, away from his body. He refused to acknowledge the sudden feeling of loss, but instead answered her question.

"My pleasure is that you sing," he stated. "You are in need of a vocal teacher, and so I will teach you. Your debut will be at the Spoleto Festival here in Charleston in June."

Dismayed, Christine merely stared at him.

"What's wrong, my dear? Did you really think I'd be satisfied with your whoring?" he spat.

"You are the most hateful, despicable man I have ever known," Christine bit out. "I will NOT consent to do anything you want."

At this, Erik released her and turned away. "Very well. You have until tomorrow evening to remove yourself and your belongings from the RS&A house. Your internship officially ends at the closing of this evening. I will let John Campbell know; I am sure he will regret having to tell Clemson that you've failed to complete your internship Y" he said coldly as he strode across the room.

Not wanting to examine his feelings too carefully, he relented and turned back to her as he reached the door. "Think very carefully, my dear, before you reject my proposition," he urged.

Christine could not stop the hated blush from staining her cheeks, and it was with great effort that she did not fly at him, fists flailing. Instead, she thought over what he said, and as the reality of his threat sunk in, she sank against the wall, defeated.

"Very well, I will do as you say. After all, what choice do I have?" She said, disgusted.

"None," he agreed. "Well, since that is settled, shall we rejoin the others, my dear?" Holding her mask, Erik opened the door and bowed with a flourish. Passing through the door, Christine reclaimed her mask and swept out of the room as if she owned the place. Erik could not help but feel a grudging respect for how well she accepted the inevitable.

Although it annoyed him, Erik realized that he could not keep his eyes off of Christine. He could not believe she was constantly in some other man's arms! He had finally seen enough, and reclaimed her. Christine glared at him as he pulled her into his arms, but her treacherous body would not obey her. Had she been able to think, she would have appreciated the effort he took to keep their bodies a respectable distance apart. But all she really was aware of was a molten core deep inside of her, spreading its fire throughout her body, until she was aching with desire for him. Watching her, Erik felt his body respond in kind, and he once again led her to the quiet drawing room. Leading her inside, he carefully locked the door before pulling her back into his arms.

All restraint was gone; they pushed furiously at each other's clothes. Christine's dress and panties were easily disposed of; Erik did not think he would ever be free of the many layers he wore. Finally, they were both lying on the floor, arms and legs entwined as they kissed each other hungrily. Erik settled between her thighs and took her in one quick motion. Christine spiraled out of control as her orgasm shot waves of pleasure throughout her body. Erik swallowed her moans and tried to stay his release, but her body pulsing around him pushed him over the edge.

Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms, panting. Christine felt the heat rise in her cheeks as Erik gazed at her, but for once, nothing hateful nor hurtful passed his lips. He kissed her once more, almost gently, like a lover's kiss. The pang of longing that shot through her took her breath away. In response, Christine hardened her thoughts and pushing him away, she rose to get dressed.

Stung by her rejection, Erik reacted harshly. "Yes, my dear, we must be quick. Twould be a pity if anyone noticed we were missing, or perhaps, watched us come into this room together."

Christine bit back a quick retort and blinked away the sudden tears. Without a second glance at Erik, she picked up her mask, unlocked the door, and returned to the dance floor. Erik did have the presence of mind to jump up and lock the door behind her so that he could get dressed undisturbed. When he was finally dressed, he strode through the ballroom and ordered his car.

Watching him leave, Christine felt suddenly bereft. She did not know why, but she had to fight the urge to run after him, to pull him into his arms and beg his forgiveness. At that thought, her spine stiffened. That will be the day! she sneered. Turning to Rafe, she pressed up against him. Rafe looked at her in surprise, then led her back to the dance floor.

Waiting for his car, Erik glanced back at the dance floor. Scowling, he watched as Rafe gathered Christine in his arms. He could not help but smirk as he thought of the last time he had held Christine. Enjoy your little dances, boy. She belongs to me!

In spite of being disappointed that the evening did not end with Christine in his arms, Erik knew he should be quite pleased with how the evening turned out. After all, he would have many, many more opportunities to sate his hunger for her in the coming weeks. And by the time of her debut at the Spoleto Festival, he would have tired of her. He returned to his house secure in the knowledge that he would leave Charleston and Christine in June, and miss neither one.


Rafe said a long good-bye to Christine; he was returning to Tulane the next day. As he kissed her, Christine could not help but think of another man's kisses. It just isn't fair! she thought to herself. Rafe should be the man I respond to, not ... Erik! Rafe is a kind, decent man ... he would never call me a whore! Christine finally broke their embrace, uncomfortably aware that her every thought during Rafe's kisses was on Erik. Saying good-night, she walked into her house.

Christine tossed and turned the entire night. You are as bad as he is! she berated herself. You know he thinks you're a whore, and you prove him right every chance you get. And now, this! This ... proposition ... of his, which you accepted. Have you no pride? You should have told him to take his vocal lessons and his internship and shove them as far as they'll go.

Jumping out of bed, she began to pack. I can't do this, she thought despairingly. I can't let him dictate to me ... my career as an architect should not rest on my ... pleasing! ... him. Just as she resolved to renege on her agreement, heat flooded her body as the memory of their pleasure coursed through her. Crumpling, she lay on the floor as she remembered their encounter earlier that evening. Face it, Christine she told herself, he did not force you. You were as eager for him as he was for you. You didn't want him to stop earlier, and you certainly could not get undressed fast enough!

She was not sure what time it was when she finally crawled back into bed; her troubled dreams of a dark, difficult man kept her tossing and turning the rest of the night.


New Year's Day passed quietly. Thankfully, the other interns were all suffering from hangovers, so no one looked too closely at Christine. Christine's only resolution was to make it through her vocal lessons and the Spoleto Festival. Perhaps then I will be free of him she mused. She could almost ignore the taunting voice: But you want him still.