Christine swallowed thickly and hoped Erik wouldn't notice that her eyes were still slightly swollen from the night before. A cooling mask had helped, though not by much. She had gone home to cry after dinner with Erik; Christine still didn't know how she had managed to finish her meal and make pleasant company and smile and laugh when inside she'd been a raging storm of emotion.
She'd been angry, jealous, deeply resentful, guilty and confused- truly, she was more confused than anything else, she didn't understand her feelings for Erik, and more than that she was terrified that her heart was leading her right into another disaster. She had spent the night arguing with herself, speculating on all possibilities, chasing all scenarios.
Still, Christine knew that she could not back out of a commitment simply because of her own confusion. Her friend deserved better than that from her; Erik had no idea of her feelings, it was not his fault that she felt the way she did. Erik was only ready to settle down and start a family, and thanks to her late father, he beleived that he needed her help to do it.
Bizarre thoughts had chased each other in the dark as she'd cried and then tried to sleep, but ultimately, Christine knew that she could not refuse to help her old friend; her renewing infatuation was not worth the man's future.
So here she sat, once more, ready to interview this enigmatic man she'd thought she'd known so well, in the hopes of gaining an insight into the qualities that he was looking for in a wife.
No sex questions this time, Christine reminded herself. She'd been upset the night before, but she did find herself in brightening spirits that morning. She knew that Erik wouldn't be taken from her again so soon, and she had time spent alone with him in France to look forward to as well; wouldn't it be wise to make the most of the time she had alone with him while she could?
Besides, a wise man once said that knowledge was power...subconsciously, Christine knew that it could very well be to her advantage to know Erik's preferences in women, for better or worse.
She took out her stenopad and looked up at him. "All right, are you ready?"
Erik nodded from across the coffee table, once more seated at the sofa while she was on the chaise lounge. "Yes. Where should I start?"
Christine shrugged. "Likes, dislikes. Is there a...um, a specific type of woman that you find yourself drawn to?"
Erik glanced down at his hands, folding them in his lap. "I don't have a select type, no. More often than not, when a woman would strike me, it was something about her that was unique that would catch my attention. Sometimes it was a small detail that drew me- keen eyes, an adornment, a scent...the scent you wore on your first night here with me was very pleasing. It stayed on the pillows and sheets."
Christine felt bold heat creep into her cheeks. She had been hoping for Erik to make a remark outside of the perfunctory 'you look nice', but to find that she had pleased him in such an intimate way was more than flattering. Christine wondered if Erik was pleased by more than just her perfume.
Erik was watching her intently, wondering her reaction to his admission. He watched closely as she scribbled something on her notepad and then moved on to another question. He hoped that he hadn't made her uncomfortable.
Christine cleared her throat. "All right, what sort of qualities are you looking for?"
Erik took a deep breath and wondered how best to word his answers. He feared a repeat of Christine's anger from the night before, but how could he explain his past experiences without delving into the details that had so upset her? Even as king, Erik had never been in a position to have his choice of women. For many of the Shaliman courtesans, his wealth had not been a strong enough enticement to overcome their intimidation over his mask. Erik could not blame them, he knew the image he presented to the outside world: cold, remote, powerful.
He'd preferred it that way for years, but now he faced a need for change. His life was taking a new turn; he was nearly free of Shalimar, and ready to begin the life he'd spent so many years dreaming of in Paris. His thoughts turned to the loft he kept there, the loft that he intended to become his family's home in the city.
Erik knew he was getting ahead of himself. Before he had a family, he needed to find a woman to become his wife. That would prove to be the most difficult task. He considered Christine's question and glanced down at his hands again. They were gloved, as always. He sighed slightly and wondered where he could find a woman that he could touch, skin to skin.
He looked up to Christine once more. She was looking at him expectantly. So beautiful she was, so bright and wonderful. He had missed her while she was gone, and he'd thought of her often in their time apart. She was the same girl he remembered so fondly, and yet she was also this young woman he now wanted in his life and in his bed. He didn't care that it was wrong to think of her in that way any longer, so long as he did not cross the line by acting on this new desire...
