Erik had spent his day more or less alone, trying to concentrate on the blood samples in the Columbia laboratory and fruitlessly reviewing his latest business acquisition. He found he couldn't concentrate, as he knew would be the case. How could he concentrate while Claudette was out there, doing God knows what to his Christine?
Claudette, being a former model, was as up to date as a woman could be when it came to the latest trends in fashion. He wanted to provide Christine with everything she could want or need, and her immediate needs had been a wardrobe since he'd made her leave her old clothes- her old life- behind in that hovel of an apartment.
And as for Christine? Well. He knew nothing about her style as he'd assumed the cheap, threadbare clothes he'd always seen her in were more of a necessity than a preference. He had no idea what to expect when he saw her again, but he was excited. It would be their first night together, living as a couple. He'd been driven to distraction, thinking about her lips all day.
Such soft, lush, rose lips brushing against his…
Erik shook the vision of their embrace out of his mind. He could not push her into his bed- Christine, for all her strength, was still delicate. Erik knew that if he pushed her too far, too fast, she could snap. Better to take things as slow as he could; Erik did not mind, in fact he would relish the chance to build the trust and anticipation. There was no telling what adventures were in store for them.
He'd called Claudette periodically throughout the day, simply checking on their progress though he needn't have bothered. He had been the one to sign the post slip and receive the bags and packages sent to his loft from nearly every chic shop in the city. Erik didn't know why he should be surprised.
Claudette's fashionable instincts coupled with his money could be a dangerous mix.
That he'd handed Christine over as a doll to be dressed could only add to the appeal for Claudette's senses. Christine to her was a blank canvas, and Claudette was nothing if not an artist.
He had not peeked into the bags and packages as they were sent to his home; Erik had no interest in women's clothes, he instead felt happy to be surprised. Even the provocative La Perla labels had not been enough to tempt him to look inside- he'd much rather have Christine wear the dainty things for him, but again, he would not push her.
Erik did not mind, he had a few more surprises to present to Christine.
With that thought, his telephone rang. He checked the number and felt the corner of his mouth tilt up in a half-smile. "Have you got them?" he asked upon answering.
"Yes, sir. Just arrived," the voice answered. Erik was speaking to another one of his 'friendly employees'. Maron Jones was an up and coming on the international trading end of Erik's dealings. His specialty was in the European import business, hence the reason Erik had called for his assistance.
"And how are they?"
Maron laughed a bit at that. "Beautiful, fantastic finds, Erik. I'm coming up your block just now."
Erik nodded. "Good man. I'll alert the front desk to allow you to come up," Erik thought twice. "Or, rather, I'll meet you in the lobby and bring them up myself."
"Whatever works for you, I'll be waiting."
They severed the connection and Erik rose from his sofa, stifling a yawn. His eyes drifted to the windows where he could see the sky was swiftly shifting to dusk. Claudette would bring Christine home soon.
Home, what a thought!
He secured a mask over the scarred side of his face and took the elevator down to the lobby, hoping that Claudette would dally with Christine a little longer. It would ruin everything if they should both stride into the lobby and see the surprise before the time was right.
"Erik, over here!"
Erik turned and moved towards Maron, who was just making his way towards the center of the lobby. The younger man had an unruly mop of sandy brown curls atop his head, a slight tan and laughing brown eyes. There had once been a time when Erik would have felt a surge of jealousy towards him, but Erik had Christine now; how could he feel jealous of any man when the only jewel of the city was with him?
True happiness was alien to him, but Erik found he enjoyed it immensely.
Maron came close, holding a large cardboard box. Erik raised his brow, "Is that it, then?"
The younger man nodded and set the box on one of the decorative central tables. "Yes, sir. Have a look,"
Maron lifted the lid and Erik looked inside. He turned to Maron, nodding quickly. "Right, everything seems to be in order. Have you got the other…?"
Maron nodded. "Of course, we both know my career was riding on this," he said with a laugh.
Erik smirked. "More that your career, my friend. Now, show it to me, please," he implored, very eager.
