Hey all. Sorry this chapter is a little late. My first week back at school sort of threw me off. But anyway here it is so I hope you all enjoy it!

A huge thanks to Terpsichore for her editing and suggestions. She was super helpful as always (especially considering how busy she was this weekend). And also I would like to say that I love all of those who having been reviewing the last few chapters. I love hearing from you so thanks for sending your thoughts along.

Oh and also in a bid to bribe me to update faster Silvan decided to send me another fanart. And it is so cool! Unfortunately I don't have a link for this one so if you want to see just drop me a note and I will send it along!

Chapter 56: Moving Forward

Erik's vision grayed, tunneling down until he could see nothing but her face, feel nothing but the give of her flesh under his. Clenching his hands in the sheets on either side of her head, he felt something primal curl within him, rushing through his blood and building until he was sure he would die. Then, just as he was tilting over the edge of some unknown precipice, Brielle's entire body stiffened under his, his name falling from her lips on a low moan. He had a split second to worry over this reaction before the coiling pressure within him sprang loose, kicking all rational thought from his mind. Nothing else registered, nothing else mattered.

The sound of his own ragged breathing was the first awareness of the real world to return to him; it echoed abnormally loudly in his ears as he struggled to orient himself. Blinking rapidly, he saw the finely woven strands of the sheets mere inches from his face. Lifting his head, he turned his gaze slightly to the side. Brielle lay with her eyes tightly shut, a light sheen of sweet making her pale face glow like fine pearls in the lamplight. Have I been lying here for minutes or hours? he wondered, all the while staring at Brielle as his mind stuttered back into motion.

Shifting under him, Brielle opened dazed eyes to gaze up at him. After a moment the cobwebs cleared, and she tried to take a deep breath. "Erik, love, you have to get off now or I will suffocate," she murmured breathlessly.

Raising his eyebrows at her statement, Erik jerked up onto his elbows. "Pardon me, I wasn't thinking," he stuttered as he rolled to the side. Now that his head was clearing, uncertainty and embarrassment rolled in on the heels of passion's retreat.

Brielle burst out laughing then, pulling his gaze down from the ceiling to her face. "What?" he asked slowly, looking around the room in a bid to find what was so funny. Waving off his question, Brielle covered her mouth, muffling the giggles still bubbling out of her, unable, at the moment, to form words. As he stared at her smiling face a frown began to pull down at the corners of his mouth. What is she laughing about? he worried. God…I must have done something stupid! Why would I think that I would be any good at any of this! Raising a hand to scrub over his face, he opened his mouth to apologize when Brielle slid her palm over his mouth.

"Stop it," she demanded sternly, the laughter from a moment ago completely gone from her voice, but still dancing in her heavy lidded eyes.

Reaching up to peel her hand from his mouth, he shot her a glare. "What? Stop what?"

Watching him carefully with those storm-colored eyes, Brielle propped herself up onto her elbow, a lazy smile pulling at her heart-shaped mouth, her hair flowing loose about her shoulders. "Second guessing yourself, worrying, brooding about something or another. I can tell when you do that, you know…"

"Yes, yes. I know…you are a goddamn mind reader," he said more harshly than he had intended.

"Nooo…" Brielle replied cheerfully, ignoring his tone. Raising her hand she rubbed her thumb along the worry line between his brows. "I can tell because when you are brooding about something, a cute little furrow appears on your forehead."

Staring at her, Erik couldn't seem to hold onto his frown. "Then why were you laughing just now?" he demanded, grabbing hold of a sheet corner to pull modestly over himself.

Dropping her hand from his face, she leaned forward. "'Pardon me, I wasn't thinking,'" she said with the overdone French accent she always used when mimicking him. "I don't know why that struck me as so funny. When you get uncomfortable you become more polite. It just seemed silly after…well, how close we had just been."

Watching her warily for a moment, Erik finally eased back against the pillows. "Oh…is that all?" he asked casually, shooting her glances out of the corner of his eye, completely at a loss as to what to do now. What is the proper decorum for this type of situation? Pausing for a split second he winced at his own thought. God damn I DO become more polite when I am uneasy!

