I hope I have not lost any readers; my reviews have dwindled, but I refuse to beg.
I know that this story has a few uncomfortable aspects to it, but I am trying to write a slightly different story than I normally do. I do hope you enjoy it.
Without further ado...
DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 18
The next couple of days were full of hours and hours of writing. Erik had promised Richard and Gilles new compositions and at least one new opera while he was in Paris.
He would be leaving for Marseilles in a couple of days to pick up Sharad's sister. What would he do? Sharad wanted him to marry her, but Erik had promised himself – after his failure and subsequent embarrassment with Christine – that he would never have anything more to do with love; at least as far as he was able to control it.
Her name echoed in his mind; causing a tirade of forbidden and unwanted yearnings to flood his body; his eyes closed in painful regret for the things that would never be his.
"Lavanya."
He said the name aloud; he hoped that feeling it roll off his tongue would ease the unsettling doubt that had rendered him a bundle of rattled nerves. Just the prospect of meeting her had him in knots.
He threw the pen down on the desk and pushed the chair violently out from underneath him as he stood. He pushed his fingers thought his hair and strode to the large beveled window that overlooked the Paris streets; streets he had observed for years. He had been a dark, fallen, slightly imprudent angel watching the human race move through time without him.
A sardonic smirk lifted the corner of his mouth and the depth of his eyes grew slightly bitter as he remembered the pain he had lived through while haunting the caves beneath the opera house.
Nothing – absolutely nothing – was worth going through that hell again. He had tasted, if only for a brief moment, what it was like to be accepted – and he had grown to like it.
A light, but insistent knock sounded and Erik turned to see Annette enter. She smiled slightly and came to stand in front of him.
"You have been in here for hours, Erik, have you eaten anything?"
Erik scoffed slightly and shook his head, "Eating is seldom on my mind; I tend to wait until my head is pounding dreadfully and I can barely stand before I give into the need to eat."
"Let me buy you some lunch…"
She tilted her head sideways and roamed her eyes over his face; lovingly noticing that he looked exhausted. The slight graying at his temples was a new factor to his arresting features – but she found that she liked it, very much.
"…you do not eat enough Erik. Lavanya will take one look at you and think she is to marry a skeleton."
He wrinkled his brow – frowning endearingly down at her.
"I doubt that my lack of bulk is going to be her main concern."
He gave her his arm and began leading her to the door.
"Think what you want, Erik, but you are going to be surprised when a woman – bold enough to take control – comes along and stakes her claim on you."
Erik laughed, full and vibrant; filling the air with the sound of his polite skepticism.
Annette glanced sideways at him with a smirk on her face and twinkle of mischief in her eyes.
"Go ahead and laugh, but I am eager to see what develops between you and Lavanya."
They walked, her arm wrapped through his, enjoying the sunshine as it embraced them with the warmth of the afternoon. To those passing them, they looked like any other couple on the street; they enjoyed each other's company and spent time together – discussing various subjects and even laughing.
However, Erik was ever suspicious of people's intent, and hated the scrutiny he felt when among them. He never saw anything but hatred, revulsion, and disgust in their eyes.
"Right…" he laughingly replied, "…if we are lucky, she will not run away screaming when she sees me."
She rolled her eyes at him and scoffed, but she said nothing. His opinion of himself prevented him from believing anything anyone said to him, so she did not bother. The only way he would believe he was attractive, would be through the actions of a lover; Annette said a silent prayer that Lavanya would gladly assume that responsibility.
They arrived at the small street café and took their seats. Self-conscious and uncomfortable, Erik was having a hard time adjusting to being so close to those who had once shouted for his demise.
Annette noticed his unease and took his hand in hers as they sat across from each other. He looked up to find her fingers entwined with his. He had not worn his gloves and he stared helplessly as she gently massaged his long, talented fingers.
"You have been working too hard since you arrived; take a few hours off – at least…" she pulled her hand back and picked up the menu. "…now, what would you like to eat?"
♣♠♦♥
The meal was light and delicious, but Erik hardly tasted anything. He was anxious about the coming days, and he had never been too good at hiding his emotions.
He could tell that Annette had something on her mind; she was entirely too quiet.
"Alright Annette, out with it – what is the real motivation behind this meal?"
She smirked and lifted her brow, "You always did know what I was thinking."
