The man walked on tip toe across the plush area rug. Christine Daae sat in the plush chair; her head bent down in a book. She did not notice him approaching. He placed his soft lips on the exposed nape of her neck.
She shrieked, the book flying up in the air before falling to the floor, "Raoul!"
The young man laughed walking around to face her, "I hate how you wear your hair up now, but it does allow me to do that."
"Raoul, if I wanted to be terrorized by a man, I would have…" The Soprano cut the sentence short before looking around. "Your sisters are not home; you shouldn't be in this section of the house."
"This is to be my estate and if I want to visit my fiancée so be it," The Vicomte kneeled to be face level with her, "Our wedding is Friday. And after everything we have endured, the idea that we need chaperoning is absurd."
"I want them to like me. They already hold certain opinions and judgements about me from our childhood interactions and my profession. I do not want them finding us in a compromising position before we are wed."
"What is so compromising about a kiss?" He reached up and let their lips meet. He pulled away and whispered, "All your kisses are mine now." He leaned in again, this time opening his mouth slightly. He tried to part her pink lips with his tongue but they did not move.
The Vicomte pulled away sighing. Trying to hide his frustration, he caressed her cheek, "Do not let my sisters dictate what you enjoy. We have kissed so many times before."
But not so much since his kisses. His distended lips not knowing what to do but so hungry; ready to swallow me whole. And that second kiss…
"Little Lotte's letting her mind wander again," Raoul chuckled. "And just what is she thinking?"
The singer opened her mouth but a voice came from the other side of the room. "Raoul de Chagny!" Bernadette Sands snapped as soon as the parlor door opened. "I told you we should have taken Christine with us."
"Thank God you are marrying Mme. Daae, or I would say you are just as terrible as Phillippe," Michelle Dupont made the sign of the cross as she walked over to the couple. She bent at the waist to pick up Christine's book and her green walking dress billowing around her, "Wuthering Heights. Really, Christine? Those horrid British sisters? I am astounded Phillippe even had this in his library."
The Diva folded her hands in her lap as her cheeks flushed. Noticing her reaction, Raoul stood tall and spoke loud, "My future wife may read anything she wishes from the library of my future house."
Two beautiful heads of blonde hair turned from the table in which they were sorting boxes from bags. They surveyed their little brother before laughing.
"Raoul, please leave. We still have so much to do with Christine before your wedding," Bernadette took a few steps away from the table, her pink dress rustling.
"Yes," He kissed Christine's hand and exited the room.
"And you, Christine," Bernadette tilted the Soprano's face up with her hand. "You still do not comprehend what you have done when you accepted Raoul's marriage proposal."
"I accepted to be his wife."
"No, you tainted one of the greatest and oldest families of France," Bernadette sat across from her. "It's not your fault Raoul is soft and romantic. Michelle and I did our best but he needed a father figure and Phillippe just was not there. You don't know how long it took us to pull him from our skirts to send him to boarding school."
"We both married late, it's why we have no children of our own," Michelle walked over and sat next to her sister. "Or living children. I've had two miscarriages."
Fighting the tears in her eyes, Christine looked up at her soon to be sister-in-laws, "I am sorry to hear all of this, but why am I the one tainting the family? I have done nothing wrong. Is this all just because I am an opera singer?"
"You're also a dreamer," Michelle held up Wuthering Heights. "Instead of just being an affair, and an acceptable one, for our brother, he fell in love with you. A romantic doesn't need to be with a dreamer. Raoul needs a practical woman; someone who can keep him in check, run the household, entertain; not in your current way. Knowing your history this is nothing in which you are familiar." She stood, "Come, Christine."
The Soprano smoothed her blue dress when she stood before following Michelle over to the table. Bernadette trailed behind her and wrapped her arm around her, "It's not that we don't care for you, Christine. We think you are a lovely woman. It's just the de Chagny name ends with Raoul. Phillippe is a bachelor, we now possess our husbands' names. There's no saving our brother but he loves you and just maybe we can give you a bit of practicality."
Michelle pushed a couple of boxes towards Mme Daae as she smiled, "Open them! Gifts from two sisters to our new sister!"
The first was a book; a book about everything that makes a good wife.
"I want to see you reading that everyday until the wedding," Michelle smiled. "No more dreaming. You have your love and you're going to make a wonderful life for him."
Upon opening the second box, Bernadette whispered, "For your wedding night."
Christine blushed upon finding its contents to be a sheer nightgown with a deep v neckline trimmed with silk lace.
"So she does have some virtue!" Michelle exclaimed.
"What do you mean?" The Diva's face remained red but her voice rose with anger. "Did you think just because I was an opera singer that I had no virtue? That I am not pure?"
Both sisters gasped.
"Oh no no, it's just that…that…you spent time with that, God forgive me for saying his name, The Phantom…"
Tears now pooled in Christine's eyes, "Oh so you think he had his way with me? I guess it never occurred to anyone that a man so touched deprived could never take it. He was just as innocent and pure as I in the ways of the flesh. Excuse me," Christine stormed out of the parlor and into her bedroom, the door slamming and locking behind her.