A/N: Sorry for the horrible delay in this chapter. Things have gone from bad to worse at mi casa. Thanks once again to CelticHeart for editing!

Chapter 20

I froze where I stood, enraptured and horrified at his sudden, overwhelming presence. For a moment we just stared at one another, his eyes boring deep into mine. They were so intriguing and dangerously beautiful, a whirlwind of colors that shifted and mixed in the flickering light. At times they appeared to be deep sea blue, then they moved to an unfathomable green and finally to a light gold. The part of his face that was in the light was both harsh and smooth. I ran my eyes down his well-cut cheekbone to his full, sensual lips which snarled slightly, and he shifted uneasily as I ran my gaze up to his eyes once more.

"What happened to your end of the bargain, Mademoiselle? Or did it simply slip your mind that it was just to be your stepsister and I that were to attend the lesson?" He sounded annoyed again, and I tried my best not to appear too flustered after my fright over Sophie's well-being and his sudden appearance.

"She asked me to wait, Monsieur," I stated as calmly as I possibly could. I heard him snort softly at my wavering voice, and I lifted my eyes up to his once more.

He arched his eyebrow as he studied my face. "And so you paced outside this door the entire time, even when you knew I expressibly forbid it? Tell me my dear, will Sophie be able to help your family when Cabartte's rage comes over them? He is quite displeased with you, all it would take is one word from me and you would find yourself at his side that night."

I blanched slightly, my breath coming out in sputtering gasps. "I only wanted to help her Monsieur. Surely you can see that. She asked me to be there."

"And you think I am someone who can be trifled with?" he snapped back, a harsh sound coming into his tone. "Who else have you told about these lessons? Madame Giry, perhaps?"

"I would never! I met with her today even and told her nothing! I even lied to my own stepsister! I thank you for your help Monsieur, and by all means I will do anything in my power to repay you. Don't presume that I am so two-faced as to expect your help then turn around and betray you." I spat right back at him. If he is the all-seeing "Opera Ghost" then how could he think this of me? Did he not hear what I said to Madame Giry? I could lose my position for my lies to her!

He raised his chin slightly at me, a cold, calculating look coming into his eyes. "Tell me then, what did you think of her?"

I couldn't help myself. I gaped at him. "Think of who?" The sudden leap from threats to casual conversation caught me by surprise so I thought my lack of understanding was perfectly rational.

He however wasn't so compliant. "The girl! Or are you so daft as too not have caught a single strand of the music."

"Oh," I stammered, my feelings trampled a bit by his cheeky comment. "I thought that she sounded much improved. Her sound is much more warm and light, compared to the deepness that it once carried." I stated, my cheeks reddening under his now intense stare.

Then he almost gave a sigh of relief, but in the next moment the small smile of satisfaction that played lightly on his lips was replaced by his hard frown once more. "Good."

With that he began to sink deeper into the shadows of the hallway, where I had no doubt he had several means of escape.

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur, but might I have my book returned to me?"

He paused, his head turning from the darkness over to me. Raising his right hand, where my well-worn novel rested passively in his grasp, he studied the cover. His eyes widened for a moment, and he glanced over my way before opening the front cover. His hands ran slowly, almost lovingly over the blue spine and his fingers danced lightly on the thin pages. He flipped several leaves of paper rapidly over, before shutting the book once more. He started to hand it over to me, a small corner of his lip upturned.

"I was unaware that women read anything other than flighty romance novels, but The Decameron is quite the opposite, rather violent for a proper young woman."

Now it was my turn to feel my temper rise slightly. "Is it too immoral for my delicate femininity? Or is it just the fact that since I am part of the lesser sex, my slow-witted mind can't grasp anything over the typical cookbook?"

The corner of his lip curled even more, but this time it wasn't with annoyance. He seemed to be amused that a maid would own such a book, let alone be able to read it. "Not at all, my dear girl. But are you enjoying it? I found the seventy-eighth story to be of particular interest when I read it."

"I've only reached the sixtieth tale, I'm afraid." I replied, my ill mood lessening some when he didn't begin to lecture me about what should be the correct literary knowledge of a well-bred young woman, much less what shouldn't even be a part of the literary knowledge of anyone from the lesser class.

"I see." He replied, and lifted the cover of the novel once more. "And how do you find it?"

I let out a slightly outraged huff of air then, shaking my head at his sudden friendliness. What do you have up your sleeve, Monsieur? "I think it very well written. I love his style, and the tales of medieval Europe during the Black Death hold my interest rather well."

He outright smirked at me, his lip no longer holding its slight curve, but angling up in an unmistakable jeer. He held out his hand, the blue bound book resting lightly in his grasp. I looked up at his face slowly, a small idea popping into my head. A good half of his body was shrouded in shadows, and I wanted badly to know what this man looked like. When he let out an impatient breath of air, his weight shifting slightly from one foot to the other, I made up my mind. Crossing my arms to my chest, and jutting my hip out slightly I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Might I have my book?"

He moved his arm out to me further, but I didn't move forward to take it. For a moment the slight glimmer of humor in his eyes deepened, then it flared and burned out.

"If you want your book so badly then I suggest that you take it." His voice was low and tinted with danger, but I ignored it.

"How do I know that you won't harm me again if I come near you?" I asked, tapping my left foot softly on the tiles. His gaze moved down to the offending noise and he growled in the back of his throat.

