Shade: I'm telling you right now, I needed tissues while I was writing this. So all of you who said you've been crying so far: get the tissues. I am fairly certain you'll need them.
"For either way you choose, you cannot win!" –Track Down This Murderer
Chapter 17: Two Hearts as One
After the opera's last performance, its success was manifested largely in the foyer, where a celebration beyond my wildest expectations was held. Champagne, wine, escargot, and steak tar tar were being served in large amounts to all the company.
Regrettably, I was instructed to appear as a proper and wealthy Parisian lady wound; and so I wore a dress made by the lead seamstress. I found the garment rather charming actually.
It was a long blue taffeta dress that had lace flounces under the tight cream-colored corset, on which lay my damned chastity beads. My shoulders, much to the dismay of most, were left bare to the winter wind. There were two cream white straps of soft, diaphanous cloth draped around the upper part of my arms, a very feminine and vulnerable looking garment, which greatly contrasted the power hidden behind my devious eyes. Some one once told me that if you look innocent, it is far harder to be accused of any wrongdoings. After murdering Khortdad, I had found this to be true.
I was in front of the mirror, examining the way my wig had been styled. It was styled so that my hair was pulled back severely, only leaving a small chignon to brush the nape of my neck. A few tight curls spiraled down my back and down the side of my face, caressing my high cheekbones. If my hair were real, I would imagine the style would be excruciatingly painful, as it required the scalp to be pulled every which way.
I applied my makeup in front of the mirror, taking care to use neutral colors, wanting my true beauty appear to be thus. Once I had finished my preparations, I walked with graceful elegance down to the foyer, my neck arched as eloquently as a swan's. It was imperative that I look delicate and refined; first impressions were everything.
Upon entering the festivity, I was met with the face of Jean Lamarier, his smile wide with glee. Beyond him, many nobles peered up at me, raw desire in their eyes. I turned my attention back to Jean, whose glance was slightly less hungry.
"Hello Jean," I cooed seductively. "My my, don't you look full of mirth this evening."
Jean bowed to me, his smile never waning. "Good evening, my fair Nasrin. You were sublime tonight. Please forgive me for my inexcusable conduct earlier; I truly meant no harm."
I smiled warmly, hiding the emptiness in my eyes. "I realize; forgive me for losing my temper with you, it was important that I understood. I have come to the conclusion that you were right. I am no longer bound to Erik; I am a free Mademoiselle."
It was time to move on . . . despite how hard my heart beat against it.
"What inspired you to change your mind so quickly, Mademoiselle?" he asked politely.
My eyes found the marble floor and I gnawed on my lip. I was unsure whether to bare the entire truth. I sighed, realizing that I had no other choice; Jean would conjecture that I would never leave Erik. "He . . . he told me that he no longer wanted me as a wife," I answered softly, fighting back tears.
"I can not see a reason why he would relinquish such a wonder." He paused to scrutinize me and I sighed, giving up. "You look absolutely ethereal tonight, Mademoiselle."
I bowed her head appreciatively and stared deeply into his gray eyes, which sparkled with something I dreaded to call desire. "Thank you, Jean."
A waiter walked by with a tray of bubbling champagne glasses. Jean gracefully grabbed two glasses, handing one to me, a smile on his lips. As I reached out to grasp the chalice, he moved himself closer to me until our bodies were pressed against each other's. I quickly took the glass from his hand and sipped it before he could kiss me.
"Will you come to the rooftop with me?" he asked, giving me wanted space and extending his arm, still smiling. I vaguely wondered how he could possibly smile so much. It seemed inhuman.
"If you so desire me to," I answered smoothly, wrapping my arm around his gently. I did not want to give him so much contact. We quietly fled the party to the more secluded and romantic rooftop. I felt alone even with Jean beside me as I gazed into the black infinity before me.
I looked around the rooftop, smiling slightly as snowflakes began to tumble from the heavens. The cold air bit at my exposed flesh and I shivered slightly, unaccustomed to living in such climates. As I turned to face Jean, I found him smiling at me, a radiance of nothing short of adoration glowing in his normally stoic eyes. I felt uneasy and decided it was best to ease the tension that festered between us.
"Why have you asked me here? The party didn't cause much noise. Is there something you wish to speak with me about?"
Jean sighed deeply and his foggy breath dissipated in gray tendrils. "I . . . actually . . . I mean I wanted to . . ."