Erik glanced away from her eager eyes. He cleared his throat, feeling suddenly restrained in his dark suit. "The woman...I would prefer for her to be intelligent. Someone I could speak with about art, politics...I'd like her to be kind, civil and sophisticated. Accepting. There would be respect between us."
"What about love?"
Erik looked up. "What?"
Christine set her notes aside and leaned forward. "You speak only of kindness, civility and respect, but what about love, Erik?"
He stood from the sofa and moved across the room to look out the window. New York was below, hustling by with every reason and right to carry on, unknowingly being watched over by a masked king. Christine watched Erik, relying solely on his body language to determine his feelings.
The man stood tall, but there was a slight droop to his shoulders and his head bowed forward in resignation. He turned to her, "I will be content so long as she could love our children, Christine. Her civility to me, her respect and fidelity will be enough. Perhaps a friendship could come of our time together if I am fortunate, and I would hope for that, but I am also realistic." He said, motioning to his mask.
His frank delivery did nothing to ease this new ache in Christine's heart. That Erik would take a wife, knowing the woman did not love him, was testimony to the expectations he had formed for himself.
Does he think no woman could love him? Oh, Erik...
Christine felt the salt sting of tears in her eyes and she looked away from him, determined not to let Erik see her cry. She had cried over him the night before, and before that she had cried for him too many times to count. Hadn't she shed enough tears for him?
A hand closed over her shoulder. Erik sat down beside her on the lounge and turned her to face him. Carefully, he dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief. "Christine, come now. No tears. I think it would be wise for us to suspend these interview sessions, don't you? We haven't had much luck so far." Erik said, trying to lighten her mood.
Christine leaned forward and hugged him. Erik raised his brows behind the mask. Why does she cry, and then embrace me? I don't understand this girl. This beautiful woman...
Erik closed his eyes and let his arms wind around Christine's pleasingly slender waist. Her scent, the same scent he recalled from their first night together, rose to his senses. She was soft and very warm, lovely and desirable; she had come to him with no expectations, no condemnation in her eyes.
Alluring, so beautiful...
He stroked her hair, damning his gloves and longing to truly touch her. His hands remained on her waist as he pulled back to look into her face. "Do not cry, Christine."
She blinked rapidly to rid herself of tears. Her hand lifted and she touched his mask. "Erik, why can't you believe a woman could love you? Don't you want anything more in your life?"
Startled, he pushed her hand away from his mask and rose to stand over her. "Please, Christine! Do not speak to me of love. Not all of us were intended for that."
Erik was defensive, but not angry with her for questioning his judgement. She is beautiful, she cannot understand...
Christine lowered her head. Erik kneeled down before her, cupping her face and bringing her eyes to meet his. "Christine, I'm sorry. Please try to understand me- I knew that when the time came for me to have a wife, if I could find a woman willing to give herself to me, I knew it would have to be this way."
Christine didn't know what she could say to that.
Erik took hold of a free lock of hair and gave it a gentle tug, the same way he did when they'd been together in Shalimar. "To you, my expectations must sound very sad but I've had years to think things through. A practical marriage may be the best thing for me." He said, lightly stroking her cheek. Again, he damned the gloves that prevented genuine contact.
Something changed in the air between them then, some unseen connection formed. Erik felt a rush of heat sweep down his back, triggering desire for the young woman that sat before him. It was her scent, invading him, driving his thoughts, coaxing his body. Christine moved her face closer to his, her eyes holding his as her lips parted...
No, damn you, don't!
Erik stood up and put some distance between them. They had been too close, and he had been within a hair's breath of kissing her. That could not happen, so for the sake of any future friendship with Christine, Erik knew he would have to get a better handle on his attraction to her.
Christine nodded. "I think you're right, Erik. We shouldn't talk any more about this until sometime later. We should just...enjoy each other while we can." She said, her voice quiet and somewhat resigned.
Erik held out his hand and pulled Christine from the lounge. They had spent several days together already, and not one of the days had been free of tears or heavy emotion. Erik only ever wished to see Christine smile from now on, and he determined not to upset her again. "Let's try again for the opera tonight, would you like that?"
