DISCLAIMER: Please refer to Chapter Two

"What?" he faltered as he looked into her blue eyes in disbelief. "Who are you Madamoiselle?"

"Cecilia Deveraux"

His jaw dropped the moment she motioned her last name. This is Charles Deveraux's daughter? The infamous composer Charles Deveraux?

True, Erik had never been acquainted with M. Deveraux. In fact, not many people had. M. Deveraux preferred a rather reclusive and quiet life. No one quite remembers seeing his face. Those who have seen his face have never spoken of it because of the mere chance to be within his genius presence would have been more captivating than being in the presence of the king.

"You mean as in Charles Deveraux? As in, the greatest French composer that ever lived?"

"Yes, that was my late father's name. As you may have read in the papers, he passed on last week." she mentioned as a single tear fell down her now less purple face.

Erik was well aware of M. Deveraux's death. The mere mention of it made him a bit uneasy as though he was standing in the presence of a ghost. Still stunned, he walked back and sat upon a chaise lounge he had in his sitting area. That certainly explains her behavior. She is, after all, the princess of French composition!

"You are standing here, telling me, that the great Charles Deveraux was a deformed man, and that you, of all people in the world, are his offspring?" His hand had lowered from his face at this time. He looked square into her eyes without ay sense of insecurity nor did she seem to notice. In fact, she looked at him as though he appeared as any other man.

"Is that so hard for you to grasp?"

"Actually it is. First of all, I realized M. Deveraux was a recluse, but I never would have guessed it was due to any deformity. Second, if he was indeed deformed, how can one as pretty as you possibly be a child of his?" he questioned in disbelief.

"I needn't get into any arguments with you, Erik. You will just have to take my word for it. If you are so disbelieving, why is it that you have uncovered your face?"

Erik, realizing that his hand had lowered, jumped up and trotted to the organ where his white mask lay. He quickly replaced it on his face, and turned toward Cecilia.

"You really should be resting. Here, let me help you back to your room."

"I will go back on only one condition. You must tell me… where are we?"

Relaxing now that he realized she had moved on from the face incident, he let out a slight chuckle. "Why, my dear, you are in my lair. You are standing no less than two hundred feet beneath the grand Opera Populaire."

Hoping that she would suddenly be afraid by this new information, he grinned with delight.

"Interesting. I always thought there was something under this building," she stated as she began to walk back to the bedchamber. Erik soon followed perplexed by her unexpected statement.

This is an interesting woman. She is not afraid of me. She is not afraid of my home. She is not afraid of my face.

Erik would see her fire was dwindling. He lifted a heavy log from the basket which sat near the brick fireplace and placed it gently atop the orange flames. He rose and turned to look at her as she walked beyond the bed sitting herself down at Christine's vanity.

"This is a lovely room. I'll wager to guess she means a lot to you. I hope I am not imposing on her," Cecilia purred as she lifted the silver brush to her golden hair as she looked attentively at her still bruised face.

Feeling a bitter chill run up his spine, Erik began to feel his body lose composure. Instantly, his eyes became cold and serious. His face slowly grew red. He stomped over to Cecilia and yanked the brush out of her hands.

"Do not touch anything in this room. You may touch the bed and only the bed." he yelled at Cecilia, as he slammed the silver brush onto the vanity. He then reached for her uninjured wrist and pulled her body close to him. As he breathed his fury on her now trembling face, his grasp became more and more powerful.

"Go to sleep now," he stated as he threw her body onto the bed. He then paraded out of the bedchamber, slamming the door behind him.

While she gasped for breath, she could hear his devilish music begin again.