A/N: Sorry for the lateness. I know that I am always apologizing but school is insane. Plus in mid December we got hit with a bad ice storm where I live and there was a lot of trees down and electrical damage. I didn't have school for almost 3 weeks so now all my teachers are trying to cram everything in before our mid term exams. So, hopefully we don't get another storm like this last one, which they are now calling, "The Ice Storm of 08' "

Thanks to my beta who is always putting her best effort into helping me and has truly made my story better. Thank you so much!

Please review! and enjoy!

Chapter 9

The mahogany door clicked shut; the sound resonated down the hallway that instilled a fear of notifying Erik she was here. She was wrong to risk Madame Giry's safety, for she knew that he did not take too kindly to having people reveal his secrets. The clock tower down the street sounded and Mollia ran as fast as she could, realizing what being late could do to the situation. The managers were already there, waiting for Mollia, pocket watches in hand.

"We almost thought you had backed out, Mademoiselle, but we are glad you decided to come." She could see the sweat cooling on their foreheads and glared at them, silently damning them for their cowardice.

"I am sorry Messieurs, I would have arrived earlier, but there was something I forgot to do. And it required my immediate attention. I hope that your fear of having to face the Opera Ghost without me here has come and gone." They frowned visibly, trying to mask what they already believed to be hidden. The clock struck midnight, and the stage darkened almost completely, excepting the mangers' lone candle. She heard a thud on the stage and immediately recognized it as the falling of a sandbag. That was when the Opera Ghost made his decent. She watched him the whole way. The process in which he followed was graceful and sly. His cloak whispered around his built body, and his leather glove, protecting the man's artistically calloused hand, made a silent decent as it slid down the rope. When he landed softly, the managers finally saw him, and their gasp hid his lone breath of exhaustion.

"Good evening Messieurs, and oh!" The look of surprise angered Mollia, and it infuriated her when he bowed lowly, but she curtsied none the less. "Oh, Mademoiselle, it is a delight that you chose to come here and to stay with me. You did choose to join me as my guest?" The managers looked at me, waiting for me to answer correctly like a trained puppy, sitting when told to.

"Yes Monsieur, I have decided that this Opera House is worth anything, including my freedom. I trust that you have prepared to seal the rest of your end?" Swiftly he produced an envelope, barely moving his cloak as he pulled it from his pocket. "Enough money for this month and also enough for the production cost. I trust that it will be a beautiful season with Mademoiselle Daee as our lead. Her voice, I dare say, is more spectacular and alluring than that of her mother's." His voice was sharp and cold. Mollia felt like the same icicles that protruded from his voice were scraping and puncturing her heart as he mentioned her mother.

"Thank you, Monsieur le Phantom. We personally guarantee you that this season will be the greatest. Now, we have work to do and must set to it at once. Farewell Mademoiselle, we will see you at tomorrow's rehearsal." They scurried away like rodents, leaving the mouse alone with the lion. Mollia sighed and looked at Erik, unknown sadness in her eyes. His eyes were not so pitying as he smirked and offered his open palm.

"We should take our leave now, Mademoiselle." Mollia nodded and walked forward a bit, taking his hand. Warm leather encased the skin of her palm and she was twirled around, her chest pressed against Erik's. She hesitated, looking into his eyes.

"Erik?" It was then that they dropped. She buried her face into his shirt collar. She kept her face like that, even after they had stopped falling. The tiny stubbles of his chin brushed her cheek and she could hear the soft grind of his teeth. He smelled like a man--not a disgusting man like a stagehand--but a deep musk with a hint of hidden fragrance. She felt so right being held against him, and she almost protested when he started to set her down.

"I trust that you can walk, Mademoiselle Daee?" That was it! She was sick of him being so formal and coming off as cold and uncaring.

"Why are you doing this Erik? Why are you being so cold?" She glared at him, and fell back a few steps when he stretched his height to the max. "Is it not the proper way to treat a lady, Mademoiselle, who would rather be somewhere else--a lady who didn't want to save the thing that she loved most?" Mollia eyes squinted as her face contorted in pain. She sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth as the tears welled in her broken eyes.

"I never said that I did not want to come here Erik. I always want to be with you, but seeing my father in so much pain, being the cause of that same pain--it broke a little piece of my heart, along side to the piece that shattered after my mother's death. I am sorry that I came across the wrong way Erik." She thought that he would soften. She thought that he would encase her into his arms and whisper words of relief and love into her ears, but he brushed past her.

"We have wasted too much time, Mademoiselle. We must reach my home soon, or I may not be able to retrieve your baggage tonight. And the opera scum will have already had their hands all over your things." He walked ahead a bit and stopped when Mollia did not follow. She stood there, her heart crushed, her face wet with the onslaught of tears, and her feelings wretched out of their hiding place deep within her and torn to shreds by his actions. She was still when he lifted her into his arms and cried softly into his chest as he carried her to his home.