Hello fellow readers! Here is chapter 8. Masks are starting to fall in this chapter, and not the one you might be expecting. Be aware that there are some allusions to sexual and violent situations. It's not explicit but still, it's better that you know.

Hope you'll like this chapter, please leave a review if you have any thoughts and comments.

Enjoy!

They hadn't uttered a word on the way back to Hortense's mansion. Once there, she waived at her governess to retire for the night after bringing her some wine and whisky.

Erik was studying every little object and details of the decoration in her living room, feeling quite disturbed to be in the same room as her and not really sure of what they would discuss while having a drink. The room was richly decorated and it was done with a lot of taste, she was definitely the daughter of an architect he thought.

She was moving a few books from the coffee table to a little writing desk from the Napoleon I era, he looked at her from the corner of his eyes as if he wanted to pierce the mystery she embodied. A few seconds later her governess brought back a bottle of red wine and Scottish whiskey. She quickly dismissed Amaia and went to pour the alcohol herself. Erik's eyes widened when he saw her filling the glass of wine far above the accepted level. She would down the bottle in less than three glasses he calculated. He said nothing and accepted his glass of whiskey, reasonably filled, and sat on the couch she showed him.

"To a newfound adulthood in our neighbourhood", she said with a smile, clinging her glass with him. When she smiled the opening of her lips showed white and regular teeth that Erik found very pleasant to look at. He took a sip to chase those weird thoughts away.

"You're not at ease." She stated, plunging her tingling eyes in his icy stare.

"I am not one for idle chat Madame."

"Hortense… Please I hate to be reminded that I use to be married when I am at home. I try my best to make Amaia call me by my first name but it seems that it will never penetrate her mind."

"Hortense… Why such a French name for one that comes from Italy?"

"Oh, that's because my mother was French. She was an Opera singer and went to Italy to make a career, which she managed pretty well for she was the first mezzo at the Teatro della Pergola until her death in 1859. I was twelve, and my father decided he couldn't stay in Florence without her and would go to the city where she was from to pay his respect to her family. That's when we travelled to Marseille… I… Well it was not an easy time for me, but it started to get better when we arrived in Biarritz two years later…" She started to say before taking a long sip of wine.

"Your mother was an opera singer; can you sing?" He asked, gradually getting more interested by his unshakeable neighbour. She let a tinkling laugh escape her mouth and said:

"I used to sing a bit with my mother when I was very young but I don't really have a talent for that, I can sing in tune but my voice is very… Well disappointingly humdrum for one with such a mother. It seems that apart from my mother's looks, I unfortunately took the rest from my father. I love music though; it has always held a special place in my heart. My guess is that you must like music very much to have picked up on that specific part of my.. Well my tale. You were tuning your piano when I first met you weren't you?"

"I was." He said, remembering how he had wanted to kick her out of his house that day. "I… I am a musician before even being an architect. I used to… Well to compose at an opera house. Music is the very essence of my life."

"Well, that is good to have a talk between adults wasn't it? I would never had thought we could find some common grounds, it's great. Where were you working and what did you do?"

He downed his drink, trying to calm himself as he felt the stress come back and threatening his apparent peace of mind.

"I would rather not talk about it Madame."

"Back to Madame I see… Well sorry for offending you I only wanted to learn more about you." She snapped.

"I am a very secretive man, I have not had an easy life and I would like to avoid re-opening some recent wounds." He said with a dark voice as he looked at her pour herself another large glass of wine and fill his own.

"I see, I see… Well we're still making progress; you didn't try to attack me yet." She said with a smile as she waived her glass at him. She was jesting he knew, testing him. He had learnt his lesson and would not answer to her provocations anymore.

"I am surprised you didn't throw me out yet Hortense, if this night has to end in a blood bath I won't be the one starting it."

"Well I still care to see tomorrow morning so I'll let you chose what you wish to tell me and what you don't monsieur de Raincourt. But may I dare to say that I still hope you'll tell me how you came to come back as the Raincourt heir after all these years."