She smiled, and Erik felt better already. "Yes, Erik, that's a wonderful idea."
He nodded. "Right. I'll pick you up tonight at eight."
Christine did not return directly to her apartment after visiting with Erik earlier in the day. She went by her agency to pick up a copy of the final print for her Tiffany campaign, and was both surprised and delighted to find a gift from the photographer she'd worked with on the shoot waiting for her- interestingly, his gift was a pair of sapphire earrings and a matching velvet silk choker, both chosen from the lastest Tiffany collection.
Clara, the agency receptionist made goo-goo eyes and kissy noises at Christine as she put on the earrings. The choker she would save for the opera later in the night. Though Clara was being obnoxious, the earrings did include a "no pressure" invitation to dinner. Christine smiled. The photographer had been notably respectful and very creative; no doubt that Tiffany would find a great many new fans after the launch of the campaign in only a few more days' time.
Her spirits lifted as the day wore on; New York was alive and in her veins, pounding out a drumbeat for love and strength and freedom. She stepped into a Starbucks and took her coffee to a bench in Central Park. Christine let her eyes wander as people moved up and down jogging paths with all variety of friendly dogs and happy children. She thought of her father, dead and gone, but never forgotten.
Why had Gabriel written to Erik? What had they spoken of before he'd died?
Christine wondered if Gabriel had deliberately urged Erik back into her life knowing that it would only open the old wounds from her first infatuation, but of course that was absurd. Christine had put so much effort into avoiding any mention of Erik after they'd settled in America, she had been sure that Gabriel would have assumed she'd forgotten about him all together.
If only he knew!
Why then, had Gabriel gotten into contact with Erik again? None of it made much sense to Christine, but all the same she was glad that Erik was back in her life once more, even now as the man twisted her thoughts and emotions. He acted differently towards her now; treating her as the adult she was, rather than the child she'd been.
Christine liked it, though at the same time she felt unsure of how to sort out her own feelings for the man.
Enough already!
Christine downed the last of her coffee and headed towards Kalila's townhouse. It was the space that she had shared with Gabriel since their move to America and, unbeknownst to Christine, the house had been a gift from Erik. Christine had not seen Kalila since Gabriel's funeral, and she chided herself for not having checked in on her stepmother sooner.
Erik had provided her a great distraction from the loss of her father during the past several days, but oddly enough when Christine thought of Gabriel she focused only on the happier times they'd shared. His suffering had ended, and she would see him again in the afterlife; that Gabriel was gone still tore at her heart, but speaking with Erik that first night had gone a long way towards healing.
Christine made it up to the front door of the townhouse and let herself inside; she had lived with Gabriel and Kalila until just under a year ago, when Belinda had coaxed her into leaving the family nest. "Kalila? Are you home?" Christine called.
Her switch to Shaliman was effortless; her every visit with Erik had acted as a refresher course in the language, as he was not completely fluent in English and she couldn't speak a word of French. "Kalila?" She called out again.
Shrugging, Christine headed into the kitchen and began scrounging for food. Despite being a model, Christine did have a healthy appetite. The stereotype of anorexic models was greatly exaggerated as far as Christine was concerned; she was naturally slender, true, but she credited her body to exercise and a healthy diet.
Finding a dish leftover from the night before, Christine began to serve herself a plate. It was a Shaliman meal, lamb kabobs with rice and glazed pears. She heard movement upstairs and figured that Kalila must have been napping or in the shower when she'd first come in. Setting her lunch aside, Christine headed upstairs towards the noise.
"Kalila?" She called again.
"I'm in my room, Christine, you may come in." Kalila called back to her. Christine stepped into the master bedroom and found Kalila in her robe, having just come out of the shower. The older woman was petite and her coloring reflected the majority of the Shaliman people, bronzed skin topped off with dark hair and even darker eyes.
Kalila was blotting the water from her long hair. She smiled at Christine. "What's brought you to visit? Is everything all right?"