"Do not stammer or I shan't take you seriously," I remarked playfully, still intent on lightening the mood.
Jean approached me timidly, and I saw in his eyes that a disapproving reaction would spell certain death. He knelt before me, bowing his head for a moment. Oh no . . . he couldn't possibly . . . he wouldn't actually . . . is he serious?
"Jean, what is the meaning of this gesture?" I asked, already having a feeling of what it would mean.
Jean smiled uncertainly at me and pulled from his pocket a velvet black box. I felt my breath flee my lungs and I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Nasrin Khanum . . . would you consider becoming Comtess de Lamarier?" He opened the box, revealing a startling diamond ring. It glittered in the dim lights from below and my eyes widened.
"You are asking me to become your wife?" I asked numbly.
"Yes, you see, I have been in love with you since I first saw you. I knew from the moment your eyes met mine that nothing you do would ever cease to amaze and intrigue me. You are all I will ever want, Nasrin. Whatever I have, I want to be yours as well. I would do anything for you. Won't you consider?" He held the box closer to me. His eyes were soft and pleading.
Is this what I need to move on? If Jean was the man that lay with me in my dreams, then I must love him someday. But Erik . . . No . . . Erik doesn't love me, he just wants me. Perhaps . . . this was a good idea. It would be best for both Erik and I. Fantasies of what could have been had no place in reality; this was reality, and Jean's proposal was true.
It was imperative that I convince Jean that I loved him, and that I had been waiting for this moment.
I stared at the shimmering offering with a look of pleasant triumph. I smiled at him and offered out my left hand. "Of course I will marry you, Jean." He blissfully slid the ring onto my left ring finger and held my hands in his. His smile widened, if that was even possible.
"Oh my darling, I will make you so very happy," he promised faithfully.
"Dear heart, you already have," I answered back in a brilliant imitation of infatuation.
As Jean moved into kiss me, I threw myself into his arms, showering his face with ardent kisses and laughing as he embraced me, swinging me around before planting a passionate kiss on my lips. I didn't recoil and instead pushed farther against him, my hands resting gently on either side of his head, my fingers entwined with his brown hair. The embrace lasted for what seemed like hours, and when Jean finally drew away, he found me breathless and pale, my heart ripping and tearing my soul to shreds.
"You are looking faint; I'll go get you a glass of cold water. That should awaken your senses. I'll be right back, my love." He kissed me on the cheek before walking back inside, closing the door behind him.
It began to snow harder and the large flakes that touched my flesh melted into shimmering drops of cold water. I hastily stuck my hands inside my white fur muff to keep myself warm. Unfortunately, it was to no avail. I shivered and felt a tangible sense of loneliness began to strangle the vigor out of me.
If it was for the best, why was I hurting so badly?
Why can't I let go?
I sighed and my breath blew out a stream of gray smoke that dipped and twirled in the winter wind. I turned to face the city of Paris, looking down at the activity below.
"My dear, don't you look as though you were née français?" cooed a seductively sweet voice that threatened to usurp my self-control.
"Yes, I was instructed to wear this. A rather lovely garment though, isn't it?" I replied calmly. Realizing who it was that spoke, I turned elegantly on my heels, my features in a state of frozen nobility and a grin of dark desires on my deceptively angelic face. "Hello Erik."
"Hello Nasrin," he whispered, walking towards me slowly, his cape billowing in elegant waves behind him. A beautifully sincere expression marked his otherwise unchanged appearance.
"What are you doing up here?" I asked.
"I came to ask you a question about your suitor, the Comte de Lamarier." He said Jean's title as if it were the name of a dangerous serpent.
"Of course, what is it?" I asked, thinking: suitor no more, my only love. Fiancé.
"Can you honestly say that you love that man? He may be a Comte, but he is a carpenter as well. He would rather pay his creations doting attention than you." His sensual lips curved into a menacing snarl, an insanity intensifying in his narrowed eyes.
"I'd rather him pay wood doting attention than another woman as some one once did," I pointed out. "However, I do not love him, Erik. He is a pawn, nothing more." I shrugged nonchalantly, silently begging him to forgive and take me with him anywhere. "At least he loves me." I walked slowly towards him, my face illuminated by the tender lights from below.