"Yes, that is all," she murmured, scooting closer to his side until the heat of her skin warmed his hip through the sheet, sending shivers racing up his spine. Unlike him, she had not bothered to pull the blankets over herself, choosing instead to lie on her stomach with her feet crossed in the air. Her proximity and her seeming unconcern with her own nakedness was beginning to distract him, and unbidden his eyes flickered away from her face and down the graceful curve of her back. How is she so comfortable like that?

"Well, that is…good," he said stupidly as he stared at her curves with open curiosity. He had been so caught up in the feel of her hands before that this was the first time he had seen her, and just her. Without the layers of clothing, without the petticoats and yards of concealing fabric, without any sort of adornment whatsoever, she was still devastatingly beautiful. Clenching his jaw, Erik tried to ignore the new spark of desire already tightening his stomach muscles. Noticing his line of sight, Brielle ducked her head slightly, a blush glowing in her cheeks. I guess she isn't as unconcerned as I thought, Erik thought momentarily, his worry fading slightly in the face of her bashfulness.

Reaching back to tug some of the sheets over herself, she flashed a lopsided smile, for the first time since he had known her looking as if she didn't know what to say. Erik was surprised how endearing her slight hesitation was, and despite himself he couldn't help but relax. Somehow knowing she had her own insecurities helped his own, tamping down on the insidious negative whisperings in his head.

"By the way," she began whilst running her finger along the seams of the pillow sham, a little bit of her usual spark and humor dancing in her eyes as she slowly brought them back up to his face. "It appears, sir, that you have done quite a bit more than just a little reading on…how should I put this…the nocturnal arts."

"Excuse me?" he asked, his eyebrows soaring up to his hairline.

Wrinkling her nose at him, she reached out and gave him a poke in the ribs. "Sweet Mary…you are going to make me say it right out, aren't you? What I mean to say is that you learn extremely fast. Had I known that this would be so enjoyable, I would have seduced you long ago." With that said, she bit her lip and turned her head to bury her face in a nearby pillow. "Oh God, I can't believe I just said that!"

Stunned, Erik could only stare at her as she turned a deep shade of red. Wait…she just said that…it went well…didn't she? I did not mess things up. Slowly a smile spread across his face and a deep sense of satisfied arrogance swept through him. Suddenly he couldn't wait to try their 'nocturnal arts' again, and try out a few of the things he had read about. Grinning now, the little voice in his head grew quiet and glowing warmth spread through his chest. How did I not realize it before…God I love this woman.

Emboldened he reached out, for the first time without any encouragement, and ran his fingers down her arm, amazed that he should finally be allowed such a simple luxury as to touch in such a casual manner, like a normal man. Reacting to his caress, Brielle brought her head up to smile at him over the pillow. "I could not have had a better teacher," Erik murmured, pleased when Brielle's smile grew.

Scooting forward she came up flush beside him, their bare hips brushing under the sheets as Brielle laid her head against the curve of his shoulder, one hand comfortably splaying across his bare chest. A moment passed as Erik closed his eyes, soaking in the feather light pressure of her hand upon his skin, tucking it away in his mind. Curving his arm around her waist, he drew her closer, tilting his head to the side to rest his chin against her soft head. She sighed at his touch, welcoming it with such acceptance that Erik felt shaken down to the very bottom of his soul. The only thing I cannot understand is why. Why is she so willing to allow me to touch her…when she knows who I am…what I…what I look like?

"Brielle?" he asked softly. "Why…did you decide to…" Clearing his throat a bit uncomfortably, he stopped there, unsure of how to voice the question now looming in the back of his mind.

"What? Throw myself at you?" she supplied, the feel of her breath upon his skin sending delighted shivers over his skin.

Nodding silently, he ran his fingers gently along her back, going lower to the swell of her hip when she didn't seem to mind his liberties. Shifting, she raised her head from his shoulder to look up at him. "Because if I hadn't we would have never resolved anything. And though I know you don't want to hear this, you are a fine specimen of a man. Mask or no mask…" she said, raising a hand to trace a finger along the outer edge of his mask.

Shuddering at her touch, he tried to wrap his mind around her answer, but found the task just out of his reach. A lifetime of hiding and shame simply couldn't be wiped away with one gentle sentence, despite how much he wanted it to. "I know you must feel glad to be alive after your close call this week. Every time a person cheats death it is understandable for them to experience a time of…heightened compulsory actions," he blurted out without thinking.

