This chapter will piss you all off and make you want to strangle Athena.

That is its intent. ;)

I'm attending a wedding this weekend, so there may not be an update from me until monday. Hopefully, I'll have another chapter for you guys tomorrow, but otherwise, you'll have to wait til next week!

Please review so I have something to make me smile! I'm having a rough day!

-Nico

I reposted this chapter...thanks to bobmcbobbob1 who caught a major error...christine is NOT married to Raoul...yet...teehee...I accidentally wrote "husband"

oops.

Erik's breath had not come evenly since Christine had embraced him behind the locked doors of the manager's office an hour earlier. Now, as he watched the dark carriage take her away from the Opera Populaire, he exhaled heavily, hoping that no one had seen their 'secret rendezvous' after all.

His mind was reeling as he walked back to the home he shared with Athena. It had been so easy, this time around, to bring Christine under his spell. So simple to fall in love with a beautiful young singer who had no idea that the man she now found herself intoxicated with was actually a murdering, deformed monster in a former life.

So effortless to change the course of a life that was headed steadfastly towards a marriage to Raoul deChangy.

His short chuckle at his good fortune puffed out in a cloud of fog against the night air. No promises had been exchanged between he and Christine…no words of love or longing...divorce had gone unmentioned and no engagements had been called off..butall the elements were in place.

Yet, hanging on the outline of Erik's decidedly elated mood was a dark cloud of guilt. Was all of this just another elaborate deception on his part? Would he ever be able to fuse together his past life and his new one, when they were obviously worlds apart?

Subconsciously, his long fingers went to the side of his face where a heavy white mask used to rest, covering his deformity, protecting him from the world.

There was no such protection now.

His mansion stood imposingly tall before him as he climbed the marble stairway to the entrance, which he was surprised to find unlocked. Equally surprising was the soft glow of candlelight coming from the front parlor.

His curiosity peaked, Erik walked calmly towards the light.

Athena was sitting…or rather lounging…on a dark-colored settee against the far wall of the room.

"Hello," she greeted him.

Erik removed his hat and coat, casting them carelessly aside, knowing that a maid would place them properly in one of his many closets in the morning. "Athena," he greeted his wife cordially. "It's late."

Athena drew herself into a proper sitting position, paying no mind to the fact that the silk nightgown she had chosen to wear was dipping dangerously below her collarbone.

She swirled a brown liquid in a larger than necessary glass, taking a demure sip. "I was just about to point out the same thing to you."

She was antagonizing him, Erik suddenly realized.

"Did you find comfort in someone else's arms tonight, Erik?" She asked him pointedly.

Erik did not answer.

Athena laughed lowly and rose to her feet. She walked calmly towards him, her hips swaying languidly as she moved.

Despite his inherent distrust and general dislike of the woman, Erik could not help watching the liquid movements of her body as she approached him.

She peered up at him, her lips playing along the edge of her glass as she took another small sip. "I can't blame all the other women," she said softly. "You're as beautiful as any man could possibly be."

Erik's stomach lurched at the compliment.

This was not the Athena he was familiar with.

Without taking her eyes from his, Athena deftly poured another glass of brandy from the service tray just to her left. With a cat-like grin, she held the glass to him.

Erik wrapped his long fingers around the glass, taking special care not to brush Athena's fingertips in the process.

He was unsuccessful.

She turned from him, sashaying to the side to light another candle as he took a long, much needed gulp of the brandy.

Almost instantly he felt the alcohol's soothing effects.

"It's good, is it not?" Athena asked, simultaneously filling his glass once again.

Erik nodded, taking another hearty gulp.

Athena smiled, seemingly pleased that he was pleased.

"What's the all about, Athena?" Erik asked suddenly, irritated that he was already slurring his words.

Athena shrugged innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about, Erik. Can't a wife simply enjoy her husband's company and wish to make him comfortable?"

