Author's Note: This is a short chapter, adding a little depth to Christine and Erik's relationship. Next chapter will be longer, and go a long way towards wrapping up the story. Happy Mother's Day!
Erik stepped into the lobby of his building, unsure of what to expect when he would cross the threshold to his loft. Christine would be inside, waiting for him, as she had been for the past several days. He had been thinking of her all throughout his workdays, which was not unusual. In fact, ever since meeting Christine, Erik had thought of little else, save his music.
However, his thoughts of her had never before been filled with shame. Shame in a sense that Erik had never known it before.
After everything I know she's been though, I still dared to push her into my bed…I am an animal, a bastard…
He felt confused- as if there was a great problem before him and he had no way to fix it. Christine's past was her own, but what of the present and future she claimed to yearn for so badly? She could kiss Erik and touch him freely, but her body would tense and withdraw from him once things became too intense. The night before, Christine had simply said that she felt nervous; a testament to her inexperience, but Erik was no fool.
She is afraid to make love again- afraid to enjoy what was once a form of abuse. That monster- I'll make him pay for what he did to her…
Erik didn't know if he could believe Christine when she told him that she did not regret the one time they'd made love, two nights ago now. It had been such a mad night; filled with dancing, wine, passion. So many things had come together that it had seemed almost inevitable that they would as well. Erik had pleasured her, and been as gentle as he was able, and while he had felt nothing but joy at their union, Christine had been a sea of emotion too deep for Erik to understand.
Erik had no way to understand what Christine might have felt that night but amid the fear and the physical discomfort, he could only hope that she'd felt a small part of the love he had for her.
I want you, Christine, but I will do what it takes to protect you, even if it means I may never have you again…
He stepped into one of the elevator shafts and allowed his eyes to stray toward his reflection in the mirrored walls. Erik felt satisfied with what remained of his looks, and thought with a strange smile that his mask added a touch of mystery to his persona. At least his appearance was not boring, and he had not allowed his body to grow weak or too soft.
Christine was attracted to him, Erik knew it, and he thought with a spark of hope that the monster at least had left part of her intact. For if, to Erik's way of thinking, Christine could find a man attractive, she could bear his company and perhaps grow to love him in time.
In love, and time, lie healing.
Erik unlocked his door and stepped into the loft. He was greeted by the pups and the scent of dinner. His stomach clenched and made a soft growl- he had skipped lunch. "Christine?"
"In here," she called back to him from the kitchen.
Erik set aside his briefcase and coat before turning the corner to find her at the stove. His heart dipped to see her dressed casually in another pair of dark jeans set with a black cashmere sweater. She was barefoot, he noticed, and had tied her hair back with a scarlet ribbon of lace.
It was a scene of tranquil domesticity that went a way toward warming Erik's heart. She was cooking for him and had set out the table for a romantic evening. He blinked and cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed to have been staring. "What are you cooking, Christine?"
She turned to him, her smile radiant and pure. "The only thing that could possibly warm you in this blizzard," she winked. "Texas chili. I learned how to make it when we were living in Dallas. You'll love it."
Erik nodded, but he still felt somewhat off-balance with her. The night before she had been upset and tense, and now she seemed happy to play the homemaker.
"May I have a sample?"
Wordlessly, Christine held out a spoon and fed him a bite. Erik winced at the strong flavor, "My God, that woke me up!" He joked. "Wonderful, I've never had it so spicy."
Erik smiled, even as his eyes watered and his throat began to itch.
Christine smiled. "I knew you'd love it. It's almost ready to serve."
He nodded again and went off to his bedroom to change out of his suit. It wasn't that he minded Christine making dinner, but he didn't want to be distracted, and he was determined to have a sit-down with her to work out the problem from the night before.
He couldn't allow Christine to put him off, no matter how fantastic her cooking.
Christine had thought to have a more casual night in with her man- no fancy Italian dishes, no French wine. She wanted simple food, hot, filling and bursting with flavor and she delivered it in spades.
If Erik didn't care for the meal, he was a wonderful actor, as he'd finished two bowls in the time it took for Christine to finish one. They had drunk milk and ice water to cool their throats from the spice, that in and of itself being a small miracle since Erik behaved so much the connoisseur with his wine.
Once the plates were cleared, Erik moved to the couch and he brought Christine down with him. "That was most certainly my favorite meal this year," he confided as he kissed her temple.
Christine smiled and leaned in closer to him, already her mind falling deeper and deeper into the comfort of his hold. "I'm glad you liked it, Erik."
"I didn't like it, I loved it. Not as much as I love you, but it came in a close third," he said teasingly, his arms twining around her.
Christine raised her head. "A close third? Then what's in second place?"
Erik raised his brows. "Well, there's your hair," he said, tugging at it playfully. "Because it is so gold. Your eyes, such a clever, bold blue. Your lips, well that should be obvious." He moved to kiss Christine's mouth, but she turned her cheek to him instead.
In that small movement, Erik's suspicions were confirmed.
"And then there's your backside, because it's a perfect fit for my hands." He pulled Christine to lay atop him and reached to cup her, his hands easily grasping the jean-clad muscles. "And your legs, each of them easily a mile long…shall I go on?" He asked.
Christine shook her head, laughing nervously. Discreetly, she tried to move off of him, but Erik's hands kept her in place above him. "All of that is in second place?"
"Oh, yes. I love you for you, not for your body, though I must say that is beautiful as well. Christine, are we going to talk about last night?" Erik asked, finally releasing her.
Christine moved to sit astride him, her expression concerned, worried. "Is there any reason that should?"
Erik moved to sit up, easing Christine from his lap and stroking her shoulders. "If you tense when I touch you, then yes, we need to talk. In our…arrangement, and especially after the other night, I had thought we'd be intimate. It's not healthy for us to continue in this way if you are afraid of me."