Maron smiled and slipped a long, narrow carved wooden case from his breast pocket. He handed it to Erik, who opened it promptly and smiled at the necklace inside.
"Now, this was not so easy to get a hold of. It's a wonderful piece, one of a kind, really. You have a wonderful eye to the details. If I may say…" Maron hesitated as Erik lifted the chain from its case and had a proper look at it.
"If you may say…what, exactly, Maron?" Erik replaced the necklace and turned to him.
The young man shifted slightly, smiling. "Your lady will be very pleased tonight, as I expect that you will be as well."
Erik reigned in the instinct to strike the boy down for such a remark. His private sex life was no one's business, though he supposed that Maron knew well enough of Erik's reputation. Where jewelry was involved, as was a woman.
"Thank you, Maron, that will be all," he clipped abruptly, slipping the case into his breast pocket and taking up the box from the table.
He did not spare the man another look as he stalked over towards the elevator bank.
Erik returned to his apartment and placed the box down on the floor in the kitchen. Christine and Claudette would be back soon, and he could not deny the eagerness that lit up within him at the thought. Christine was his now, right where she should be- safe and secure with him.
May had once accused him of taking his shine to Christine simply because he knew that she was lost. She's said that Erik liked to play the hero, and that had been the only reason for his attraction.
Erik had to admit that part of what May had said was the truth. He did appreciate the masculine triumph of claiming Christine as his own in this way, by having her come into his home, under his protection. However, in their time together Erik had grown to enjoy Christine's company far too much to let her go. He enjoyed her insights and arguments.
She was certainly more intelligent than May or even he himself had given her credit for at first. Erik had quickly found that there was a surprise around every corner with Christine. He didn't know if he loved her, but Erik happily admitted that he felt more deeply for her than he had for any other woman. Love was an intangible, alien thing; he didn't know love, but he thought it might occur to him naturally if given enough time, and that he would know it when he felt it.
Meanwhile, Erik dialed his office secretary and left a message that she contact an interior decorator at her earliest convenience. The guest room as it was now was very bland. When he'd moved in, Erik hadn't had much use for the room, and so he'd tried to decorate it himself. It had been a half-finished project that he'd long since given up on when he'd met and began courting Adele; a beautiful, direct woman, she had been adamant to take over by ordering new sheets and window dressings, but their relationship had ended before she'd been able to put her special touch into effect.
No matter.
The guest room belonged to Christine now, and it was hers to decorate as she saw fit. He wondered about her style, the choices she would make now that she had such resources available to her. He would surrender control to her, but Erik prayed that allowing her this freedom would not result in hot pink wallpaper.
There was only so much a man could take, after all.
He sat back on the sofa after starting a fire. Glancing at the windows, he saw that snow was again beginning to fall in a blanket over the city. He smiled lightly and yawned. Stretching his arms overhead, his muscles were liquid, Erik felt almost catlike. Or, he preferred, leonine.
Much more fitting and proper.
He heard the doorknob and turned around, rising to meet his lady. Claudette stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She was alone. Erik frowned, "Where is she?"
The trim redhead scoffed at him lightly. "Erik! You would ask that question. Americans. No love for presentation, too eager for the payoff. Go wait in the kitchen."
"What? Why should I wai-"
Claudette started towards him and Erik smiled indulgently, allowing her to grip his arm and pull him towards the kitchen. "You will wait in the kitchen because there is only one chance to render you, the great Erik Latour, completely speechless! Now, you wait here and let me arrange her."
Erik rolled his eyes. "Arrange her? She's not a geranium, Clauddie."
She frowned at him. "You know I hate that ridiculous nickname,"
"Have I told you today how charming you look when you pout?"
She swatted his arm, "Stop that flirting, Erik. You are not a free man anymore, do you remember?"
He nodded. "Of course I remember. She means the world to me, now go on with you, and I'll not leave the kitchen until you give me the word."
