Turns out that other ppl are having problems with the ruler thing, it's not just me. Yay! I don't feel like my computer is an incompetent piece of junk anymore.

A big thanks to Lethia for helping me write a particular scene in this chapter. Also, I'll try to put a link to a picture of the dress mentioned in this chapter up in my profile, so check for that. If it doesn't work, let me know and I'll message you the link.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, REVIEW…

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"You forgot buttons," Lenore called out to Erik.

"That dress does not require buttons," Erik informed her from his position outside the bedroom.

"With all due respect, there's no way those laces on the back are gonna hold it on me," she replied. "Hey, I didn't tell you to come in," she protested when Erik strode into the room. Without saying a word, he walked around behind her and began pulling the laces tight. "I'd like to breathe, if that's not too much to ask."

"You'll still be able to breathe. Just don't do exert yourself more than you have to," Erik sighed as he tied the laces.

"You picked a bad color," Lenore grumbled. The dress was white, with sky blue embroidery on the bodice and on the skirt from the knees down. "I look awful in pale colors, why didn't you pick something like dark blue or black?"

"I think white's quite fetching on you," Erik commented. "It makes your hair look darker."

White is fetching on me? Is he trying to imply something there? And why does he want my hair to look darker; it's fine the way it is. Five days had passed since Sunday, when he had familiarized his hand with her womanhood, and every statement he made since was analyzed for the slightest hint of his feelings for her. She had told him she loved him, and she meant it. Well, she couldn't be sure she had meant it, because she didn't quite know what love was. But she was pretty sure that this was love…it was all too confusing, really. It might help if Erik would tell her how he felt, but she could never find hidden meanings in anything he said.

"So what are they performing again?" Lenore inquired. The Opera House's grand reopening was tonight, which was why Erik had insisted she get dressed up after dinner. He himself was properly attired for a night out. (She remembered quite bitterly when he had called her incompetent and a complete idiot when he had asked her to tie his cravat and she had responded that she didn't know how and he hadn't needed help for the past 100 or so years, so why did he need help now?)

"Carmen, ma chérie," he answered. "It'll be performed in French, but I'll translate it for you, don't worry." Erik seemed to be studying her a moment before he sighed. "It's a pity your hair isn't longer. There's really nothing to be done with it at this length. I still think you should have let me curl it."

"My hair doesn't curl," Lenore insisted for what seemed the hundredth time. "I mean, technically it curls, but the curl falls out in twenty minutes or less."

"Perhaps it was the length of your hair that caused it to lose the curl. Have you ever tried it with your hair long enough to make proper ringlets?"

"I tried it with my hair down past my waist, and it didn't work," she informed him. "Now let's drop this trivial subject and get going; the curtain rises in fifteen minutes."

Thankfully, Erik decided to listen to her for once. He escorted her to the gondola, helped her in, then threw his cloak around his shoulders before poling out into the dark underground. They emerged from the underground in Box Five just as the house lights dimmed.

The curtain went up, and when the first words were sung, Lenore almost jumped out of her chair. She had not been prepared to hear Erik's voice inside her mind, translating the opera for her. She had expected him to sit close, whispering in her ear the whole time. She kept quiet until the intermission.

"You scared me half to death!" Lenore complained. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to do that?"

"I assumed you were expecting my presence in your mind, ma petite," he replied unconcernedly.

"Well, I wasn't," she muttered. I wanted you to whisper in my ear, it's more romantic that way.

"If you wanted it to be more romantic, you should have said so."

"Why don't you ever give me any warning before snooping around in my thoughts? It's common courtesy, just like knocking on the door before entering the bathroom."

"I wouldn't acquire any useful information if I warned you," Erik explained.

It was silent for a brief moment, as Lenore couldn't think of a reply at this point in time and Erik was waiting for her to speak first. "Are we going to go out and mingle with everyone else?" she finally asked, for lack of anything else to say.

"I don't mingle."

"What's the worst that could happen? I mean, heaven forbid someone actually try to have a conversation with you," Lenore giggled. "Or what if someone expressed an interest to get to know you better?" She was trying very hard to control her laughter at the mental image of someone conversing with Erik.

"I fail to see the humor in my distaste for socializing. Perhaps I should remind you of your high school days when you refused to talk to anyone you didn't know," Erik snarled, causing her laughter to cease.

"How dare you! The things in my mind are private, thank you very much," she snapped back. The nerve of him, peering into her memories and using them against her. Certain things should be considered off-limits.

He smirked, leaning over and nipping her ear before whispering, "That's what makes it all the more enjoyable for me. Forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest."

"I hope you choke on it," Lenore muttered back playfully, in a better mood all because Erik nibbled on her ear. That shouldn't make everything seem better…maybe this really is love… She didn't have a chance to inquire about Erik's feelings towards her, because the house lights dimmed once again and the performance resumed.

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Erik was wondering if he had lost his mind entirely. The performance had just ended, and he intended to take Lenore out to see her mother, who was apparently still hanging around until she saw Lenore to scold her daughter for a good number of things. "Come along," Erik instructed, taking her hand.

"Wait, I thought you didn't mingle," Lenore said, confused when he led her out into the entrance hall.