Christine shrugged, bracing herself in case Kalila intended to speak about Gabriel. She had loved her father deeply, but she was exhausted with emotion; the man she remembered had been long gone, it was only his sick, wretched body that had died. Gabriel should be celebrated, not mourned.
She nodded. "Yes, Kalila, I'm fine. And you?"
Kalila paused. "I miss your father very much. I loved him, but I am relieved that his suffering finally ended. We will be reunited in the end, I think." Kalila turned to her and smiled. "He wouldn't have wanted us to grieve, you remember? He said, 'when you think of me, I don't want your tears, I want your smiles.'"
Christine nodded. "Yes, I remember he did say that, months before he died. I'll always miss him. Kalila, I wanted to see if you were doing all right, but I also had to ask you a few questions."
Kalila motioned for Christine to turn around so that she could dress, and Christine obliged by turning to face the wall.
She could hear drawers opening and material rustling as Kalila chose her clothes for the day. "What things?"
Christine cleared her throat. "Did dad ever mention anything about getting into contact with Erik again in the past few weeks?"
"Erik? The king?"
"The one and only, Kalila." Christine smiled. "Did you know that he and dad had been in contact for the past couple months or so?"
Kalila pulled on a sweater and led Christine back downstairs. "I did notice that your father had been spending time on the computer, but I'd thought nothing of it. I only supposed that he was working on his column or reviewing articles. How did you find out he was speaking with our king?"
Christine wondered how she could explain away that she had been with Erik for the past several days. She took a deep breath. "Well, Erik is here in the city, he's staying at the Ritz-Carlton hotel. He came to my apartment and showed me a letter that dad wrote to him that suggested I help him find a wife, but before I do that we're going to share his loft in Paris for about a month and then he's going to officially abdicate to Kumar."
Kalila stared at her, shocked. "Our king is here? Wh- I don't understand, go back."
Christine flopped onto the living room sofa and recounted everything to Kalila, from Erik's first visit to her apartment to their interview that morning. Naturally, Christine omitted the strange tension she felt whenever she and Erik were alone, not to mention her intensely confused feelings toward the man.
"...and we're going to Paris soon, and after that he will officially abdicate." She finished.
Kalila sat across from her, confused as ever. "You are to assist Erik in selecting a wife? What madness!"
Christine laughed. "That's exactly what I thought! From the letter, it sounds like dad just thought I could help Erik but he's taking this way too seriously. Helping him to choose a wife is a responsibility I didn't ask for. But...I've found that Erik does need help, and I've already agreed to help him once we get to France. I just thought you should know about this before I leave."
Kalila nodded. "This is a strange situation, Christine. Will there be a chaperone to stay with you while you are in Paris with him?"
Christine rolled her eyes, the familiar irritation stirring within. "No, there will be no chaperone. Erik and I will be staying together in his loft, alone. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a grown woman now, not a kid anymore. You have no reason to question Erik, he's never been anything but wonderful to me."
Kalila sat up straighter. "It is not proper for an unmarried man and woman to share the same house-"
Christile felt like she could pull out her hair. "Are you joking? Those customs belong in Shalimar, not in France and certainly not in America. The rules change with where you go in the world, Kalila, haven't you noticed that yet? I'm staying with Erik in Paris, and I promise you that nothing unseemly will happen...but if it does, why would that be such a terrible thing?" She demanded.
As they spoke, Christine suddenly wanted to know why it was that her father had been so determined to keep her away from Erik. Christine had spent ten years as a citizen of Shalimar; she knew its customs even better than she knew those of America. Though she'd been young, Gabriel could have spoken to Erik about a future possibility of courtship, he could have let her stay with Erik when she had felt such love for him; instead, Gabriel had done his best to discourage her from seeing her friend.
Why?
Kalila frowned. "Do not bring up that old arguement, Christine. You know very well why Gabriel thought it best to keep you apart. What grown man spends so much time with a child? It was bizarre, but then Erik had always rejected the conventions of Shalimar. His suits, his French foods and music. He is a strange man, but good. If you wish to stay with him in Paris, I will not stop you, Christine. I only worry for your image."