"All in good times. I would disappoint you had I answered each of your questions at once. Curiosity killed the cat and even if my mood is lighter than usual I would advise you not to play with fire too much." He said as a warning as he was starting to be annoyed by her intrusive questions.

She smiled and finished her glass. She felt the vapours of the wine playing with her mind and even if she enjoyed teasing him she realised that he might not be ready yet to her insisting character. She didn't know why she was enjoying herself so much, trying to see through this mysterious dark stranger. She stayed silent for a while as she saw him get ill at ease again, she observed him as he released the pressure of his tie. He had long fingers and powerful hands, she wondered how it would feel if he passed them through her long locks. She blinked, Jesus she was drunk, she had to talk to stay away from those thoughts.

"Well, hum, as I said the cat is happy to stay well and alive. Can I call you Erik though? It just feels strange that I call you monsieur and you call me Hortense."

"Sure…"

"Well, Erik, I realise I am a terrible host, not only is your glass empty but also I am making you feel uncomfortable."

"I have had enough of whiskey for tonight mada… Hortense."

"Oh… How you must see me know, almost downing a bottle of wine for myself..."

"I am not one to judge." He stated, back to his calm mood. However, he felt quite worried for her, she was obviously starting to be drunk and he felt like she was not a stranger to this state.

On her side, even with her mind blurred Hortense was angry at herself, how could she show herself in this state of drunkenness to a man that she hated. Did she really hate him? Well she did at first, but now she was intrigued and she didn't know why but even if she claimed the contrary, she almost trusted him. And she had no idea why… Well she thought she did, she felt he had suffered a lot, maybe even more than she had. She felt she could tell him and he would not judge her. Maybe he would understand her, and, as much as this thought would have made her puke a week ago, she felt very similar to him. Could she? Of course she could, but she shouldn't. She knew she would regret it when sober again. But right now she wanted it so much; she wanted him to take her in those strong arms that she had witnessed earlier this morning. She wanted to discover what it meant to make love to someone you're attracted to. Erh, but she would not have sex with him. First of all because it was not proper, secondly because she needed him in control, and once she'd cross this line, she would be the one under his spell. Not that… Oh it was spinning, she had to talk and move.

"I have a piano, would you play something for me?" Erik's was surprised, indeed he had witnessed the woman's eyes going through many different emotional states and he would have expected her to say many things but not that.

"I… I guess I could." He answered. She raised up, surprisingly without losing her balance and started walking to a place in the living room that he couldn't see. He followed her and saw her sitting on the edge of a bench facing a beautiful grand piano, her cheeks pink with the alcohol. He walked around the bench and sat on the other side, his thigh brushing against her dress. God why did she have to sit that close! He started to play at once to stop thinking about her proximity, his mind was full of questions and he was feeling tense, tense on a way he had not been before. He played the piano version of Dona Anna's most famous aria in Mozart's Don Giovanni. Seductive and tormented, the way he felt right now. He had wished to play this while hearing to Christine sing it. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it was her next to him. He could almost feel her touch on his shoulder, oh Christine, she had played with his heart and now was playing with his senses. The aria was coming to an end, and he felt a caress down to the middle of his back that made his eyes snap opened. He stopped playing and turned his head to meet Hortense's gaze. It was not his senses, she had been massaging his shoulders while he was playing and she was definitely not Christine. How could he have thought?

"Sorry I… I thought you looked tensed. It… It was beautiful, I had never heard it played this way before, it was… Passionate." She had breathed the last one as she let herself fall back on the bench. Erik felt she was tormented.