He barely had a moment to rethink what he had just said before Brielle stiffened next to him, all her soft curves turning to iron in the blink of an eye. She continued to stare up at his face but her eyes had lost their laughter and now bore into his with an intensity that could melt lead. It was at that moment Erik realized his mistake.

"So you think that because I am grateful to you for saving me that I slept with you?" she asked quietly, the Irish in her voice thickening like a sea fog, a clear sign of her growing agitation.

Opening his mouth to reply, Erik was stopped when Brielle clamped a hand roughly over his lips. Her entire body shaking next to his, she raised herself up so that they were eye to eye. "Blast you, stupid man!" she hissed, cursing his name in a string of Gaelic as she turned and grabbed a pillow to smash it down over his head.

Fighting off her attack, Erik struggled to sit up in order to avoid being smothered. "That isn't what I meant!" he yelped as he grappled for Brielle's wrists.

"Despite what you think I wouldn't give myself to any man out of gratitude!" she railed down at him. "I am not some penny whore anyone can find on a Dublin street corner!"

Finally catching hold of her hands, Erik threw the pillow aside. "That is not what I meant! Despite what you think I am completely out of my element here! I hear the words you say, but it is difficult for me to grasp them. So of course it is a given that I am going to say something stupid!"

Stopping her struggle, Brielle pursed her lips into an irritated line. After a few tense moments, the fire faded from her eyes and her hands relaxed in his hold. "Yes, I suppose it is a given you will say something stupid," she agreed finally.

"You don't have to agree to that so easily," he muttered with mild irritation.

Pulling the sheet up to wrap about her torso, Brielle sat back and frowned at Erik, her ire not yet completely squelched. "You know very well the only reason why I would choose to have relations with you. I told you that I loved you several times."

"Would you believe me if I told you that I assumed you meant a platonic kind of love?" Erik asked, wincing at how silly that sounded when said aloud.

Rolling her eyes skyward, Brielle let out a sigh. "Are you serious?"

Propping himself up onto his elbows, he leaned back against the headboard. "Yes, I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

Disbelief had Brielle's mouth falling open. Then with a shake of her head, she let out a short burst of laughter. "So the fact that we had kissed on several occasions never entered your mind?"

"Uh…well…"

Waving a hand, Brielle brushed that aside. "Just so we are clear then…everything that just happened was definitely not platonic."

"I am not stupid," Erik grumped, feeling the full weight of his own naiveté. How long have we been dancing around this? How much time have we wasted when we could have been together? he wondered as he closed his eyes. "But I can understand your anger. I should not have insulted you by suggesting that you would bestow your affections upon me for any other reason besides love. Your heart would allow for nothing else."

"Well I suppose I can forgive you," Brielle said grudgingly, as she flopped back against the headboard next to him. "Besides, I am just a little too tired at the moment to fight with you."

Silence stretched out between them as Erik searched the ceiling for something to say. It had been a long time since he had found it difficult to speak freely with Brielle. Biting his lip, he stole a glance her way, tapping his index finger against his stomach. "How long have you known? How you felt about me, that is…"

"Do you want to know when I realized it or when I first felt it?" she replied, her hand absently sliding across the mattress until she linked her fingers with his.

"Both."

"I realized it after you pulled Aria out of the lake when she had fallen through the ice."

"So long ago?" he murmured, feeling like a fool because it had taken her near death to squeeze the same realization out of his stubborn brain.

"But I have to admit that the first time I felt that there was something…different about you…was the first time I touched you…when I found you under the Opera. Strange that I should remember it so clearly…but when you leaned against me as we made our way out I recall that I thought it odd that we should fit together so well. I was the perfect height for you to lean against and you were the perfect height for me to hold up," she stated with certainty.

Slowly slouching sideways, drawing closer to the warmth emitting from his body, Brielle curled up against him. "Now can I ask you a question?" she asked.

Drawing in a quick intake of breath, Erik felt a moment of panic wash over his mind. Somehow he was certain she was about to ask him when it was that he realized his feelings for her. And though there was no risk in telling her that he loved her, since she had already confessed her feelings for him, he felt like a fool for how long it took him to know his own emotions. I have only ever said those words once before…to Christine. And look how that turned out. NO…No…this is different! Don't even think about it.

"Certainly…" he finally replied, hearing the worry in his own voice.

