New York had drawn her back in.
She looked around from the windows of the taxi, remembering the last time she had been here. It had been raining then. But the summer evening was warm and bright, and there were plenty of people out and about. She wished she had gotten a hotel closer to the restaurant, as it would have been nice to walk. Still, she had opted to wear a pair of heels, so maybe it was best that she hadn't walked anyway. Before coming, she had worried a few times if there was any possibility of running into Raoul, but after checking his social media pages, she saw that he had gotten a prestigious internship in Paris and would be gone until the upcoming fall semester. It had been surreal to read and realize. Raoul was back in Paris, and she was back in New York.
Her stay here wouldn't be for very long, though. Tonight and tomorrow night, and then she would be going back to her little apartment a few hours north. She had...some semblance of a life to get back to. Her part-time job. The kids at the hospital. And her cat. She had left it at an overpriced pet boarding business. They had promised cage-free, all-natural food and intensive one-on-one care of and bonding with her pet, and Christine had rolled her eyes a little but left the cat there. At least it would be well taken care of, apparently.
It wasn't the most thrilling of prospects to return to, but at least there she…
She couldn't think of anything, and so she left those thoughts and chose instead to focus on the upcoming dinner.
Savino de Rege had replied two days later, which had surprised and excited her. He had been extremely polite in his message and had said that yes, he had done a lot of business with Erik in the past and would be happy to talk to her about it.
As luck would have it, Miss Daae, I will be in New York within the week to take care of some business in the States. If you would like, I would be more than willing to meet with you for an evening to discuss this.
She hadn't bothered to tell him that she didn't actually live in New York anymore but had instead replied that she would also be 'more than willing' to meet. He had then made arrangements at a restaurant in the city, and Christine was glad she had looked it up before leaving. It was extremely pricey, and apparently reservations had to be made months in advance. Had she not known, she probably would have gone to the restaurant in jeans and tennis shoes and not been allowed inside.
Nervously, she checked her cell phone. She was going to be a few minutes late. Hopefully that wouldn't be too rude. Savino's suggestion of meeting in a public place had lifted some of her worries. He couldn't slap her or point a gun at her there. She would be safe. And tomorrow, she was going to a nice spa to simply relax for a day before leaving the city the next morning.
She hadn't prepared any questions and had simply brought a blank notebook to write down anything interesting. This time she wasn't pretending to be anyone else and was hoping that the conversation would be much more relaxed and natural than it had been with her awful impersonations with Dr. Khan and Madeleine. She had, though, practiced a little to be sure that she would be able to give Savino a watered-down story of what had happened between her and Erik. There was no need for him to know that Erik had been in love with her, that he had trapped her, that he had…
There was no need for him to know any of that. He simply needed to know that Erik had taught her during the summer but had had to leave New York for...work-related reasons. Or something.
The taxi pulled up to the sidewalk, and Christine paid the driver. To her surprise, the door was opened for her, and she looked up in confusion. A man in a suit was there, and she frowned and exited the car, murmuring a bewildered 'thank you.' The restaurant had wide, clean glass doors, and she clutched her purse tightly and walked toward it somewhat hesitantly, aware that her clothing was not designer and her shoes had been on clearance when she had bought them. Madeleine's condescending smirk came to mind, and Christine huffed in anger and irritation, trying to hold her head up high.
It was bright and inviting in the restaurant, and she was greeted politely by a dark-haired man in a tuxedo with an accent she couldn't place.
"I'm...I think I'm supposed to meet someone here," she said, looking around. "Savino de Rege? I'm Christine Daae…"
The man gave a short, knowing, "Ah, of course," and Christine felt herself slump just a little in relief as she followed him through a small hallway and into the dining hall. It was full of finely-dressed people talking quietly, sipping on expensive wines with a man playing the piano in the corner. Christine felt her heart lurch for a second. It was Liszt's Liebestraum, a piece Erik had played for her several times. The man sitting at the piano was not Erik, of course, but it still made her hands shake and her mouth go dry.
Luckily, she was distracted from the music as the host showed her to the table. Savino de Rege was there smiling, and a woman was sitting next to him. The man in the tuxedo insisted on pulling the chair out for her, and she let him scoot it back in a little bit before leaving with a short bow of his head.
There was a moment of silence, and then Savino sat down as well. The woman next to him was very slim and beautiful, her dark hair twisted up elegantly and diamonds dripping from her ears. Christine blushed a little; she had forgotten to put on any jewelry besides the silver bracelet that she now wore out of habit.
Just as she was about to open her mouth to say an awkward 'hello,' Savino leaned forward.