"Don't speak of what is not clear for either of us, Nasrin," he warned. "If he were to propose, would you only marry him for his money? The luxurious title and all it entailed? For if you would, that goes against everything you ever have said to me." Erik looked at me questioningly, his cloak billowing out behind him and his black cravat blending in with the night around them.
I paused as I stood next to him. Dramatically, I turned to him. If he didn't love me, I was doing what is best. If he does love me, I am condemning myself to live in Hell evermore.
"I would rather spend my days with a rich Comte who loves me, as opposed to a social recluse who does not and never will. And as for the loving statements I made to you, keep in mind that I was married to you when I made them. They possessed some substance then." I raised my chin to him defiantly and strode by him, passing him without a second glance, my body the embodiment of beautiful refinery. I was thankful that I could seem so elegant and composed when inside my whole being was a complete wreck.
"You love me?" he conjectured both amazement and hope.
I looked back over my shoulder, my expression furbished with wily confidence. "Did I say that?" I needed him to admit that he loved me before I gave in and admitted to him.
Erik wielded on me in a moment, grabbed me tightly around my waist and pushed me against one of the cold stone Pegasus statues perched atop the roof. I looked up at him with astonishment, my eyes wide with shock at the sudden fluidity of his movements.
"Do you have some baffling fetish with pushing me violently against stone?" I asked coolly, regaining my elegant poise within a matter of seconds. Erik disregarded my comment and looked me sternly in the eye, his blue eyes narrowed in stark intent.
"Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't love me," he commanded, his teeth bared and gritted.
I looked up with dauntless cunning. "Now where is the fun in that?"
Please Erik, by Allah just tell me you love me and I'll never leave you again. That's all you have to say, darling. Three words. Please . . .
"Your games would be gone and I would see what you really wanted," Erik hissed.
I looked up at him and very quietly, I whispered, "I have told you what it is I want from you. If you will not tell me what I need to hear, you must excuse me." I moved to push him away, but he stayed firmly up against me, towering over my form with a glimmer in his eyes I hesitated to call lust.
"No, I will not," he growled seductively, his tone sending chills through my body and shattering the steel with which I had infused my spine. He caressed my cheek softly, his glove hot against my cool flesh. His touch was so gentle, and loving. I began to tremble under his hands. "Now tell me that you don't love me."
I swallowed quickly, most of my rock hard confidence dissolving under the pressure of his hands. I began to breath slightly heavier and my breasts rose and fell against his chest in mock intimacy. My control began to fog as I became delirious with desire.
"I knew you couldn't," he purred and he pushed his lips forcefully against mine.
I fought back moaning as I felt an exhilarating rush flood every fiber of being. My final barrier of willpower was decimated by the passion of his embrace. My hands worked out of the muff as I grabbed onto the collar of his coat, pulling him closer to me. I wanted so terribly to touch every inch of him . . . love every inch of him any way I knew how. My hands slid up to his cheeks.
I felt powerfully masculine jaw muscles shift as his head worked against mine. Before I realized it, his warm velvet tongue surged into my mouth, brushing against mine and causing me to make a high squeak of both surprise and ecstasy. Erik had felt me tense, though he misinterpreted it and slowed dramatically. When I pushed against him again, his hands moved slowly down my body and I shivered as his hands fondled my chastity beads angrily.
I whimpered pitifully against him as I desperately tried to keep pace with his unwavering ardor. The fact that I had allowed him to press up against me made me winded, for he restrained my already compromised breath; I began to feel faint, but stubbornly refused to release him. I would never relinquish him as long as he held me like this.
I felt him untying my corset, the first impediment that separated my body from his. I tensed and he pulled away slowly, the look in his eyes the likes of which I had never seen.
Was it . . . dare I say . . . love?
I was quivering as I stumbled breathlessly, my body still shaken from the swell of emotions that still pounded against the walls of each vein. How had a mere kiss had left me so vulnerable?
He smiled a rare smile at me and I felt as though I would pass out from a mixture of passion and the lack of air to my lungs. Erik looked down at me and watched with amusement as I gathered my bearings. When I had regained my breath, I looked up at him and smirked.
"I believe that answers my question," Erik murmured, his voice a low, feral growl. I shivered. His hand had retreated to his coat pocket, most likely from the strong winter gusts. He grabbed my left hand and drew it up to him, smiling at me.
Oh no Erik, my only love! Don't look at my hand! Oh Allah please!
As if completely to disobey my thoughts, he looked down. His beautiful smile shattered. He dropped my hand and stepped away from me as though I had been infected with the black plague.