"What is your favorite color?" Brielle asked lightly, her tone shifting as if she had sensed his discomfort. The casual question caught Erik completely off guard.

"Excuse me?" he asked as he stared at her, his brow wrinkling in thought. How is it that when I am sure I have figured her out she always proves me wrong? Never pushing when I am sure she will, and always pestering about something that doesn't seem important.

Stretching lazily, Brielle hooked a leg over one of his, making him jump at the touch of her silky skin against his. "I know it is silly to want to know such a thing…but…I suppose I…want to know you better. You are always so quiet about yourself and I feel at a huge disadvantage, considering how much you know about me."

Relieved to have escaped with such an easy question, Erik let out a laugh. "Out of all the things you could have asked…" he chuckled as he shook his head. Without looking down at her, he could feel her frown focused upon him and so he hastily stopped laughing to give the appearance that he was seriously considering her question. "Well, let's see…I don't think I have ever really thought about it."

Waiting without saying a word, Brielle merely inclined her head to watch him. After a few moments Erik felt his eyes drawn downward to meet hers, his smile sobering as he allowed himself to study her classic features. "Gray, I think," he murmured.

"Hmm?" Brielle raised her eyebrows, her lovely fog-colored eyes shifting as if she had forgotten her own question whilst looking up at him.

"My favorite color," Erik clarified, reaching out to trace the very tips of his fingers along her cheek, watching as her eyes grew dark and heavy at his touch. "My favorite color is gray."

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Walking down a Parisian street at midday, Conner hunched his shoulders against the chilly wind, shifting Aria on one hip as he adjusted her winter coat. Splashing through an icy puddle, he dodged the other people moving down the sidewalk with ease, ignoring the glowing smiles of the women he passed. Frowning at the ground directly in front of his feet, he only looked up to check street signs before moving on, making his way further and further away from the Opera with a steady and determined gait.

"Uncle C-Connner…where are w-we g-going?" the child asked loudly to make her voice carry over the wind.

Relaxing the frown upon his face, Conner smiled at his niece. "It is a secret adventure so I can't tell you."

Covering her mouth with her mittens, Aria let out a giggle and shook her head at Conner. "You are a l-liar!" she squealed before wrapping her arms around his neck. "W-Where are we r-really going?"

"Ah, you are too smart for me, lass," Conner laughed in reply as he shifted her squirming form in his arms. Aria nodded happily to that, swinging her legs back and forth as Conner walked. "We are looking for a flower shop, love, if you really must know."

"I l-love flowers!"

Raising his free hand to rub at his ear after the overzealous exclamation, the redhead winced slightly. "Inside voice, Aria, for the love of God. You are going to make your poor uncle go deaf."

"But I c-can't use m-my inside voice," she stated coyly. "W-We are outside r-right now."

Glancing down at the innocent grin upon the girl's face, the Irishman burst out into raucous laughter, drawing several alarmed glances to his uncouth outburst. "By God, if you aren't right! I pity the man that is going to go toe-to-toe with you in fifteen years."

"Eww, I h-hate boys. Except for y-you and Erik."

Nodding in understanding, Conner patted her back in a calming gesture. "All right then, never you mind." Spotting their destination across the street, the redhead paused at the curb. Quickly dashing to the other side of the road, with Aria bouncing upon his hip, Conner once again began to frown as they approached the flower shop.

"A-Are we g-going to g-go get Meg some flowers?" Aria asked when they were only a few shops away from the little store another member of the orchestra had recommended to him.

"Yep."

"W-What k-kind does she like?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

Raising a hand to cup about his ear, Aria loudly whispered over the wind. "Y-You are in t-trouble, then!" she sang.

Completely agreeing with the child, Conner's frown only grew fiercer. Lord, she has no idea how much trouble I actually am in. Staring up at the florist's sign as they drew closer to the shop, the redhead hardly paid any attention to where he was going. Roses seem clichéd. Damn it I should have asked around and found out what she liked. His thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he ran smack into a petite brunette, nearly knocking the woman off the sidewalk.

Aria let out a startled squeal as he shot out a hand to steady the young lady he had bumped into. "Pardon me! I wasn't paying attention as to where I was going. I…" Trailing off, his forest green eyes dropped to the woman's face. Recognizing the girl, Conner openly winced and took a hasty step back.

