Wow, an actualy update. This is beyond a miracle. Thank you for all of those coming back to read the story. Of course, thanks a million to my beta Erik'sLittleLotte.


He would have had the same reaction if she were wearing a sack of potatoes instead of the ordinary jeans and the old worn out sweater. There was something about her. Something that made him immediately stand and just stare at her. Neither of which he did.

She had a commanding presence, something he himself didn't possess. Except only around his workers and even then he didn't have that imposing presence that she brought in with her.

Aminta…

Of course, suddenly he realized why she had taken his breath away. She was Aminta. In his mind she was the woman he had thought up of years before. The one that had haunted his very thoughts for years.

She was perfect.

Erik turned from her and cleared his throat and just waved a hand to let her in. "Come in."

He was surprised she didn't hear the tremble in his voice. If she did, she made no indication of it and stood next to the piano. "What were you playing?"

He shrugged. "Something to pass the time."

She placed an elbow over the piano and her chin in the palm of her hand. "I didn't know you played the piano."

He nodded then stood to take out the music from the piano bench. "We shall start with some scales so you can warm up-"

"Who taught you?" She interrupted, still curious.

"No one," he said as he rifled through different books and sheets of music. "I just picked it up one day."

"You must be really talented then," Christine said almost dismissively. "Very impressive."

He tried to sound just as dismissive but failed when his thanks almost came out as a squeak. He cleared his throat quickly then began the lesson. "Christine, do you know the scales?"

"Some," Christine admitted. "My fa- that is, I picked up a couple."

Erik raised an eyebrow to her comment. "Then you will be able to sing along to the piano."

He began the count off and they began the scales. More than once he had to correct her posture.

"Head back, high. Good. Now the shoulders, relax them." Then he sighed. "It would be better if you didn't cover your mouth with the jacket."

"Too bad," was all she answered before she turned away from him.

"Christine," Erik sighed again. "Don't be difficult. This will help you. That's all I want to do."

It was Christine's turn to sigh and this time she didn't protest. She put the hood of her sweater back and ran her fingers through her hair to make sure it was covering her face. Not once did she face him.

"Satisfied?" She asked annoyed.

"Yes," Erik said. "Now, let's do this again."

After more warm-ups, when Erik was satisfied, they began on a simple song he composed years before.

Christine breezed through it and almost threw it on the piano. "Is that all you got?"

Erik looked at her infuriated. "Don't get cocky, Christine. You would be amazed at how many people went to utter failure because they were too arrogant."

Christine scoffed.

Erik shook his head. "I am doing this for your own good. Don't act like a five year old whenever someone tries to tell you something to help you."

Christine took the paper again and said through gritted teeth. "Yes, maestro."

Erik held back a sigh. "You don't have to call me that, Christine. Erik will suffice."

Christine turned her covered half of her face towards him. "Yes, fine."

"And stop with the attitude," Erik snapped. "I don't like it."

After a second of silence Christine spoke, "I'm sorry." This time it sounded sincere. "It's just that I guess I've never been in this kind of situation before. I don't like people telling me what to do."

"Well, then," Erik told her. "Now would be the perfect time to start."

Christine nodded. "Shall we start again?"

Erik smiled. "Certainly."

After an hour and a half of the lesson Erik thought it would be best if they discontinued.

"That would be all for tonight," Erik told her. "Tomorrow I would like it if I didn't have to correct your posture all the time."

"It's just until I get used to it, I suppose," Christine said putting the hood back on.

"It may be difficult in the beginning, but once time goes by, it will be easier. I promise."

Christine only placed her elbow on the piano once again as he put the music away. "Will you play something?"

Erik looked up slightly. "What do you want me to play?"

"Anything."

"Oh," he said sitting, confused by her request. "All right." His expert fingers played over the keys. It was one of his favorite songs, one of the first he had began playing when he was child.

"Do you like playing the piano?" She asked, curious.

He nodded. "Immensely. It was the first instrument I began to play. It will forever be my favorite."

"Have you always liked music?"

He looked at her curiously. Why was she all of a sudden asking so many questions and so interested in him? Erik saw this as an opportunity. Maybe she would trust him more and open up to him if he told her all about him.