Christine felt her anger die away. At the end of the day, she'd always known that both Gabriel and Kalila had only wanted what was best for her. It was pointless to argue about such things now. She stood and hugged her stepmother. "I know you worry, Kalila, and I thank you for caring so much. As you said, Erik is strange but good. I...I will endeavor to find him a deserving wife." Christine said. The words were false in her heart; she didn't think she would ever be able to give Erik over to another woman, especially one that couldn't love him in the way he deserved.
Kalila walked Christine to the door. "Come to see me before you go to Paris, I'll make dinner. Oh, and when will I see that Tiffany print that had you so excited?"
Christine smiled and gestured to the kitchen table, where she had left her poster in its packing-tube. "I just came from my agency, the ads will go out to print in a few days." She unrolled the print and laid it flat over the surface of the table. "Here, do you like it?"
Kalila looked over the poster carefully. "Christine, it's very...striking."
Happily, Christine had to agree.
"I think it looks fantastic, aunt Kali must have been shocked." Belinda laughed as she looked over the print for herself.
Christine smiled. "You wouldn't be wrong there. There are definite perks to this job," she said, pulling back her hair to show off her new earrings, "But shocking Kalila with every new add is definitely the best part." She laughed.
"And what about Erik? How do you think he'll like the ads?" Belinda asked as she slicked on a coat of mascara. Christine wasn't the only one with such an active social life; Belinda had a date with an artist she'd met the weekend before at a gallery opening. Sean was polite and spontaneous and very fun; Belinda had put her life on hold to mourn for Gabriel, but life's somber realities often made her uncomfortable. Belinda had figured that if the man's daughter could return to enjoying life, then his niece was certainly entitled!
Christine shrugged, unsure herself what Erik might think when he next opened a magazine and saw her with a king's ransom of diamonds dripping around her throat. She had not told him what she did for a living, but then again, Erik had never asked. She wondered if perhaps he knew already and simply hadn't mentioned it. Perhaps Gabriel had told him.
"I'll tell him tonight, or I might let him see the ads for himself. What does it matter, anyway? His mother was a fashion model in Paris, or so I've been told. He's never shown me her picture." Christine said as she tugged on her new sapphire earring.
Belinda slipped on a bracelet and struck a pose, "How do I look?" She had dressed for a night out, flashy colors and clinging fabircs hugged her slim body.
Christine smiled. "Tres chic."
"Ah, merci, merci."
"I have to start learning a little French since I'm going to Paris. Some of the words are actually similar to Shaliman, it's a big help."
Belinda pulled on her jacket and wished Christine a good night as Sean arrived at the door to pick her up. Christine watched them as they started down the street, hand in hand and looking starstruck at the sight of each other. Their relationship was in its infancy, but Christine liked them together, she thought they were a fitting suit, both of them so in love with life, impulsive and playful.
Can I find a match for Erik? She wondered. A woman that he would find attractive, a woman he could spend time talking to, develop a friendship with, have a family with...she sighed and pressed her forehead against the cold window, thinking how her renewed feelings for Erik were in serious danger of hurting her again.
The apartment doorbell rang and Christine smiled at her own foolishness, wondering if there was a red mark on her face now. She crossed the apartment and checked the peephole. Erik was on the other side of the door, pacing and seeming very agitated. Christine glanced at her watch.
It's barely past 6:30, what is he doing here so early?
Christine opened the door. "Erik, is everything all right?"
He crossed the threshold and faced her, his tiger eyes gleaming and his mouth set in a grim line. "Everything is...Christine, do you trust me?" He asked, taking hold of her hands in his.
His erratic behavior was making her nervous, she only wanted to know what was happening. "You know I do, Erik. Please. What happened?" She asked, raising her hand to rest over his shoulder.
Her touch had a calming effect over the man. He took a deep breath and some of the chaotic fire died from his eyes. He was quiet for a time, the two of them simply standing in the warm light of her home. Erik raised his hands to her face, cupping her, bringing her closer. "Christine...will you come with me to Paris tonight?"