"Madame De Chagny? My word, what a small world. Um…what are you doing in this part of town?"

Startled, Christine blinked up at him for a few seconds, then slowly smiled. "Monsieur Sinclair? My, you scared me!" Raising a delicate hand to the fur-trimmed hat sitting atop her head, the vicomtesse's dark eyes moved from Conner's face to Aria's. A slight frown crinkled her brow as she lowered her hand. "The hotel I am staying in is just across the street," she said absently.

"Ah…well…Sorry again for plowing into you," Conner said quickly. Giving the girl a nod, he moved to step around her. "Good day to you."

Walking away from the girl stiffly, Conner mentally cursed when he heard the soft clicking of her heels following him down the sidewalk. Aria turned her head to look over his shoulder. "Uncle C-Conner…C-Christine is following you."

"Monsieur Sinclair!" Christine called as she hurried to catch up to him. With her breath puffing out in a cloud in front of her face, she came up alongside of him.

"Yes?" he replied lightly, purposely elongating his stride to force the girl to hurry to keep up. Hopefully she will go away if she has to run.

"I am sure you are aware that Meg and I have been friends for a very long time," Christine stated, her curls bouncing as she struggled to keep up with him.

"Yep," he replied shortly, feeling his usually good humor begin to slip away. He had seen this delicate-looking beauty turn into a raving lunatic, and he didn't care to expose himself to such an unpredictable woman for long.

"So I think you should know that she is partial to daisies."

Stopping in his tracks, Conner turned his head to look over at the vicomtesse. "Excuse me?"

Catching her breath, Christine repeated her statement, giving an uncomfortable little shrug when Conner only continued to stare at her. "Why are you telling me this?" he finally demanded.

"Well…I noticed you are heading toward the flower shop. I have also noticed how much attention you have been paying to Meg. Was I wrong to assume that you are going to get some flowers for her?" she asked, folding her hands in front of her.

"Excuse me for saying this, but I am a little surprised you have been able to notice much of anything lately…considering your…conduct at the Opera."

Looking uncomfortable, Christine dropped her eyes to the floor, and suddenly Conner felt like a rat for barbing her. "Yes…I suppose I deserve that," she murmured with a deflated little smile. "That place…holds many memories. Just by walking within its walls…brings them all back…. It made me feel like I was back there again…back to the person I was then."

"So you are a different person now?" he asked, a little stunned that this woman he hardly knew was confiding so much to him.

"Everyone changes…even people like me. At least I am trying anyway." Raising her soft dark eyes to his, she gave herself a little shake and then flashed a winning smile. "You seem to be a nice man. After all, it seems you are taking a turn at looking after Madame Donovan's child while she is…ill." Looking at Aria, then back to Conner, she rubbed her hands together. "So Meg likes daisies, all right. And if you happened to mention some of the places you have traveled to it would do you some good."

"Um, thanks…" Conner said as Christine turned away to look back over her shoulder.

"I really should be going," she said with a quick wave. Raising his hand in an automatic gesture, Conner waved her off as the vicomtesse turned and swept off down the street.

"That was…odd," the redhead muttered as he watched Christine disappear from view. Looking down at Aria, he made a face and turned to wander, dazed, toward the flower shop door. Entering the shop, he set Aria on the floor so that she could scamper about as he perused the colorful bouquets.

Stopping in front of the daisies, he frowned down at the white flowers. I don't know of a reason that Madame De Chagny would lie to me over something as silly as flowers. Yet, from what I have seen of her behavior so far, it just seems very odd for her to help out a stranger for no reason. Perhaps there is more to the vicomtesse than what I have seen, he allowed grudgingly, as he took up an armful of daisies and quickly paid for them.

Strolling out the door, with Aria on his heels, Conner couldn't help but smile to himself. All of a sudden he didn't feel as lost as he had, some of his normal confidence was returning to him. It makes sense she would like daisies. They are a happy sort of flower, without too much fuss. They suit her. Looking down to take Aria's hand in his, he began to whistle to himself. It is about time I take a hold of myself and get down to business. Enough fooling around.

Aria looked up at him and grinned. "S-She is going t-to really like these. I j-just know it."