Christine hung her head a moment before taking a deep breath and meeting his gaze. "I am not afraid of you, Erik. I promise, I was never afraid of you. You are the most wonderful man I have even known. You are everything any girl could ever want, but…it's me that I'm afraid of. I don't know how to explain it without sounding like a crazy person," she muttered to herself. "I'm just afraid of getting too close, of letting you too close to me. Erik, I do love you, but I know that it will kill me when you come to your senses."
He'd held her as she had made her confessions, and Erik held her tighter at her last statement. "Christine-"
"I can't help the way I feel!" She cried out. "But what can I offer you? What future do you see us having together when I've given lap-dances to half of your society friends? I recognized them at the opera, at the restaurant. They'll realize who I really am and it will humiliate you. I can't be with you if it'll destroy everything you've worked so hard to achieve…"
Erik took hold of her shoulders and shook her, hard. "Damn it, Christine! Not another word, do you hear me?! I don't care about them, they can't touch us! They're just people like you'll find anywhere else and I'll not hear one more word about their influence! They're nothing to us, all that matters is what's between you and I." He said, his voice and eyes softening. He drew Christine in closer.
"You are not so concerned for appearances, Christine. Why are you pretending? I would uproot my life and settle in a new place where no one knows us if it would make you happy," he sighed. "But I know that's not what you want. This isn't about other people and you know it. This is about you and me. It's about your past."
She reared from him, "No! I don't want to talk about that,"
"You have to talk to someone, sometime, Christine. Even now you do not trust me and you are holding yourself back from so much…I might know someone that could help you," he began.
Christine snorted. "Oh, a therapist? No, thank you! I discussed everything; every horrible little detail of what Michael did to me over the years with two psychologists right after he was taken away. I'm surprised you didn't already know that thanks to your investigation into my past- or maybe you do. I'm not the only one with secrets, am I?" She demanded.
Erik shook his head, "No. I only know a few facts, the rest is all for you to fill in." He said, almost challenging her.
She shook her head, angry, confused and ashamed. "No," she said quietly. "I've told you before that I want to move on, and I do. But not at the cost of the life you've built."
Christine thought little of her own circumstances- she had endured abuse, forged friendships, and most amazing of all, she'd found love with a wonderful man. She thought herself blessed in some ways, cursed in others. She could take care of herself. Stripping for money was not a thing she had ever enjoyed, in the beginning it had been purely for the money, but it was only after being with Erik that she had come to think of it as a sort of betrayal.
This wonderful man that had given so much of himself already, he was willing to give her so much more, and Christine spent her days with other men, allowing them to touch her, dancing for them, giving them the sort of attention that should belong to Erik alone…
In spite of the setback that would mark him for the rest of his life, Erik had built a life for himself that would elicit envy from any man. Christine would destroy her own face before allowing anything of her past to jeopardize it.
Erik forced her face to his and kissed her, hard. "Christine. Please, don't talk that way. I'll do anything for you, anything you need, just say the word and it's yours. What happened to you before and what is happening now, I don't see you any differently. I love you, I don't care about any of it." He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes blazing down into hers. "Once this mess is taken care of, I'll see that it's buried. I'll take care of everything. If you want, I can rewrite your history- no one will ever know of it and then we can move on together…"
He sighed against her mouth, frustrated and unsure how to continue. "I've…there are things in motion, Christine. For you. I just need more time, a few more days and it will be over. Say you trust me, please, I need to hear you say it."
Christine fell into his arms, exhausted. "I do trust you, Erik. I just can't trust myself yet."
They each had a restless, fitful sleep. Christine tossed and turned in the guest bedroom while Erik had hardly moved at all, his eyes shut but his mind tumultuous as ever. Not only was her past coming into play, but Christine's insecurities were becoming overwhelming. Erik wasn't sure how to go on.
He'd spent the day on the telephone, arranging certain events that would, hopefully, fall into place perfectly in the sort of Machiavellian puzzle he'd never thought to be involved in. Erik had not counted on Christine's own inner turmoil emerging now, threatening to drive them even further apart.
In her mind, she was unworthy of him, and saw herself as a threat to his social standing. That everything in Erik's life, his careers, his friendships, would fall apart on the realization that Christine, his beautiful young mistress held a dark past, was absurd. She didn't dare threaten his reputation or image. As if she could.
Erik rolled over. Then there is the other, that her body rejects me.
That was another thing entirely, but no doubt linked to the first. Perhaps she was simply afraid to deepen their intimacy, or her insecurities dominated her mind, but whatever the cause, Christine was subtly rejecting the small physical advances he made.
Erik was no saint, but he wasn't a complete bastard. He wanted to take Christine to bed again, to make love to her, to give her pleasure and free her from the horrible, hazy memory of her first experience. She was his woman, his mistress, and Erik wanted her as only a man could. He'd had her body only two nights ago, and already his body was screaming in frustration that he hadn't had her again, and worse, she was not sharing his bed.
He wanted her, but more than her body, he wanted her heart.
Earlier, she had mentioned a book that she'd bought that afternoon, some self-help tome written by an accredited psychologist. Erik was grateful for that, at least. Christine recognized a problem and was seeking help in her own way. She had told him that she wished to keep her own counsel and work through her feelings on her own, rather than discuss her dilemma with a stranger.
"No one knows my problems better than I do," she'd said. "So why should I take them to someone else?"
Why, indeed.
As frustrating as it was, Erik knew that the only thing he could do was allow Christine the freedom to look inside herself and make her own choices. He had to take a step back to ease the pressure- he could not sway her; he wanted her in his life, desperately, but he would be damned if he would force her to be with him against her true wishes.
Ultimately, it was Christine who would decide if they were to go forward together or not.
Erik could only hope for the best.