"Ever since I was a child," he confided. "My mother's friend was the best violinist in the state, so he gave me lessons. Everyone said that I surpassed him by the time I was twelve. I play both the violin and piano."

She cocked her head, he could have sworn she was laughing beneath her shadowed hood. "Then why did you choose architecture over music? I'm sure you would have made an excellent teacher in a school or a private tutor."

He shrugged and then placed his elbows over the keys, making a horrible sound. "I suppose I followed my mother's plan for me in my life."

Christine seemed interested so he continued. He traced the gold design on the black grand piano with his long fingers. "She didn't believe there to be a future in music so I went after my second passion: Architecture." He smiled and looked at her as he placed his hands over the keys again, this time playing a cheery tune. "In the end, it was the best option. I now get to do architecture and compose music on my free time."

"That's wonderful," she said with obvious happiness in her voice. "You get to do what you love all the time."

Erik didn't want to risk losing this opportunity to try to get her to trust him so he continued the conversation.

"Personally, in architecture, my favorite era must be the Renaissance. It changed the way everyone thought of architecture-" He was about to continue when she cut him off.

"My favorite of the Renaissance is Santa Maria del Fiore, the cathedral in Florence. Bruneschelli was a great architect. So were the others after him. If I were an architect like him and I died, I'd want them to continue with my work." She looked up from where she was looking which were her hands. "Only if it means I become the most famous of all of them, because it is my work."

He smiled at her. How did she manage to know something like that? If she was living in the street that probably meant she had no education.

Maybe he was wrong.

"Did you know that he fired all his workers one day because they were doing a horrible job and they were changing his plans?" She laughed a bit. "A perfectionist to the end."

Erik sat there, amazed by her. She was knew so much of something he loved. No one seemed to be interested in architecture anymore, and yet, she was. He didn't loose the opportunity to ask her something which he had debated with in college. "What do you think of gothic architecture?"

He completely blew her away with everything she knew. He was amazed by her intelligence, she knew more than a lot of his friends and she was a child living in the streets!

Yes, a child, she had to be no more than twenty, he could even tell by the way she talked.

It was why he went to the following conclusion. "You have already seen some of my musical work, perhaps you would like to see my architectural. One of these days, would you like to accompany me to my work site?"

She had been leaning over the piano but suddenly she forced herself up almost as if she had gotten herself too comfortable and she reminded herself of the situation. He was, after all, in her eyes, still a stranger.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she told him.

"Why not?" Erik told her. "You seem to enjoy talking about architecture. I'm sure you would like the new wing I'm adding to the estate I'm working on."

She shook her head firmly. "That's my final answer."

He sighed and stopped playing, his fingers still over the piano. "Christine, do not use your face as an excuse. You keep doing that, you keep pushing people away. I'm trying to help you Christine. Don't push me away too."

This proved to be the wrong thing to say because the once-cheerful Christine vanished, replaced by that girl Erik had first met. The bad-mouthed girl that had disappeared for almost a day, the one he wanted to free.

"Fuck you!" She hollered. "You don't know shit about me! Mind your own fucking business!" She pushed the wooden cover of the keys on top of his hands.

He jumped back just in time as it made contact as it closed with a deafening clack.

Erik paled. If his hands had been there, he probably would have broken a finger or two. That would mean it would be over for him playing the piano.

He looked to the door with fury in his eyes, ready to yell at her.

She was already gone, he could hear a door slamming in his apartment.

He could only quietly steam on the piano bench. It would make no sense to knock things over and throw things to relieve him of his mood.

No, he had to be rational. Calm. Composed.

If he had a pencil in his hands, he would have snapped it in two. If there were any vases, he would have knocked it over onto his precious Persian carpet.

After everything he had done. After everything he had to rearrange in his life to accommodate her, she was still an ungrateful little bitch.

Erik ran a hand through his hair and sighed, regretting calling her a bitch even if he had only thought about it. It wasn't her fault. He just couldn't shut up. Maybe what he said wasn't true.

He stood up and placed the cover correctly over the keys of the piano. No one had ever said that this was going to be easy. But he wouldn't give up. She had made some progress today, perhaps sometime soon she would give him the opportunity to learn about her.

He shut off the light of the study and walked to the living room.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "If she will ever forgive me."


If you would like for me to continue this story, please send me a review. I would greatly appreciate it.