"I'm so sorry, Erik!" I wailed, falling into a fit of hysterics. I felt my makeup run in streaks down my face and I threw myself at him, clutching at his cloak. "I thought you didn't truly want me back! I was moving on, to forget, you see?" His expression was emotionless and his nostrils flared.
"It's from him, isn't it?" he asked stoically.
I could only nod, becoming numb at the realization of my horrid mistake. I wish I had never had a dream of anyone other than him; if I hadn't, I would never have left. This wouldn't have happened and Erik. . . oh, Erik.
"I wanted you back, Nasrin. I came here tonight to bring you home, where you and I both know you belong."
My hysterics reached a climax and I grabbed his coat, pulling him to me and weeping into his neck. He pushed me away and wiped the tears from my eyes. A glimmer of hope kindled in me and I was reduced to sniffling quietly.
Instead, Erik tilted my face up to his and looked at me, his eyes dull, his mouth set in a straight line. "It is imperative that you never cry in public, Lady Comtess."
That was the last nail in the coffin. I succumbed to another fit of wails, my face flushed in horrid despair. I kissed his lips, shaking with sorrow, determined to make him feel the truth: I love you Erik, only you. I can never love Jean with the same fire I do you. Please, please understand and see! Please, my angel. Please . . .
He kissed me back, but it was chaste, without the fiery passion he displayed earlier. I realized . . . it was a farewell kiss. He was leaving me . . . I cried into his mouth. He broke the kiss and my head was no longer held high in nobility, but hung low in a love slave's shame.
"Good-bye, Comtess de Lamarier," he whispered before bowing mockingly. He kissed my left hand, his lips brushing the hateful jewel on my finger and strode away.
"Wait, Erik!" I called, running up to him and grabbing his hand, which was clenched angrily in a fist. He turned around slowly, and I could finally see tears shimmer in his eyes. "You didn't come up here just to ask me that one question, did you?"
Erik sighed and reluctantly met my gaze. "No, I had one more question in mind." He opened the hand I had grabbed and there, nestled safely in his black palm . . . a wedding ring.
No . . .
I looked up at him, my eyes wide in disbelief and absolute anguish.
His lips twitched into a small smile, one that he would bare to comfort me. He bowed his head slightly before pulling out of my grasp and vanishing into the shadows. I collapsed in defeat of myself on the ground.
As soon as he was no more, Jean emerged, holding a glass of water in his hand. When his eyes found me crumpled on the ground, crying into my hands, he dropped the glasses and ran over to me and put his hand on my waist.
"Nasrin! My love, what happened?" He sounded frantic and I sat up, grimacing as I noticed the almost ruined state of the dress. I reduced my wailing to sniffling and I looked up at him, dark makeup running in dark streams down my cheeks and under my chin.
"Nothing my love . . . I am just overwhelmed by the prospect of marriage," I choked out. I hated myself. I hated myself for lying to myself, to Erik, for seducing Jean, for everything. I wanted to die, just let my body expire and find solace in another life.
"We can get married whenever you feel comfortable. I won't rush you into anything. We can be wed in three years if that is what you want."
What if I were to say never . . . ?
"Let us be wed after the Masquerade at New Years." I gagged on my answer, hating myself for digging a deeper hole in which to bury myself.
"If that is what you wish. For now, you look exhausted; it is probably in your best interest to retire for the night. Come, I'll guide you to your room."
I nodded numbly and stood on shaky legs, not feeling as though my weak body could support anything anymore.
True to his word, Jean guided me down to my room and lay me on my bed. I wanted nothing more than to run into the labyrinth and end my own life; but suicide was the coward's way out. I wouldn't dare impede with the course of my life Allah planned.
However, my conscience spoke, Allah has a sick sense of humor.
"Do you want me to have Meg come and help you change?" he asked softly, stroking my stained cheek affectionately.
"No, I'll be all right," I groaned and motioned him to the door. He kissed my cheek and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him.
In a state I likened to living death, I changed my clothes without making a noise or changing the look on my face. When I was fully in my night attire, I looked back at my vanity mirror. Where the black rose lay that Erik gave me, there was only a void. It was gone. My head throbbed as a thousand drums wracked my skull. Too tired and dead to cry, I collapsed on the floor and fell into a headache-induced sleep.
xXxXx
Erik's POV:
It was done . . .