Erik thought that this was all very stupid, truly childish, but for Claudette's sake, he would play into her game. All the better that he might be alone with Christine. Claudette nodded, and went off into the living room. He could hear frantic female whispering, along with the shuffle of feet.
He rolled his eyes. Women and their games!
Claudette called out to him, in French. "Erik, come out and see her. Give me a call tomorrow!"
He heard the door open and then quickly close. Finally, they were alone.
Erik hadn't known quite what to expect, but upon seeing Christine, he stopped short and allowed his eyes to drink in the sight before him. She was standing beside the sofa, staring at him with wide, deep eyes of indigo. Erik's lips parted but he made no sound. Christine mirrored his movement; the lush petals of her mouth parted slightly, but her voice was silent. She raised her chin, exposing more of the long line of her throat.
With immense will, Erik broke his eyes from her gaze to take in the rest of her lean body. Gone were the worn-out, threadbare sweaters and faded jeans; Claudette had done her job very well, as he knew she would. Christine wore a blouse of what could only be silk the shade of deep forest jade. The shirt dipped low in the front to afford him a mere glimpse of her full breasts, and hugged her waist wonderfully. The jeans she wore, designer, Erik knew, were the darkest wash denim, sitting tastefully low on her hips and flaring slightly at the ankles.
She was still wearing the borrowed stilettos.
Christine moved suddenly, bringing her hands together before her, wringing them nervously. She turned her face away. Erik stepped forward, and crossed the room. He did not pause until he'd come into her intimate space. Tentatively, he lifted his hand to rest over her shoulder, while the other moved to span across the small of her back. He brought her towards him, those last precious inches, until her body was against his.
His embrace was lingering and very strong. The scent of honey and vanilla blossom reached him; Erik lifted a lock of her hair and brought it closer to his nose. He inhaled deeply. Pure.
Her hair was soft and slippery in his hand, vaguely reminding him of a strip of satin cloth. Erik drew back and cupped Christine's cheek, lifting her eyes to meet his. She smiled at him nervously and was nibbling on her bottom lip.
Erik kissed her softly, thrilled to feel her lips move to meet his. When they parted, the girl was positively glowing with embarrassed color in her cheeks. "Why so shy tonight, Christine? You look wonderful."
She laughed timidly. "I…I just, I'm not used to any of this."
Erik's brow furrowed. "Any of what?"
Christine shrugged and gestured with her hand. "This! The fancy apartment and the clothes and…and the respect, Erik. Claudette took me to all these places and the salesgirls were falling all over themselves just to help me find a pair of shoes, it's unreal!"
Erik clearly did not understand, but he held her tighter.
Christine took a deep breath and leaned her cheek over Erik's shoulder. She kissed the side of his nice. "You don't know what this has been like for me, like a dream come true! I feel like an overnight princess. One day I was nothing and today, here I am because of you,"
Erik kissed her cheek. "I'm glad that you're happy, and I do understand what it's like, to go from being ignored and punished for things beyond your control, to suddenly having people take notice and treat you as a man…or, woman," he added, off her look. Erik shook his head. "Leave the past behind, where it belongs, and don't bother yourself about it anymore. Look to the future, it will only get better,"
Christine smiled against his mouth as she moved in to kiss him. "Is that a promise?"
She felt something cold on her chest, so cold that gooseflesh erupted over her body. Erik laughed as she glanced down to the necklace he'd just secured over her throat. "It's a promise, sealed with a kiss," he said, and kissed her.
Erik released Christine and she went to a newly purchased mirror he'd had mounted on the wall beside his fireplace. He tried not to laugh as he heard her gasp once she saw the necklace. It was a stunning sapphire pendant on a thin silver chain. Christine brought a hand to her mouth as she admired it in the reflection.
"Oh, God, Erik…it's…"
He moved behind her and she watched him in the mirror. Bright, fire-gold eyes bore into hers through the glass. Transfixed, she watched as his fingertips grazed over her shoulders, coming together over her collarbones, the barest hint of a caress in his touch. One hand moved down, following the trail of the chain. He fingered the blue jewel that rested over her chest, and he smiled.