"Are you feeling alright, I think you should have some rest, you…"

"I know, I am drunk. It happens more often than you could think you know." Oh shit she had said it. Well she had rubed his back too. She should go to bed; he was right but… "I found that being drunk helps you know… It would make me forget the pain, and well, just forget. That's all I wanted: forget. When he was putting his disgusting hands over my body, when he was violating my mouth with his repulsive tongue… When… Oh god, no matter how much I drink, I still remember. He was so heavy, so fat, so old. He disgusted me. I was ruined when he first touched me, I felt dirty, I felt I shouldn't live anymore… Even if he was not doing it that often… Still it ruined me every time. I was 20 and 9 months old when I learnt I would get married to him on my 21st birthday… It was terrible. And the following year was what hell could be like if I ever end up there. I felt God had heard my desperate cries when he suffered a stroke and stayed paralyzed enough not to… Well anyway. I have spoken too much. That's why I usually drink alone and avoid social receptions on the evening. He destroyed my life. My father destroyed my innocence, you'll know that next time he'll give you some work, you'll look into his eyes for me and remember what I've told you…"

She stifled a sob. He was not ready for what she had just told him. Poor woman, full of live but so broken… Was it compassion he felt? Maybe she was not as strong as she wanted to show everyone. She had found her way to cope and take her revenge on life, but she had not yet gotten rid of her demons. He didn't know what to say, no one had ever confided in him before. At least no one had ever thrown at him that quantity of emotion. He was lost, how does someone normal react to that? He had learnt a lot with Jeanne but he had never fully confided in her, she knew more than most, but not enough to have helped him on that aspect. So he answered with the only thing he was sure would not sound odd: music. He played Liszt's Sospiro. A beautiful and sad flow of piano notes that talked more than a thousand words.

When he finished the piece, he closed the piano and looked at Hortense whose cheeks where glowing from the tears that were overflowing her eyes. She passed her arms around his back and pulled him in a hug. He was still not familiar with physical contact and did not return the embrace, too shocked by the emotional outburst of a woman he had thought a viper less than twenty-four hours ago.

She released a bit of pressure and was now facing him, but a bit too close to his liking. He felt petrified. He couldn't help a quick glance to her parted lips already moistened by tears. He felt her breath on his mouth, she smelled a mix of wine and cinnamon. The next second, his brain had stopped working. She had closed the small gap between their faces and was now moving her lips over his closed ones.

She had no idea what she was doing and felt in a kind of trance. When he had started to play, she had stopped thinking, her emotions had taken over her control. She raised her hands to the back of his head and caressed his smooth hair while she sought entrance of his mouth with her tongue. Eventually something switched in him and he grabbed her in his arms, pressing her hard against his body and responding to her kiss with passion. He left her mouth to press kisses down her jawline while his hands travelled down her back to her waist. He wanted more, more than her corset pressed against his chest. He wanted to cover her breasts with hot kisses he… What? No. He stopped at once and recoiled from her, putting an end to the spell that had been cast over them.

"No." He said out of breath. "You need to go to bed, you're drunk you don't know what you're doing, kissing a monster. I… I am sorry, thank you for your hospitality, I must take my leave." He ran away from the living room and in a split second she was all alone again.

What had happened? She was lost, she was drunk with wine and desire, how could have she wanted to do such a thing? But… But it was so different from what she had known so far. He had been gentle and his kisses had not been slimy like the slug she had for a husband, it was soft and intoxicating. She had never felt that way before, was it the alcohol? No… Not just the alcohol, if not her life would have been much easier before. She had wanted him so much, had he too? Well he had just left her after their kiss. He must have realised what he had just done, why had she told him of her past experience he must have thought her frigid and soiled, she must have disgusted him. She started to cry again as she laid down the couch, too tired to go into her bed. She would never be able to know what it felt to be loved as a woman, it was too late for her now. She was a lost case. But the music… It had been so gentle, so soothing. Her mind was sinking under a wave of contradictory emotions: hope, sorrow, desire, disgust… She did the only thing that she could do now: she cried herself to sleep.

No Erik, why did you leave? Poor Hortense...

Any thoughts? Happy to hear them!

Until the next chapter...

TBC