I had lost her . . .
Lost my Dark Aphrodite . . .
My heart torn again . . . in the same way . . .
My Nasrin . . . no longer mine . . . never would be . . .
My thoughts ran and blurred together until I couldn't distinguish one thought from another. It was a constant buzz in my mind and my pride was overthrown by my sorrows. I walked despondently down to my lair, casually tossing my dress coat on the floor. My back was hunched in sorry, my arms dangling uselessly by my side.
Your heart is broken, Devil's Child . . . even after you swore to never love again . . . now what are the odds that you would be hurt in the same fashion as before . . . ?
That voice of despair whispered softly in my ear, tempting me into a fit of enraged tears.
No . . . I said to the intangible phantom. Nasrin was different, not like Christine. She still loves me, her kiss told me so.
I beat back any further thoughts of her and sat down at my organ, venting my unsurpassed agony into desolate chords of despair that echoed into every crevice of the labyrinth. I hadn't noticed the tears slipping from behind my eyes, escaping the confines of my self-control and dripping onto the keys.
She loves you . . .
I knew it to be true. Her touch was not one of pity, of sorrow. I could feel the passion and terrible anxiety of her touch, as if she knew that my heart could never truly be hers alone; but she had loved me regardless.
When I had embraced her on the roof, before I knew of her engagement, I had held her to me frenziedly, dreading ever letting her stray from the confines of my arms again. I would have brought her down below, and we would have consummated our union in darkness, where both of us thrived. She wanted to, I felt her shiver against me and I knew it wasn't fear that made her shake. I had soothed her by applying slight pressure to her back, feeling her lean muscles flex as attached herself to me, wanting me to know that she had given in and surrendered her heart completely to me.
And you to her . . .
Our combined passion had been a bruising force, and I had wanted so strongly to rid her of that dress and have her once and for all. She would not have denied me; we both knew that what fire passed between us was a more tangible passion than any either of us had experienced prior to it.
She abandoned you . . .
No . . . I had abandoned her. For four months I could have proposed; she would have put up a façade of composure, but with one kiss, she would have been mine. Now, it was no longer me who would make her shiver or moan; it was the Comte de Lamarier. That despicable feminine fop had showed more spine than me and taken Nasrin just out of my reach . . . only an hour or two before myself.
Kill the Comte . . .
No . . . I wanted to . . . I yearned to spill the blood of that wretched boy; to wring his neck and watch as his breath wheezed out of him one final time. I would take Nasrin then and all would be done. However, she needed a house, stability, life besides this darkness. Such beauty would whither without light, I realized instantaneously. I belonged in hellish darkness . . . she was too beautiful, too astounding to be kept in shadow. Now she was where she belonged; she needed the light.
She needed you . . .
And I her . . . I realized, at long last, that my desire for her was not merely a matter of flesh and physical attraction. I was attracted to far more of her aspects than just the way her body moved. She was brilliant, sly, cunning, compassionate . . . beautiful. She was all I thought I could never obtain in a woman. I knew it then . . . I was meant to have her, and she to me. But, she had sworn herself off suddenly, intent on forgetting our passion, our . . . love?
Revenge runs thick in your veins . . .
It is crucial that I act. I cannot allow my Fire Rose to go to another. She knew that she wanted me, and I wanted her. A profound, fervent wanting that would insure sleepless nights for months on end. I would not lose her in the same way I lost Christine. I needed her by my side, to protect, to cherish, to live completely. I had stayed long enough to hear that they would be married after the Masquerade ball. What a delightful invitation for me to take.
I would show the world who she was, for what she was, that she was not as perfect as she seemed. Her head would be her undoing . . . as my face was mine. Reveal the beauty as the beast. Once I showed her that I alone could bear the sight of her distortion, she would return to me a great deal wiser . . . and without a pesky Comte trailing blindly in her wake.
I smiled, feeling my pain turn to madness, my sorrow to anger, my love to spite. I would have her for my own because I would make certain no one else would take her.
Revenge runs thick in your veins . . .
A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!
VictorianDream: LOL, thank you for not lurking! Lol. Of course Erik can give you a hug. It would be his pleasure! Erik!
Erik: You're selling me off like a slave.
Shade: Well I am a slave to my reviewers, so HUG!