"Do you like it?"
"It's too much, Erik, I can't accept this-"
He shook his head. "You can, it is a gift to you. One of many. Please sit down, I have one more thing in store for tonight."
"Erik, you can't keep giving me things," Christine protested as she took a seat on the sofa, nearest to the heat of the fireplace.
The man shrugged. "And why not? You are with me, aren't you?"
She nodded, "Oh, yes, but that doesn't mean that you have to keep giving me things. I'm with you because I want to be," she asserted, touching his hand.
He covered her hand with his own, and smiled lightly. "Christine, let me spoil you just a little more, eh? Stay here, and let me fetch your last gifts for tonight."
Erik turned to go back into the kitchen, but what for Christine had no idea. She stared into the dancing flames for a moment before looking out the windows to see the snow flurries rush to cover the city. She used the time that Erik was gone to wonder, how in the hell have I gotten so lucky?
Here was Erik, a brilliant, wonderful man and for no reason that Christine could ever hope to understand, he wanted her. He'd sent her out to spend the day shopping and handed her a lush necklace the moment she stepped in the door, and now, another surprise! Christine had forgotten what it could be like, how addicting it was, to be spoiled.
It felt to her that no one had given her thoughts and feelings much notice since she had run from the only home she'd known since the death of her father. Raoul had been very good to her, but it had been Christine's shame that had driven her to run from him.
No, don't think of all that now. Erik was right- leave the past behind…
Still, she couldn't understand why Erik had gone to such lengths to prove himself. Was it his habit to be so generous to his women? Did he feel that he had to spoil her just to keep her with him? She touched the side of her own face, a smooth, perfect match to the opposite side, and she thought about Erik and the hidden, massive insecurity he must go through everyday.
Christine felt in that moment that she could very well hate Erik's mother as much as she hated her own. It was the negligence and madness of their mothers that had marked them for life, both physically and mentally.
She turned and jumped out of surprise from the quick movements on the floor. Two round puppies had just run into the room, sniffing at everything, and were heading straight towards her!
Christine's darker thoughts melted away immediately, and she moved from the sofa to kneel on the floor. Delighted baby-talk leapt from her throat, urging them to come closer.
The pups ran over, sniffing cautiously, before leaping into her lap. "Oh, Erik, they're adorable," Christine cried out happily. He stood over them, pleased to see Christine happy with these new additions to their home.
One pup was a pure, fluffy white, the female, and decidedly smaller than the other. The second pup had a mixed coat of dark brown and jet black fur, a male that was easily twice the size of the first. Both the pups were eager for more of Christine's attention as she stroked and cuddled them on the floor.
"Erik, they're so beautiful! What are their names?" She asked, laughing a little as the white pup licked her neck.
Erik came to kneel down on the floor beside her, and he held out a hand. Immediately, the darker pup came to greet him with a lick and a gentle nip of his pointed baby teeth to Erik's fingertips.
"They were only delivered today,"
Christine raised an eyebrow as the white pup squirmed in her lap. "Delivered?"
He nodded. "Yes, special European imports. They are not from the same litter, though their breeds are nearly one and the same. This fellow, here," Erik stroked the dark pup, "He is a King Shepherd, while she is a white German Shepherd. Wonderful dogs, these. I had one while I was growing up."
Christine smiled, laughing. "Why did you import them from Europe? Don't you think that's going a little far? If you wanted a dog you could've just gone to the city pound."
The man shrugged beside her and nodded. "I could do that. One of the charities I host does go towards the animal services department, but for us I wanted something a little more special. Besides, Maron was happy to get the assignment."
"Who's Maron?"
"A young man I work with, he's an importer of European goods. The dogs were no trouble, and they're already housebroken." He winked.
Christine threw back her head and laughed. "You do think of everything, don't you?"
"I try."
"Have you thought of names?"
The darker pup nipped at Erik's hands. "Well, you can name the white anything you please, but this little man has earned the name King."
"King? Even though he's a King Shepherd?"