"I won't touch you." He replied back, and I halted the movement of my foot. Uncrossing my arms, I tilted my head slightly to see if I could get a better view of him, and he stepped further into the darkness. His nervousness, or sheer determination in hiding his identity struck a chord in me. Nodding at him, I inched forward, taking several hesitant steps toward him. His distinctive aroma hit me full on and I let it wrap itself about my senses. Once I was within five feet of him, I stopped and reached out my hand. As he edged his own out toward mine, I caught sight of his tattered black glove. I curled my fingers toward my palm, stilling my journey to my book.

What once must have been a deep black leather, was now a fraying charcoal grey. I let my eyes wander up further on his arm, taking in the slight stain of candle wax on his cuff. I could see that his entire outfit was falling apart. Apparently all of his money and cleverness were not being used for his personal appearance.

I tentatively took hold of a small edge of his suit. With a quick, angry flick of his wrist my hand was back at my side. "What the devil do you think you are doing, Woman?" he asked, slinking away from me.

"Your outfit, it needs mending badly. If you don't take care of it now then there won't be a suit left." I replied. A small bit of his cloak had draped out into the light beside my foot and I put my heel lightly over it. "This as well. Look at how the hem is coming out!"

He snarled at me and reached out a hand to his trapped cloak, whipping it from under my feet and sending it whooshing behind him. But he had leaned forward a bit more then he had needed to.

I gasped softly and took a step back, then leaned forward once more. The right side of this man's face was an ivory mask. It covered all his right cheek and forehead except for his upper lip and chin. It glowed harsh and white in the dim candle light in the hallway compared to his dark chestnut hair. His eyes snapped up to where mine where, a look of both rage and pain drifting about in the golden orbs. But he didn't move backwards this time, instead he walked into my full view.

I let out a loud gust of air from my lungs, my breathing harsh, my chest rising and falling rapidly. Straightening my spine, I tried to stand at my full height in front of this man. He towered above me, a figure that was as powerful and large as he was dark and mysterious. His cloak flared about him for a moment covering his light yellow and black vest, his shoes snapping on the tiles. Gazing down at me, with eyes even more intense than I could have imagined them to be, he spoke.

"Well, my dear, your silence will now need to be increased tenfold, and you have no one to blame but yourself. I suggest that you take your book." He thrust the blue novel into my hands, his fingers not even brushing me. I looked down at the bound covers and then back up at him, letting my gaze take in everything about him, from his well-worn shoes to his patched cloak.

"I . . . I can help you with your clothes, Monsieur," I said softly, my voice hardly audible, even to me. He shrugged his cape up further onto his large shoulders, then looked down at his frayed vest and cravat. For a moment I thought that he would just turn on his heel and leave without answering me.

"How long will it take you? I have several other things that need to be washed as well." His melodious voice had become a monotone. Now it was my turn to smirk at him. So you do need help after all . . .

"It shouldn't take me more then a few days. I can have Madeline help me with the mending. That is if you don't mind . . . " I trailed off, my eyes trying to take in his reaction. He merely nodded to me and pouted his lip slightly in thought.

"I only foresee one problem, my dear." He replied narrowing his eyes at my curved lips. "Where would a person such as me leave their clothes? I can't just walk into the kitchen and hand you them over, you know. And there might be an issue with a man's suit and cloak simply lying on the counter one morning."

I pondered for a moment, pacing to the left and right as I tried to work out my options. I could feel his eyes following my every move.

"You could leave them in the wash room, if you can get down there, that is . . . " I was interrupted by his pert remark.

"That, Mademoiselle, will not be a problem."

I nodded to him, trying to push down my annoyance at his arrogance, as he confirmed my fear that he did indeed have access to everything in the opera. "Well that's settled then. I suppose that you can leave them sometime tomorrow and I should have them finished by Thursday. That cloak, however, will need new lining, and I'm afraid that will cost money." I finished, ducking my head slightly.

"A bag of francs will be in the upper pocket of one of my suits. That should hold you over for whatever adjustments that you need to make on them." He replied, his tone a mixture of outrage and amusement. I shrugged slightly to myself. So what if you appear forward, Lizzy! This man has you and your whole family right where he wants you.

"Fine, that should work nicely." I replied, my gaze riveted on his mask once more.I was torn. My inquisitive side was being eaten alive with curiosity, while my sensible side felt immense pity for this man.

With a slight bow he moved back into the shadows, leaving me standing alone in a patch of light. When I heard the familiar swish of his cloak I remembered something.

"Monsieur!"

He must have halted for the light hushing noise stopped abruptly. "What did Sophie mean by you have a surprise?"

A long silence greeted my question and I shifted nervously on my feet. Did he leave already? Was that noise just another panel opening?

I was about to leave, thinking that he must have left, when his response came drifting back to me.

"We shall surprise all of Paris my dear. Hopefully she will be a good girl and keep her word to me. Try not to push and pry. This time the matter does not include you."

I huffed slightly at him, narrowing my eyes at where I assumed that he was standing. "I wouldn't dream of upsetting your plans. But as you said earlier, this little scheme depends on my silence. One which I am perfectly willing to give if you keep Cabartte away."

He chuckled slightly at me, a low rumbling sound that was not quite laughter. "Just like your aunt I must say. You only help if there's something in it for you."

I rolled my eyes. "Or you Monsieur, for surely you are not helping my stepsister out of the goodness of your heart."

"No. It appears Mademoiselle that we are both quite selfish creatures." He replied and I heard his cloak pick up its noise again.

I grinned slightly, that was partially true. But Sophie's protection and my family's needs would always come before my own.

"Monsieur, might I beg to know your name?" I asked to his retreating presence.

This time he didn't stop, but he did call back to me as he walked. "Erik. My name is Erik, Elizabeth."