Erik: (hugs tightly)
Shade: There you go! LOL, I hope that sufficed . . . then again, one hug never truly suffices when it comes to Erik now does it? Hm, will have to consider that . . . Anyway, thank you so much for your review, here is your update!
littledarkone: LOL! You think you smell lemons? Hm . . . . I'll just keep quiet. I think this chapter kinda put a cork in that whole thing, I'm afraid, lol. But you will see what Erik does . . . oh the poor phantom . . . oh the poor Fire Rose. Don't be scared for Jean . . . I can't tell you why, but don't lol, you'll regret it later. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!
harem98: LOL, a fellow play lyric enthusiast. YAY! Anyway, I love that music change as well, I've played the clarinet for 9 years, so if anyone's a band dork . . . it's me, lol. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!
Maidenhair: Thank you very much! I have a writing mentor who I guess you can say is my 'guide and guardian' when it comes to this. (crickets chirp) Well I thought it was amusing. (sigh) So glad you enjoy reading this, it's always nice to hear. Wow, what is the book called? I would love to read it; it sounds so kewl. (Nasrin started learning at 7, so I guess she thrived mostly on innate talent rather than long experience.) Wow, I picked Nasrin's name cuz it meant "Wild Rose" in Persian and thought it was appropriate, and I made her a belly dancer because I am one, so . . . yeah, I'm rambling. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!
Kitariki: NO! NOT THE RANDOM HAND! (kills it) that bastard will not die. XD! Thank you so much again for your wonderfully over flattering review, you make me laugh, hahahahaha!
Erik: Not . . . that . . . song . . . again.
Shade: (cough) sorry, Erik. Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update! (gives a box of tissues)
xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx: I presume you might need these? (gives box of tissues) No, last chapter wasn't sad, so I'd be surprised if anyone cried. But this one . . . oh this one . . . I cried writing it! That says something! Well go ahead, spank Erik if you wish! Erik!
Erik: HELL NO!
Shade: Present your ultra fine ass to xxXGoddessXofXdedXloveXxx now!
Erik: (presents)
Shade: Good! I think he needs a spanking after this chapter anyway. Well, Nasrin should kinda be slapped too, but we'll see what happens. Anywho, I don't think you're a baby for crying, lol. It's angsty! So angsty! Well anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!
Jen Lennon: Well, she is so stubbornly intent on proving that she isn't weak. Obviously, she just really fucked it up. Hold on tight though, this is about to become exclusively lovely revenge. Erik doesn't take to rejection lightly, we know that, and Nasrin . . . well, you'll see. Oh, I almost forgot. (gives tissues) Thanks for the review, here is your update!
DragonheartRAB: . . . a long time, I guess. But didn't Nasrin just throw him for a loop? She's fucked it up bad now. -.- Oh well, glad you liked the chapter, thanks for the review and here is your update!
Mademoiselle Justicia: Thank you for returning him, lol. He seems to be kinda freaked out . . . but I'm sure he'll be all right eventually. I hope . . . Anyway, LOL! Meg can do ballet, but can you picture the movie Meg belly dancing? I think not! (lol) I think Nasrin's making him quite insane with the fact that he can't have her. And as you see in this chapter, it only gets worse. Thank you so much for the always incredibly amusing review and here is your update!
Bananas in Pajamas: LOL, I don't think I've gotten a review from you before, welcome! (bows) Steamy moments indeed. Hell, Nasrin has WAY more self control than I would have when it comes to Erik wanting me. (clears throat) Anyway, yes, some ppl have told me that Nasrin is a bit Mary Sue in the beginning chapters . . . then later you're like, "HOLY CRAP! NO WAY!" Then the title no longer seems appropriate. But thank you! She'll get even less as time goes on. Thanks for sticking w/ it even when you thought she was a Mary Sue, means much. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Dragon-mage16: LOL, glad you liked it. I thought about the stagehand thing but realized, if Comte de Lamarier is hitting on her, you don't go stealing from a powerful man, you know? You just kinda have to respect them, otherwise . . . yeah. Jean's well respected around the Opera so I don't think stagehands would try to bang Nasrin if they knew he loved her. Death by scabbers and pigmes? XD! O . . . M . . . G! If only if only! Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!
tink8812: LOL. Well, hissy fit indeed. You'll see. Mwahaha. Well, her reaction to the room thing isn't as big as when the topic of the Phantom comes up. Mwaha. You shall see grasshopper! Thanks for the review and here is your update!