"It is a great honor to meet you, Miss Daae," he said, his light Italian accent somewhat charming. "I am glad you are here."
"Yeah," she said. "Thanks for...inviting me. Sorry I'm a little late."
Savino waved a hand. "It is no matter." Then he gestured to the woman next to him and said, "This is my wife, Amelia."
The woman nodded, smiling just slightly, and the fact that he was married made Christine relax just a bit more, though she wasn't really sure why. She didn't expect anything treacherous or dangerous, but another woman at the table was somehow reassuring.
"Nice to meet you," Christine said. "And thank you again for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. de Rege. I know it was probably really...unexpected."
"It was," Savino said. "But then again, I wouldn't expect anything else when it comes to dealing with our masked friend."
Her stomach twisted, and she sat up a little straighter. It had been months since she had talked to anyone about Erik, and though she was nervous, she was by now a little excited as well.
The waiter then arrived, and there were several minutes of discussion about wines and courses. There were no menus, and Christine sat there, unsure. Savino asked her after another minute if she had any wishes for their wine, and she said, blushing, "Oh—I don't really drink. Sorry…"
Savino frowned just a little and looked at her closely. Then he shrugged. "Do not be sorry, Miss Daae. Only be comfortable here."
The waiter rattled off the courses for the evening. Christine had no idea what any of it was. She caught the words "quail," "seasoned," and something about white chocolate in the dessert.
Erik had never taken her to any of these kind of restaurants before. They had still been absurdly high-end, but there had always been menus, and she had always recognized at least something on them. And they had always had strawberry ice cream if she had wanted it. Looking around the dining hall, with its marble floors and chandeliers and high, draped windows, Christine doubted that they would have any sort of ice cream here.
The wine was dark and red, and Savino offered some to her one more time before finally giving up. She felt a little childish sitting there with her water, but alcohol always made her sick to her stomach, and she wasn't going to get sick just to try to feel less awkward.
Erik had teased her about it a few times, though it had never been mean-spirited.
How are you to enjoy the luxuries of this world if you will not taste even a drop of them?
Well, we shall not go to southern France, now shall we? That entire region is wasted to us. We will have to go somewhere where there is not a drop of alcohol to poison you.
She sat for a few moments before realizing Savino had spoken again, and she blinked, bringing herself back to the present.
"I'm sorry, what?" she said, blushing again.
"I asked if you had lived in New York long," Savino repeated.
"Oh—not long," she said evasively. "Just...ever since I came here last summer."
"I like this city," Savino said. "I try to come many times in the year. Amelia is from New York, too."
"Yes," Amelia said. "I love London, but it's always nice to come home."
The small talk felt awkward. Christine played with the napkin on her lap, twisting it in her fingers. She glanced over to the pianist again. He was still playing Liszt.
Savino noticed and said, "You do not like the music?"
Her cheeks still warm, she quickly looked back to him. "No, it's fine. I...I like this piece. I'm sorry. I'm not normally so...distracted."
Their first courses arrived, giving Christine a few minutes to gather herself and mentally scold herself for being so unfocused. She noticed that Amelia did not pick up her cutlery until Savino had begun to eat, and she followed suit, wondering if it was an Italian custom that they had incorporated into their marriage. Erik had never eaten in front of her, something she had eventually gotten used to but had never liked. Even after taking off his mask...She did feel bad that he had hidden himself for so long. But given the way she had reacted to his face, she didn't blame him for doing his best to prevent her from seeing anything.
"So, Miss Daae," Savino then said. "I suppose we should start, yes?"
"Yes, please," Christine said gratefully. "Like I said in my email, I'm not really sure how you two know each other, just that you did business together."
Savino nodded. "And you were also not specific in your email about how you two know the other," he said, smiling slightly.
Christine paused and then said carefully, "He was my music instructor."
"Really?" Savino set down his cutlery. "How did you two lose contact?"
"He said he had an emergency...overseas," she said, hoping her blush wasn't returning to give away her lie. "He left before he told me where he was going."
"And he will not be back to continue teaching you?"
She shook her head.
Savino nodded again and looked deep in thought for a while. Another course arrived, and Christine was glad they were small portions.
After another minute, she felt it safe to continue and asked, "And...and how did you two know each other?"
"Business," Savino said easily. "He was first a customer. I had a company. Inoltrare. Then he came to Milan to work with me for a time."
"Really? What did he do?"
"He did many things," Savino said. "Technological developments for the company. New product design. It was good to have him."
"What about when the company went under?" She then blushed more deeply than ever as Savino looked at her sharply, a frown on his mouth for the first time that evening. "I'm sorry," she stammered. "I...I read it online. I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me."