Erik smiled. "I never said I was a poet. He will grow to be enormous. Trust me, King is the perfect name for the beast he'll become." He nodded towards the white pup that had finally settled down in her lap. "And your she-wolf?"
Christine glanced out the window at the flurries and then back down to her puppy. "How about Snow?"
"Snow and King. Very fitting, I think." Erik smiled and leaned over to kiss her.
Her lips brushed against his, blissfully full and soft.
Erik closed his eyes in pleasure as the scalding water pounded the muscles of his upper and lower back. Here it was, Saturday night and he was having a night in; he didn't mind, he was not and never had been one for constant, exhaustive city entertainment. For years after he'd made his fortunes and earned the respect so aptly deserved, Erik had enjoyed his status on his own.
He was no recluse- he did go out often enough, but on the whole he could usually be found reading, writing or working in the late night hours.
This was a lifestyle he'd maintained for years- expensive and high-profile despite his personal isolation. Women had come and gone over the years, many of whom he had enjoyed greatly and still kept in touch with, but none had struck him with a longing for permanence, for something more.
Christine, Erik adored her! Now that he had freed her from her desperate obligations and taken her into his home, he felt confident that they would soon enjoy each other fully.
At the moment, Christine was in her room, sorting out the mountains of shopping that Claudette had had sent to the apartment. She threw up her hands- how had they done so much damage in one afternoon?!
Erik hadn't said a word about it, only to mention to her that he'd placed her bags in the guest room. Christine had nearly choked when she'd seen the bags and packages littering the floor and completely hiding the bed.
He'd only laughed at her when she'd apologized and said she'd return everything in the morning. Even now, she still had trouble believing in his genuine generosity. She would have to learn to accustom herself in time.
Erik had left her and the puppies to sort out the boxes and bags, going off to take a shower and change his clothes. He figured that they would stay up for a while more, talking and kissing. Erik wouldn't mind a bit more than kissing, but he knew her situation and wouldn't dream of pushing her for more than she was willing to give.
He hated her past with a staggering degree of fury; the rage he'd felt upon reading her police files had been enough to make him both dizzy and nauseous. There was a hole in the wall behind the mirror he'd hung beside the fireplace, the result of an angry fist.
Erik would happily pull the plug on Christine's mother and let the pathetic wretch flatline into Hell, but then the girl would be so upset.
Erik couldn't understand why.
In the carefully detailed reports that Erik had been given, Christine's mother, Rebecca, had claimed Christine to be a liar in the days after the…incident. She stood by her man, the sickening Michael Downs. Monster. Yes, Rebecca had chosen the believe the word of a loathsome, abusive, rapist over the word of her only child.
And the reward for her loyalty?
To be beaten within an inch of her life! With fists and heavily booted feet, with a hammer, Rebecca had nearly been beaten to death, but it had been Christine that had found her, and called the medics.
Erik would not say that Christine had saved her life- what sort of life was it to spends months upon months in a coma?
Perhaps he was a cold bastard, but if it had been him, Erik might have happily sat back and watched as the woman's blood loss and brain trauma took its toll, and then made the move to call a morgue once it was too late for medics. Then again, Erik was inclined to protect Christine in any way he could and if it had been in his power, he never would have allowed anything to have ever happened to her in the first place.
He glanced down to find that his hands were clenched into powerful fists. He had killed Michael Downs in a number of ways already in his daydreams, but none were so sweet as the thought of simply punching the man until his face became nothing more than a smear of hot blood and bone.
Erik turned around and let the burning water blast over his face. It felt very good, and he tried not to think of revenge for Christine any more. All of that would come in time, for now he only wished to change into more casual clothing and curl before the fire with Christine in his arms. She did fit him rather well.
He turned the faucets, killing the hot water flow, and he stepped out of the shower. Taking a towel off the rack, Erik secured it around his waist and rubbed the water from his eyes.
Erik left the bathroom, intent to go into the closet for his robe, but he froze with only one foot over the threshold to his bedroom. Christine was lounging on his bed, naked, waiting for him.