Erik neglected to respond, preparing to push through the crowds to locate the abominable mother. He quickly spotted her, all but shoving people aside as she made her way towards them, Ember trailing behind reluctantly. I suppose we'll just wait here instead of meeting that shrew halfway.

"Lenore, you should be ashamed of yourself," her mother hissed when she reached them. "You're coming back home, to America, with me, and don't even think of arguing with me. The subject's closed."

"Mom, I hardly think that's fair," Lenore protested, but Erik could tell that she would be on a plane within the hour if he didn't intervene.

"Madam Parker, your daughter is quite capable of making her own decisions, and"- Erik began patiently.

"Don't you tell me what my daughter is or is not capable of. You have no place in this conversation! You whisked my daughter away and kept her from me; I have no doubt you've stolen her innocence at some point," Mrs. Parker snarled. "I don't approve of your relationship with Lenore at all. Why is it that you've neglected to tell us your last name, or how old you are? I don't trust you; you're obviously hiding something! Why do you wear this ridiculous mask?"

Mrs. Parker reached for the mask with lightning speed, but Erik was quicker. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm away with his right hand, then delivered a slap to her face with his left. "Your manners are infinitely deplorable, Madam, and if you try that again, I'll kill you," he threatened. "Lenore doesn't need you prying into her life! We would thank you kindly to leave Paris and never return! Don't try to threaten me with a dark look, Madam. Call the police and claim Lenore kidnapped if you like, but she'll dispute your claim, which"-

"Erik, I don't think"- Lenore started to interrupt.

"Yes, I quite agree, you don't think. Perhaps if you had, you'd know it's rude to interrupt," Erik growled. There was nothing he hated more than being interrupted while he was in the middle of intimidating an inferior.

"Don't speak to my daughter that way!" Mrs. Parker scolded him sharply.

"You would do well to cease thinking of her as yours," Erik snapped, pulling Lenore tightly against him.

"How dare you tell me what to think! I gave birth to her, I'm her mother, and I have every right to think of her as mine," Mrs. Parker argued.

"She is mine!" Erik growled ferociously, tightening his grip on Lenore's small frame.

"I'll show you what's yours!" Mrs. Parker all but shouted, pulling back her fist to punch him.

Swirling his cloak around himself and Lenore, Erik dropped down through the floor; he wasn't the trapdoor lover for nothing! He had worried that Madam Parker would make a scene and he might need to make a quick exit, so he had waited for her on the trapdoor he had used to exit the masquerade ball over a hundred years ago, making sure that Mrs. Parker stood just off it so that she wouldn't fall into his domain. Though that idea had become rather appealing; it would be the perfect opportunity to rid the human race of that nasty specimen. He had also gone to the trouble of improving the mechanism so that it shut immediately behind him (ensuring no one could jump in like that idiotic Vicomte had) and that it worked silently.

Lenore was not prepared for the twenty foot plunge and began squirming in his arms, shrieking as though possessed by the devil. Not that Erik really blamed her (as far as she was concerned, they were plummeting through darkness with no end in sight), but it was painful to his heightened sense of hearing. "Hold still," Erik commanded, hoping that she'd be able to hear him and comply within the few seconds left before they landed.

Lenore cried out in pain upon landing, and Erik knew immediately that she had failed to obey him. He could only hope she'd been fortunate enough to sprain her ankle rather than break it.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Lenore snapped. Obviously she wasn't too badly hurt then. "Dropping me down a bloody dark hole without so much as a "brace yourself"! You know I have bad legs, how could you even think of pulling a stunt like that with me along? Now my ankle hurts, what a wonderfully romantic end to our evening!"

"Firstly, if we hadn't left when we did, I would have strangled your mother to the death. Secondly, I told you to be still; if you couldn't hear me over your shrieks, that's not my fault. And thirdly, the evening is not yet over, mademoiselle. Some people find having an injury fussed over to be somewhat romantic," Erik replied, a devilish grin gracing his face for a brief moment. She would be entirely dependent upon him for the next few days, entirely at his mercy. He could do anything he wished with her while she was injured. Not that you'd ever take advantage of the opportunity. You're too genteel. Don Juan wouldn't let a silly little think like a lady's dignity stop him, you know.

"Well I rather like being able to walk instead of being stuck in bed!" Lenore griped.

Erik swept her feet out from under her and began making his way back to the gondola, hoping it would shut her up. Unfortunately, the 'ignore it and the problem will go away' method didn't work with Lenore's complaining. When he reached the gondola, he decided he'd have to do something to hush her up. Pressing his lips against hers, he flooded her with a sea of passion. It was quite effective in silencing her, and Erik used the opportunity to slip into her mind and place her in a light sleep that would keep her quiet until he got her back to the lair.

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Lenore woke up when Erik's strong arms lifted her out of the gondola. He had tricked her, using a kiss to mask his presence in her mind for putting her to sleep. Damn bastard…this is definitely not love…I can't stand the man!

Oh? Yes, I'm sure that's right. You just can't stand him. That's why you're secretly overjoyed that he's carrying you to bed right now. The scoundrel! How could anyone ever think you might like him?