There was a pause, and a waiter came to refill her water, which she gladly drank, trying to cool down her hot blush. Luckily Savino waved his hand after a moment and shrugged.
"The company fell apart. He left Milan. I don't know where. Then I went to London. Very simple, I suppose."
Christine put her hands back in her lap and twisted the napkin again, biting her lip before asking hesitantly, "Did you...um, like him? I mean...what did you think of him as a person?"
The smile was back. "You know him as well, Miss Daae. What do you think?"
"I guess...well, yeah, I liked him. He's brilliant. And a good teacher."
"Perhaps...an acquired taste?" Savino suggested, and Christine actually laughed at that.
"Exactly."
"And now you want to get into contact with him again?"
She paused and then felt her stomach flip again. Her head spun a little. She had forgotten that she had included that in her email to Savino. "Um...well." She looked at him. "You would know how to?"
"I have some ways."
The prospect of seeing Erik again...Of course, she had wondered over the past several months what that would mean, but she had never really considered it. She had put that in the email to Savino only because it would be too hard to explain to him that she wanted to know everything about Erik without actually seeing him again. Half of the time, she couldn't even explain it to herself.
Late at night, sometimes she would lie in her bed and ask herself why she didn't simply try to get in contact with him again. Then she would quickly push that thought out and squeeze her eyes shut. There had been that incident with the blog post...when she had been so close…
But now Savino said he had ways of getting in contact with Erik again. And that was making her stomach churn. Her head wouldn't stop spinning. The idea seemed more real than ever, and it was making her dizzy.
"Miss Daae," Savino then said. "If you would like, I could find him." A long pause followed. "I do not think he was merely your music instructor, you know…"
She looked at him sharply. Perspiration was starting to line across her forehead, and she put a hand on her temple, trying to get her mind to stop spinning.
"I'm…" she murmured. Was she going to throw up? And how could Savino say something like that to her! He had no idea...She had been careful. She hadn't said anything to him regarding the complicated relationship she had had with the masked man.
But she could barely form a coherent thought now. Her hands were shaking, and she took a deep breath. The room seemed to fade in and out of focus. The dizzy sensations were all strangely familiar, but she couldn't concentrate enough to remember where she had felt them before.
"Are you all right?" she heard Amelia ask.
Maybe if she just went to the bathroom...She could throw up there and clear her mind a little…
Her hands could barely lift the napkin out of her lap, and she set it on the table, trying to push herself up and trying to explain that she just needed a moment, just a few minutes alone to try to sort it all out. Her knees would not support her, though, and she buckled as soon as she stood. She could faintly hear a gasp. The room was spinning. Grabbing onto the table for support, she tried once more to push herself up and take a step, but she couldn't. More gasps came, these ones louder, and she realized that she was falling down and that she suddenly couldn't see anything anymore, couldn't feel anything, couldn't think.
It took her several minutes to register that she was conscious again. There was a murmur of voices next to her, but she couldn't understand what they were saying. Her body felt sluggish and her head could barely function. The most immediate sensations she could recognize was thirst and a headache.
Giving a feeble moan, she did her best to open her eyes. They seemed to be weighed down and unable to move. A pressure was suddenly on her left side.
"Christine?"
It took a few more minutes of lying there before she could remember anything at all. And when she did, she forced her eyes open. The room and bed were completely unfamiliar.
For some reason, she had half-expected to see the bedroom of Erik's basement apartment. The fact that it was not caused her heart to constrict a little.
Her mouth dry, her head still aching, she looked over and saw a man standing there. After a moment of half-conscious terror, she recognized Savino de Rege. He was frowning over her. And behind him was another man. The terror came back. Who was the other man? Where was she? Why couldn't she move or even think?
"It's all right, Miss Daae," Savino then said, reaching down to place a hand on her shoulder. She didn't want him touching her. "You fainted at the restaurant. You are in my apartment. And you are fine. This is Dr. Moretti. He says you passed out from stress."
The man behind him was nodding, and Christine continued to stare, trying to move her mouth and ask to please be taken to a hospital...or to be taken back to her hotel, at the very least. The most she could do was mumble incoherently.
"You should rest more," Savino said, his hand still on her. "I think you are not well."
It all rushed into her in a wave of confused emotions. She was in an unknown apartment, half-conscious with no idea how or why. And she hardly knew the man standing next to her. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, willing her mind to function, to somehow clear away the fog and actually process what was happening and come up with some kind of solution. She breathed deeply. How long had she actually been here?