"Glad to hear that from you, lass. It puts my heart at ease," he laughed as he led the way through the pedestrian traffic back towards the Opera. Nearing the grand boulevards that led up to the theater, Conner caught sight of the tall figure of James Turner on the other side of the street moving quickly in the opposite direction, his every step seeming as he were on the brink of running. The tenor turned a corner and was gone before Conner could even consider crossing to greet him.

Shrugging, Conner bent at the waist and swept Aria up in one arm, carrying her on the opposite side of the flowers. Picking up his pace, he bounced her as he walked until he laughed with glee, her cheeks a bright pink from the wind. Quickly making his way to one of the Opera's less used entrances, he eagerly climbed the stairs and opened the closed door. Seeing Father Thomas on the other side, Conner halted his progress and smiled.

"Hello there, Father. Sorry I nearly ran into you…it is becoming a horrible habit today."

Blinking owlishly through his spectacles, the priest shifted and gave a harried smile. "Think nothing of it."

"Are you on your way out, then? It is a nice clear day even if it is still cold."

Glancing at the flowers, Father Thomas nodded in response to Conner's statement, seeming more than slightly preoccupied. "That is nice to know. I had hoped to get some fresh air on the way to a meeting I have with some of my superiors at the abbey."

Winking at the priest, trying to lighten the man's sober mood, Conner stepped to the side to allow him to pass. "Have we been taxing you terribly here, Father? I swear I will come for confession soon!"

The worry faded slightly from the other man's eyes as a laugh escaped him. "I will not hold my breath, monsieur, but if you do decide to come, do give me some warning."

"Why is that?"

"So I can set aside a day or so to hear the entire thing without interruption," the priest replied without missing a beat, as he strode past Conner with a wave.

Barking out a laugh, Conner shook his head. "I knew there was a reason I liked you!" he called loudly before turning and entering the Opera. Setting Aria back on her feet, he closed the door behind them, already planning on exactly how he was going to go about courting a certain blonde dancer. Noting the child's sudden solemn attitude, Conner patted her head.

"What is it, lass? Are you worried about your Momma?" When Aria only shrugged, Conner reached down to run his hand over her dark head. "Don't worry, she will be fine. Erik is taking care of her," he soothed. "Do you want to come and help me surprise Meg?"

Nodding, Aria reached up and took hold of his pant leg, her dimples showing as she smiled at the idea. "T-That will b-be fun."

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Hurrying along the crowded streets, the man made his way through the masses with a purposeful stride. Keeping his head up, he searched street signs to make certain he was going in the correct direction. A thoughtful frown marred his forehead as he picked up his pace, wanting very much to reach his destination. I think it is about time that I find out the full story of what is going on within that place, he told himself over and over again to keep the anxiety churning within his stomach at bay.

Passing into a more stylish section of town, the man slowed his pace, looking more carefully at the addresses as he passed them. Finding the building he was looking for, he hastily pushed open the front door and walked into a well appointed lobby. A young man sitting behind a desk looked up at his entrance and frowned.

"Can I help you with something?" the young clerk asked politely.

"I came to see Lord Donovan."

"Do you have an appointment?" came the curt reply.

"Well…no."

"Then I am afraid you will have to come back another time," the clerk recited mechanically as if he had said the speech a thousand times. "Monsieur Donovan is extremely busy and cannot see anyone at the moment. He is in the middle of some extremely important business."

Ignoring this, the man moved towards the closed doors behind the clerk. "I don't have time for this. I have to see him today!"

The clerk rose to block the man, and it appeared that there was going to be a scene. One of the double doors behind the clerk's desk opened just then. The cool voice that drifted out of the opening stopped all activity out in the lobby. "Let him in. It is all right."

Shooting a disapproving glance at the intruder, the clerk straightened his coat and retook his seat at the desk. Likewise straightening his clothing, the man passed by the desk and through the now open door. Andrew stood on the other side, his face impassive as he reached out to slide the door shut, but his dark eyes held a fire that gave the man pause. Without a word Andrew turned and strode off down a marble lined hall, passing several other doors where other clerks were busily at work. The man gaped slightly at the intense operation going on all around him. I had no idea Lord Donovan ran such a place…I mean I knew he was a business man, but I suppose I figured he wasn't so involved.

Reaching a large mahogany door at the end of the hall, Andrew pulled it open with a careful control and strode into the office beyond. The young lord waited until the door was shut behind them before he turned. "Please tell me that you have some information for me," he began sharply. "I would like some reason for this intrusion. Have you done what I asked? Have you found her?"