Lenore grimaced, partially from the throbbing pain in her left ankle and partially from the truth that she couldn't hide from herself no matter how she tried. He laid her in the bed, quickly propping her ankle up on a few pillows. Pushing her skirt up above her knee, Erik began to poke and prod her ankle.

"OW!" she yelled when he pushed on a particular spot. "Let's not touch that area again, hmm?"

"A sprain," Erik diagnosed. "Don't set foot out of this bed within the next forty eight hours."

"Gee, darn," she muttered sarcastically as he left the bedroom. "I'll miss going out walking every day. There's just so many places to go and all that jazz."

Erik returned a few minutes later with bandages and a cold compress. She saw him stiffen in the doorway when he first looked at her and wondered what was wrong. Maybe he was finally feeling a pang of remorse for having put her in this position in the first place. He seemed to gather himself quickly, however, for he hurriedly strode over to her and knelt beside the bed to wrap her ankle.

As he was placing the cold compress on her ankle, Lenore reached out to touch his face, or, more appropriately, the mask. An animalistic growl sounded low in his throat and he grabbed her wrist, holding it tightly so that her fingers stopped just inches from her goal.

"Trust me," she whispered.

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When he had returned to bedroom with the cold compress and some bandages, Erik's eyes fell upon her and he tensed. She was lying on the bed (right where he'd left her and he hadn't really expected her to move), wearing a white dress. So what if it had some blue decoration on it? It was mostly white. And who picked the color, Erik? Stop thinking about it; she'll never be your bride.

Pulling himself together, he quickly returned to tending her injury. He took great care in wrapping her ankle, making sure it was perfectly snug. He began positioning the cold compress when he saw a movement out the corner of his right eye.

Erik caught hold of her wrist just in time, growling softly. How dare she! No respectable woman would ever dare use a moment of a man's defenselessness to expose him as a monster. It seems I'm not as defenseless as you thought, mademoiselle. How could you even consider it, when I'm graciously tending to your injuries?

"Trust me," Lenore whispered softly.

"Trust you?" he replied just as softly, hoping he could get his anger under control. Before he could stop himself, he turned his voice to a mocking tone. " 'Trust me, Erik. I'll only expose the hideous monster underneath and try to flee the moment my ankle's mended. And if I somehow do manage to escape you, I'll run off and get married to my perfect Felix Deville and forget all about you. So trust me, Erik.' You women are all the same; vicious, heartless devils! Yes, women are more monstrous then I'll ever be capable of."

"Let go of my wrist. I promise I won't hurt you," she said sincerely. But she was far too good an actress for him to trust that.

"Liar!" he accused. "Women delight in hurting me. I haven't met a single one who thought otherwise! Oh, but you'll be the first, right? You're going to show me that there's some compassion left in the world?" Erik was slightly startled to realize that she wasn't frightened by his temper as of yet. Most women would be crying and begging him to stop. "I'm afraid I can't believe that; you're willing to defy my wishes and take off my mask." He paused briefly, examining her in that white dress. No! No, don't! Don't say it Erik, don't be a fool!

"There are conditions, you understand, that must be met before I grant you the privilege of seeing me," Erik informed her, his mouth plunging ahead despite the wailing protests of his mind. "You must agree to stay here with me for eternity."

"But, Erik, I"-

"You must stay here, as my wife," he finished, his mind screaming at him to shut up. Lenore blinked, a look of confusion crossing her face. "Of course, you don't need to make your decision right away. You'll want time to think things over, and that's quite understandable."

"Erik, did you drink a lot of wine with dinner?" she asked tentatively.

"Do you have such poor self esteem that you have to make an excuse for a man's behavior when he proposes marriage?" Erik shot back. "Why is your first assumption that I might be intoxicated? Is it inconceivable that a man might actually want you?"

"Um…yes?" Lenore replied as though she wasn't quite sure that was the correct answer.

"You foolish, stupid, naïve little girl," he snarled, lunging forward. He grabbed her forearms and shook her for good measure. "Don't you understand why I avoided you all last week?" Lenore was trembling now, fear starting to shimmer through her eyes. "Every moment of every day was a battle. You don't know how many times I almost lost the fight. That's why I wouldn't look at you; if I had, I would've raped you."

Lenore gasped, her eyes widening. Dear God, why did she have to make it more difficult on him? That simple little gasp had drawn his attention to her bosom for only a split second, and he found his left hand ripping at the knot on the laces of her gown. He placed the perfect left side of his face against her own, so that he could whisper in her ear.

"You know how easy it will be for me to take you, don't you? No one would hear you if you screamed. I far surpass you in physical strength, and if I have a problem holding onto you, I can easily get inside your mind and control you." His fingers had finally managed to work out the knot; in moments he could have that dress off.

"Stop," she pleaded softly. "Just stop."

"Why? Aren't you curious about making love? Why should I stop, ma chouchoute? Give me a good reason," Erik demanded.

"You're scaring me," Lenore whispered, trying to shrink away from him. She might have succeeded if he hadn't been holding her.

"I suppose that will do," he decided. Erik forced himself to let go of her and stand up. "You'll be off your feet for the next two days; use that time to think about my proposition."