As soon as we were settled from our journey, Erik brought the usual vat of hot water to my room, insisting that the soak would benefit my nerves. And then to my surprise, he leaned over and kissed me gently on the cheek before saying good night. I would have celebrated the fact had I not felt so guilty for my deception.

I was especially anticipating my nightly ritual as I felt extremely hot and sticky from the exertions of this evening. As I undressed, I noticed a bottle of perfume on the armoire. Perhaps just a little touch of it in my bath would make me feel better and cleanse me of the smell of the city.

My muscles gradually relaxed as I reclined down into the deep vat. Even if I wasn't truly suffering from a nervous condition, the day had been taxing as indeed all of my days had been ever since the quarrel with Erik about Christine. Although I had not accomplished what I had set out to do, at least he and I were speaking again. That was encouraging.

I couldn't help but smile at how attentive, sweet and caring he had been with me tonight. If only he would be that way more often. But I could spend the whole night dwelling on 'if only'.

I poured a small amount of perfume into the tub. Gardenias! God's nightgown, would I never escape that woman? Still, the scent was pleasant enough, I supposed.

Christine de Chagny was a fool. Oh, she was lovely and talented and pleasant, but a fool nonetheless. The way she had constantly referred to Erik as a creature and a monster and what not. The underlying contempt in her voice when she described him offended me. Didn't she appreciate how he had risked his life time and again to make her a renowned opera star? Didn't she value his intelligence and skill?

But perhaps I was being unfair to her. After all, I had only seen Erik unmasked that one time at the opera. And even then, it was from a distance. I did not know the true horror of what was behind his mask nor did I want to know. In truth, there were two things that I tried to avoid thinking about where Erik was concerned: his disfigurement and his alleged crimes.

I had still not resolved my own feelings about his criminality. If the stories were true, then not only were Joseph Buquet and Ubaldo Piangi killed by the Phantom but also the people in the chandelier incident. I just couldn't seem to wrap my mind around that knowledge. But the stories were probably all fact. Why, he practically admitted as much to me the night we met. Back then, I was willing to overlook those crimes in order to work with him. Why were they bothering me now?

Oh, well, I didn't want to think about unpleasant matters tonight. I just wanted to enjoy my bath in peace. As I inhaled deeply of the perfumed scent, I felt strangely giddy. And my skin felt all soft and creamy to the touch. Well, Christine had good taste in perfume at any rate, I thought as I poured a bit more into the water.

Try as I might to put it all out of my mind, my conversation with Christine kept repeating over and over in my head. I couldn't help but remember how she expressed her distaste of Erik's song that he had written for her, how she had been so terrified at the 'mad passion' in his eyes. Why, in her own way, she was just as cold and untouchable to Erik as he usually was to me. A beautiful virtuous princess made of ice. Why, if only I had been in her position…

There I go daydreaming again, I scolded to myself. It was no use ruminating on what would never be. I could wish that I were Christine until the cows came home and it would not matter. I could wish that Erik would worship me the way that he did her and it would not matter. All I could hope for was that Erik would have enough respect for our opera not to make a disaster out of it with his mad obsession. After all, if he truly wanted Christine to have her shining moment, he would not jeopardize that.

When I arose from the tub, I nearly fell over with an attack of dizziness. Oh, how I had worn myself out with all of my scheming!

I dried myself off and slipped into my cotton nightgown. But I found that I couldn't bear my nightgown tonight. The material was too scratchy on my skin and I was insufferably warm. Searching in the closet, I found a red satin exotic-looking kimono with a flowered print, apparently one of Christine's opera costumes. Much as it irked me to wear any of her clothes, it looked cool and thin and soft, just what I needed tonight. It felt heavenly as I slipped it on, tying the robe closed with a makeshift sash that I had also found. Studying myself in the mirror, I did appear fairly risqué as it was so thin it left little to the imagination, but after all I was only going to wear it to sleep in.

I closed my eyes, falling asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Something awoke me.

I saw only Erik's face and mask by the candlelight. He was standing right by my bed.

Clothed as I was in my thin kimono, I was sure that I was displayed most indecently. Yet despite my best efforts, I could not seem to move my limbs as they were so heavy. I was truly not myself.

"Erik," I strained out a whisper. Even speaking required great effort. "What do you want?"

"We both know what I want, don't we, my clever conniving little cat?"

And then I felt the sensation of his hand stroking my bare thigh in the dark.

My heart raced!

My trust in exchange for yours. He must have found out about my ruse! And our deal was broken! And now the Phantom of the Opera would make me pay for my deception in flesh!