Erik scoffed, wondering why he was suddenly struggling with maintaining his balance. "You're up to something," he garbled.

Athena took another sip of her brandy, smiling as she watched her husband stumble towards a chair.

"Probably," she admitted, knowing full well that Erik would have no memory of this conversation.

Within a few moments, Erik's eyes slid closed and his hand loosened its grip on his glass, causing it to come crashing down to the floor.

Athena stood, placing her own brandy glass down. Slowly, she walked over to where her husband now slept deeply. She waited a moment, ensuring that the sleeping powder she had mixed into his brandy had enough time to fully take hold of him.

When she was satisfied Erik would remain asleep for a while, she rang the servants' bell, not caring what time of night it was.

Within minutes, two disheveled, sleepylooking maids appeared in the parlor.

"Master Mansart has indulged beyond his capabilities once again," Athena informed them, adding a hint of exasperation to her cold voice. "I need your help in bringing him to bed."

"Right away, Madame," the older of the two women nodded. "We'll bring the Master to his quarters immediately."

"No," Athena said suddenly. "Not to his quarters." She smiled, her eyes slitting closed just a bit, making her look more evil than she already did.

"Madame?" The maid questioned.

"Bring him to my rooms," Athena directed. "Leave him in my bed."

The maids exchanged a brief glance. Their Master and Mistress hadn't shared a room in nearly a decade.

Yet neither questioned the command.

No one ever questioned Athena Mansart.

Raoul's mother loved to entertain. No one in all of Paris could rival Angelica DeChangy's God-given gift of hosting a party.

The main dining room of the DeChangy house was decorated in beautiful pink, purple and blue pastels, shimmering silvers, delicate lacing and flowing ribbon work that had taken nearly three days and 20 staff members to assemble.

Angelica walked through the dining room, nodding her satisfaction. It was to be an intimate dinner, with only a few members of the Opera Populaire's staff attending in addition to Erik Mansart and his wife, Athena.

"Have you obsessed over the place settings enough, Mother?"

Angelica turned to see her youngest son, Raoul, walking towards her with a teasing smile.

"Not nearly enough," Angelica replied, welcoming her son into her arms. "I'm still anxious over the size of the salad plates."

Raoul laughed and placed a kiss on his mother's cheek. "Everything looks beautiful," he assured her. "Once again, you've outdone yourself."

"Thank you, darling," Angelica said, pleased.

"Now come away from the dining room," Raoul said, offering his arm to the delicate woman. "Your guests will be arriving soon."

Erik's brain pounded against his skull with every jolt of the carriage. Athena watched, obviously amused by his pain.

"You should learn when to put down the bottle," she advised.

"I don't even remember picking it up," Erik grumbled, pinching the top of his nose in an effort to relive some of the pressure that was hovering there. "And besides, I've never heard of a hangover lasting for more than two days.

He had woken said two days ago in Athena's boudoir, his clothing suspiciously removed and replaced with a red silk robe he hadn't even been aware he owned.

No explanation had been given to him as far as what had transpired between he and his wife while he was in her bed, but the crude insinuations Athena had been dropping over the past 48 hours gave him some idea.

He was sick with grief over the entire situation, but determined to purge it from his mind as he had no memory of anything.

If he couldn't remember it, it never happened…

Right?

When the carriage finally, mercifully stopped, Erik jumped out without waiting for the doorman. Like a good husband, he helped Athena from her seat, allowing sunlight to glint off of her unnecessarily abundant jewelry.

As she clung to his arm, Erik led her to the doorway, ringing the bell.

The door swung open with the help of an elderly butler, revealing that they were the last to arrive.

From his vantage point in the entryway, Erik could see Christine standing dutifully beside her fiance, laughing politely at something he had said to Monsieur Firmin, who was obviously already drunk.

When she glanced in his direction, her face immediately reddened, her eyes dropping to her feet.

This, Erik thought, would prove to be the most difficult evening of his new life…

So far.