"Yes, my lord," the man replied. "I have seen her. You were right. She is there."

The fire faded from Andrew's gaze as he sagged back against his desk, a weak smile flashing across his face. His hard black eyes softening as he stared at the floor. "Thank God," he murmured to himself. "I was beginning to think I had been wrong." Pushing away from his desk, he came across the room, his attitude completely different from how he had appeared in the lobby, all fevered concern now. "Tell me…how is she? What has she been doing there? Is she all right?"

Startled by Andrew's uncharacteristic candor, the man could only stare for a moment. "My lord, before I can say anything else I must know the full story behind all of this."

His eyes quickly cooling, Andrew raised his chin. "Oh? So you must know? And why should I be compelled to explain myself to you?"

"I cannot convey any information that might harm a young lady, my lord. She seems happy there and I cannot understand why…."

Raising a hand for silence, Andrew nodded. "Ah, I see. You are worried for her welfare. I suppose I can understand that, considering I have been able to think of hardly anything but her welfare for the last few months. I will grant your wish, then…and tell you why all the secrecy is needed."

Turning, the young lord went to sit behind his desk, gesturing to his guest with a polite air for him to likewise sit. Leaning back in his chair, Andrew steepled his fingers and regarded the other man with sharp dark eyes. "This whole sorry tale started about a year ago. I am sure you heard about the disaster last January. Brielle was there that night to see the new opera with her brother. When the theater caught fire she stayed to help the injured as best she could." Smiling, Andrew shrugged. "She has always been like that. Too kind for her own good." Waving off that sentiment, Andrew continued. "She found a man there in the fire, a masked man. Evidently he was very close to death but she took him in and cared for him without knowing who he really was."

Sitting up straighter, the other man looked slightly alarmed. "A masked man!"

A dark light flickered behind Andrew's eyes as he nodded. "From your reaction I assume you have heard of the phantom. Good…it saves me some explaining. Needless to say, he did not die that night but stayed with Brielle…becoming Arianna's tutor when he got well. Slowly he spread his evil into her household, poisoning her mind with lies all the while, poisoning her brother's mind as well." Pausing there as if too distressed to continue, Andrew cleared his throat.

"I am not an overly emotional man…so it was easy for him to turn them all against me. Criminals and murderers are often talented in deceiving people. Needless to say, that though I was engaged to her, he was able to force her to leave her home and come here."

Biting his lip as he processed this information, the man shifted in his chair. "But she looks happy…."

Waving this off, Andrew sat forward. "As I have said, he has great control over others. But I am convinced that they are all still in great danger. He has killed and will kill again. You must help me before it is too late," Andrew said, his tone rising quickly to an almost pleading note.

Nodding quickly, the man rose. "Of course I will…I had no idea that…well…of any of this. Just tell me what to do. That poor woman…I didn't know."

"Continue on as you have for now," Andrew said as he likewise stood and walked to the door, ushering the other man along with him. "I will contact you soon. I have a plan in order to get her away from him without anyone getting hurt."

"Surely we should call the police."

"No!" Andrew bit out sharply before taking a breath and starting over. "No…. He is a smart man and would see it coming. That is the reason for the secrecy and so for now we must be careful. Can I count on you?"

After a short pause, the other man gave a nod. "Good…you are doing the right thing…maybe even saving many lives. Wait for word from me."

Urging the other man smoothly out the door, Andrew shut it after watching his accomplice hurry down the hall. Closing the door quietly, a triumphant smirk slid across the young lord's imperial features. "Perfect…he believed everything…" he breathed, his voice low with promised threat. "Soon…soon we will be together again." Laughing aloud, he turned and leaned against the door, the relief swimming through his body making his knees weak.

Raising a hand to run through his perfectly combed hair the young lord continued to laugh hollowly. You'll see John. She will pick me…I had to wait but I know now she will see the light. She will pick me. She will love me as I have always loved her. She will finally be mine…and only mine. And maybe…maybe finally…I won't have to feel so empty inside anymore. With her by my side…I can finally be complete. Sighing heavily Andrew straightened and opened his office door.

"Tucker!" he called down the hall, causing a young man to stick his head out of one of the other office doors. "Please call my lawyers. I would like to further discuss the custody suite with them…immediately."