Her brief laugh was slightly nervous and she shifted her eyes between him and movements of the waiter behind him.
"Tarrah and I found a house that would be perfect you."
His eyes didn't shudder – his mouth didn't drop – so far, so good.
"Really?"
His reply was soft and doubtful.
"It is in a secluded part of town; only the prestigious and upper-class live there. The house is large and quite ornate...and there is quite a lot of acreage that comes with it."
Erik lifted his chin, wrinkled his brow, and lifted the side of his mouth in a slight smirk.
"Why would I need a house?"
Annette rolled her eyes and daintily wiped her mouth with her napkin. She stared at him for the longest time, but didn't say a word.
Erik shifted in his seat, half expecting her to scold him. She didn't, but continued to stare at him with amused disgust.
"Erik, you are going to marry this girl, are you not?"
He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, "It seems I have no choice in the matter; I made an oath to her brother; it was years ago – but it was still an oath."
Annette noticed the defeated look in his eyes and the way he seemed rather disturbed over the idea of getting married; but she chose to dismiss it as pre-wedding jitters.
"She will need a home, Erik, a place to call her own."
"Are you forgetting, Annette, that I have a home – in London?"
Her face fell slightly, and she looked away from him; how could she make him understand?
"Erik, please do not make me beg you to stay…you know how much I want you here." She was forcing back tears, and hoped he hadn't noticed, "If you ever cared for me at all – or still do, you will stay here; you are like a brother to me."
He smiled and chuckled acceptingly, "Ahhh, the curse I am forever a part of…I shall always be the 'brotherly' figure, or the 'fatherly' figure to the beautiful women I have known in my lifetime."
Her eyes shot up and he realized that he had never told her she was a beautiful woman before - which she was. Strong of character and brilliant minded; Annette was undesirable among the men of Paris despite her ageless beauty. It did not matter, really, she was an independent and successful woman in her own right – heaven knows her useless husband had not made her what she was.
The only man who seemed determined to win her hand was Richard, and Erik had no idea why she kept refusing him.
"Erik, you have never said such things to me before."
He smiled and glanced away, slightly embarrassed at having admitted she was attractive, "You are a beautiful woman, and your independent and confident spirit just makes you more beautiful…in my opinion – not that it counts for much."
Annette touched his hand again, feeling a renewed youth in her heart at his words.
"Thank you, Erik, and your opinion has always meant a great deal to me."
He stared blankly at her hand, without blinking, as she gently stroked his flesh with her thumb.
"Whatever for?"
She smiled and gave his hand a hard tug, "Because I love you, you dolt!"
Erik's eyes grew wide at her admission and at her use of "dolt" – he did not believe anyone had ever dared to call him such a name.
"Oh!! Don't look so surprised, Erik; I love you like a brother, and Christine and Tarrah love you like a father. Meg is quite fond of you, but she does not know you very well." She released his hand and leaned back in her chair. "However, not all women will see you this way, and I do not want you to think that."
He smiled, and quickly changed the subject, "It matters not…as for where we will love, I will allow her to make the decision – the least I can do is try to please her." His eyes grew dark and an undefined sadness filled the air, "I trust that you, Tarrah, Christine, and Meg will help her feel at home."
"Of course, you do not even have to ask."
That was a good thing, for Erik planned to stay as far away from her as possible.
♦♥♣♠
The house they had found was quite lovely, from an artistic view. The intricate lattice on the outside of the house as well as the decorative molding was hand-carved and beautifully stained.
Erik walked the halls and inspected each room with an appreciative eye. He was intensely pleased with the attention to detail that the designer had paid; the overall lushness of the house was impressive.
Tarrah had immediately fallen in love with it and had begged him to stay in Paris; it seemed the city had spun its magic on her.
"I am goin' to luv it in Paris!" Tarrah said, with a big grin on her face.
Erik looked at her as they stood in the foyer looking around the large entrance hallway of their new home. He walked up to her and spoke in an even tone.
"You do realize that it will be like starting over, you do not have a name in Paris, Tarrah, and you will have to prove yourself."
She nodded, understanding that he was concerned for her delicate, female nature; but Tarrah was ready to take on a new challenge. Paris, and all its beauty, fashion, arts, and people posted the most interesting challenge to an almost-eighteen-year-old girl.
"Is she the diva?"