Several minutes passed, and she sensed Savino and the doctor draw back from the bedside but remain in the room. She managed to calm herself just a little. It wouldn't be any help to start panicking. And there really wasn't anything to panic about. She had just gotten too worked up at the restaurant, and Savino had been concerned enough to call a doctor instead of just dropping her off at some overcrowded New York hospital.
These thoughts slowed her breathing more, and she worked on moving her hands and arms, flexing her fingers and bringing a hand up to press against her sweaty forehead. Opening her mouth, she tried one more time, her voice a hoarse, rasping croak:
"What happened?"
"You fainted," Savino said again, coming close to the bed. "It would not be good to not take care of you. Dr. Moretti says you will be fine. You simply need to rest."
"I want...the hotel…" She tried to look around for her purse. The address was in her phone.
"Hotel?" Savino repeated. "You mean your apartment, Miss Daae?"
She had told him she lived in New York, hadn't she? It was hard to keep things straight at this point, and Christine simply nodded.
"I will have you taken when you are well again," Savino said. "Perhaps one more day here until you are better."
No, now. She wanted to go now.
"There is some water here," Savino then said. "You should have some. Yes, Dr. Moretti? She should have some, no?"
A glass was pressed into her hands, and she felt Savino help her sit up a bit to drink it. Although she was embarrassed, the water woke her up more than anything, and she blinked rapidly. The headache was still there, but it was dull and not as distracting. She clumsily gulped down the entire glass, not caring that some of it spilled down her chin. And when that glass was emptied, Savino brought her another one which she eagerly drank.
More coherent now, she shakily managed to push herself up and rest against the headboard of the bed. She was still in the dress she had worn at the restaurant, and she was thankful for that.
The room was somewhat small, hardwood floors and one window. Even though the walls were painted white and spotless, it felt dark in the room. She could see through the window that the sun was shining brightly, but it didn't seem to fall into that bedroom.
Rubbing her eyes, she continued to wake herself up more, and then she looked at Savino, who was still watching her.
"I'm so sorry for the trouble I caused," she whispered. "I don't know what happened."
"I am glad I can help any way," he said. "I have food for you ready. It is only light things that will not make you sick." He looked over at Dr. Moretti, who nodded and left the room.
Christine glanced around the bedroom again. "This is your apartment?"
"Yes," Savino said. "Well, it is a small guest bedroom in the apartment."
"But you live in London," she stated, trying to understand.
His smile returned. "I do, Miss Daae. But I have an apartment here as well."
"For Amelia?" she said.
His smile widened just a bit. "Yes. For Amelia."
There was a knock on the door, and Savino went to open it. She couldn't see past him, but she saw him take something, and he returned with a tray of fruits and breads and cheeses, which he placed over her lap. There was a chair in the corner, and he pulled it next to the bed.
"Please. Eat something," Savino said. "It is important you feel better."
The food did look appetizing, and so Christine began, feeling self-conscious as she ate in front of him. She tried to eat as neatly and quietly as possible, but her hands were still shaking just slightly, resulting in her dropping some grapes and strawberries as she tried to put them in her mouth. Her blush had returned in full effect.
To try to fill the silence, she said, "Where is she?"
"Who?" Savino said.
"Amelia." The bread was very high-quality, and she tried not to eat too much too fast.
"Oh. She is out. She was very worried last night, but the doctor said you are fine. And she had to do business in the city."
Christine nodded and continued to eat. The headache was receding slightly, and more feeling was returning throughout her body. She still felt slightly groggy, but she was just grateful that she could actually move, function, and speak.
"Miss Daae, I would like to talk to you about our masked friend some more," Savino then said quietly, and Christine dropped another strawberry and looked up at him quickly.
"What? Why?" Her voice was a whisper.
"You said you wished to see him again?"
"I…" She looked down at her food, blushing.
"The red tells me many things," Savino said. When she glanced at him in confusion, he reached over and lightly stroked her warm cheek. She resisted the urge to slap his hand away or recoil. His smile was still there, and he continued: "He was not only a teacher. No?"
Clearing her throat, she said, "He was just...he taught me how to sing. That's it. Nothing else."
"I do not believe that."
"Then you're wrong," she said shortly, but her blush was deepening, and she couldn't meet his gaze. Her heart was starting to pound.
"Miss Daae, maybe you tell things to yourself. Then you believe them. But they are not true. He did bad things to you. To your old fiance."
She looked back at him, eyes wide, heart in her throat. He looked calm, a smile slightly touching his lips.
"But you are still looking for him. Why? I know. And you know, too."
She was shaking her head wordlessly, helplessly, but he ignored her and said,
"I have a deal for you, Miss Daae."