Erik knew exactly who Tarrah was referring to, and could hear the slight influx of jealousy in her tone. Tarrah had never had competition before, but Christine posed a valid threat.
"Yes she is, and has been for some time."
Tarrah shuffled away from him and tried to hide the uncertainty she was feeling. Erik smirked slightly, knowing that the competition would be good for her.
"Tarrah?"
His voice had that warning lilt at the end and Tarrah lifted apologetic eyes to him. She hated feeling this way, but there had never been a reason in the past.
"She is good, Erik…I heard her singing this morning. How am I ever going to compete with that – what will become of me?"
Erik stood in front of her with his arms crossed and the most perturbed look on his face. They stared boldly at each other once Tarrah realized he was not going to coddle her.
"What do you want me to say…" he asked, with a frustrated edge in his voice, "…that she is not good and you have nothing to worry about?"
He was not going to tell her that Christine was leaving the opera to start her family; Tarrah would find out soon enough – in the mean time, she would become better.
His eyes were dark and in them beat a deep pain that Tarrah had never seen before.
"I cannot say that, Tarrah – and I refuse to lie to you…she is good. I trained her to be such."
Tarrah's eyes were defiant, but her chin was trembling with pent up emotion. She knew she was good, but she had never faced anyone of Christine's caliber before.
"Tarrah…" his voice was soft and pleading; he lifted her chin and looked deep into her eyes.
He seemed vulnerable for the moment and Tarrah took advantage. She leaned into his broad chest and buried her face in his shirt. He wore no jacket and his shirt was crisp and clean. It clung to his muscular chest like a loose glove – giving a good view of his muscular build.
He smelled of exotic spices and exotic Asian musk and Tarrah clung to him as though letting go would sever her lifeline.
He stood there, looking like a lost puppy, cradling Tarrah in his arms, and enjoying every minute of it. He had begun thinking of her as a daughter, more and more. The thought of her looking to him as a father made a warm place in his heart.
He patted her back, something that seemed to come naturally, although he had no idea why; and kissed the top of her head.
"Tarrah, the more I think about it, the more I know that you need this competitive stage in your life – you have never had to face anyone who could actually give you a challenge…" he lifted her chin as he pulled back from her, "…I trained you, too…I know what you are capable of."
She smiled sweetly and hugged him again, more determined than ever to be the best.
♦♣♥♠
The next two days were spent making arrangements for their belongings to be sent from London. Erik told himself that it was only temporary, that his farce of a marriage would be over in no time, and he could return to his life – those thoughts were what kept him going.
He sent a wire to Hammond, explaining the situation and promised to send copies of his work to him so that performances could be done in both opera houses, then he made an offer that Richard and Gilles had not expected.
They sat in the main business office of the opera house. Erik had just made an offer and both managers were trying to decide the best course of action.
"You want to do what!?" Richard exclaimed.
His bedazzled look was almost comical, but Erik remained calm and stood remarkably still as he watched his former adversaries ponder their next move.
"You cannot be serious?" Gilles added.
Erik, fighting the urge to laugh, merely sighed and examined the back of his nails in a bored manner.
"I assure you both…I am quite serious."
"You do realize that we have not had a profitable season in the last three years…" Richard emphasized.
Erik gave one nod of his head.
"….and that there is no money in the treasury…" Gilles stressed.
Erik gave another nod.
"…and that you would have sole responsibility if this fails?"
Erik smiled, and nodded one more time.
"In return my sizable financial backing, gentleman, I want full control over the staff and crew, the sets, the music – in essence, I will be the Artistic and General Manager and Financier, and you two…" he pointed with a smirk, "…will be the Operations and Business Managers. You will make sure the money flows as it should, that people get what they need to do their jobs, and that everyone is happy."
Gilles and Richard glanced at each other, wondering if they were making a pact with the devil; but they both knew that they had no choice if they wanted the Opera Populaire to stay in business.
"Have the papers drawn up, Mr. Lacroix, I do not see how we have a choice."
Erik scowled at them, "You always have a choice, gentlemen….and it will have to wait…" he pulled out his pocket watch and gave it a quick glance before returning it to his pocket, "…I leave tomorrow morning for Marseilles to retrieve the unlucky, young woman who is to be my bride."
He picked up his cape and pulled his gloves on; he needed to get to his new home and get some work done.
"Good day."
He nodded, walked to the door, and was gone
TBC