“Yes.” He sighed over his rash actions. “I’m afraid my anger got the best of me, and I jumped in front of her, telling her to put the damn thing down. Before I knew it, she asked if I owned the establishment. I neither confirmed nor denied it at first. I swore her to secrecy if she wished to get what she wanted.”
“Wanted? What could she possibly want from you?”
“Lessons,” he replied, rather indifferently. “Violin lessons.”
Andrea laughed.
“And what’s so damn funny?” he barked, annoyed at her response.
“You’ve found a new student it appears.”
“She’ll amuse me,” he replied dryly. “You know how quickly I get bored when I have nothing to challenge me. This will no doubt be a challenge indeed.”
“I can see you’re amused already,” she replied with sly drawl.
“Do you know anything else about her?”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Andrea replied. “I do find one thing a bit odd about her, but I can’t quite put it into words.”
“What do you mean by odd?” He leaned forward, showing his curiosity.
“She works well. I have no complaint whatsoever regarding her housekeeping skills, but I always get a slight feeling that she’s hiding something. I just cannot put my finger on it.”
“Hiding what?”
“I don’t know, Erik. It’s just a feeling. You’re the consummate judge of character between the two of us. Perhaps you’ll discover for yourself as the lessons progress.”
“Progress?” He questioned his newest endeavor soulfully as he stood to his feet. “I must be mad thinking I can teach a housekeeper how to play the violin with any proficiency. I would much rather be tutoring…” His voice trailed off as he stopped the thought abruptly.
“A soprano?” she replied barely audible.
Erik’s keen ears heard her statement. It raised the hair on the back of his neck and turned his relaxed countenance into an angry scowl. He briskly pushed the chair back, rose to his feet, and stomped to the door.
Andrea knew that she had hit a nerve. However, when she tested its sensitivity, it only proved to her that Erik remained raw and vulnerable from the past. It made her wonder where it would lead him with his newest student. The golden-haired girl was fair, blue-eyed, and petite-framed, reminiscent of the Scandinavian beauty Erik had once loved. It gave her cause for concern.
“Did she inquire why you wear a mask?” she called out as he reached the door.
“She stared at it, and I promptly told her that she should never wish to see what lay beneath. That should be the end of her curiosity.”
Erik left the room, and Andrea picked up her dropped fork. Oh, dear God, please. Let this not be another one, she pleaded to heaven.
Chapter Ten
Erik paced the orchestra pit like a caged animal as he struggled with a mixture of emotions. He scolded himself for revealing his identity to an unknown housekeeper, but felt eager to teach again. He had no doubt the girl would perform dreadfully, so he braced himself for the certain disappointment that lay ahead. Whether he could hold his temper, while she desecrated the beauty of violin music, would certainly be a test of endurance.
He spoke privately to Richard about his new undertaking, who made no comment one way or the other. Thankfully, his manager kept his opinions to himself, though he wondered if he would do so in Andrea’s presence.
He had arranged for his new pupil to report to Richard’s office after the performance at 10 p.m. Subsequently, Richard would escort her to Erik in the orchestra pit, leave, and lock the doors. No one would see or hear the two of them. Erik held no ulterior motives and thought nothing of the arrangement being improper.
At Erik’s request, Richard chastised the musician who dared to leave his violin unattended. Erik did not know whether to thank or curse him for having caused this new state of affairs through his careless act. In any case, the circumstances had produced entertainment for Erik for which he was thankful.
While waiting for their arrival, his fingers traced along the edges of the music stands. His harmonious mind thought of each instrument ranking them in order of personal preference. He had not been pleased with the performances of the musicians lately, and he had pressured the maestro, Paul De Marco, to add additional rehearsals. Richard conveyed his displeasure on his behalf. Erik did not care if their fingers were raw from strings or their lips swollen from blowing horns. Performances were to be flawless.
The door opened interrupting his thoughts, and Erik stood rigid.
“Mademoiselle Martin, as requested, sir.” Richard assisted her down the stairs into Erik’s presence. “I’ll lock up, as instructed,” he added.
“Fine, return in a half hour, Richard, to retrieve the Mademoiselle. Our first lesson shall be quite short and basic.”
Richard retreated, and Erik looked at his pupil, whose eyes widened when he mentioned locking the doors.
“I won’t hurt you,” he assured her, glancing away and feeling like an ass for having to make her feel safe. “I just prefer privacy and do not wish others to know of my existence. Do you understand?” His eyes spoke of his insistence of anonymity.
“Of course,” she replied apprehensively.
Erik examined her closely, since he felt too irritated during their first encounter to notice her finer points. He allowed his gaze into her blue eyes to linger. They were mesmerizing and calming. Her deep blue irises stunned his senses, her lashes fluttered dark and full, and her eyebrows arched to perfection.
Her face, flawless and pure, sat framed by her golden hair that flowed with long curls. They draped across her shoulders and down the front of her breasts. Erik wondered if her hair glistened in the noonday sun. It looked soft to the touch, and he quickly restrained an urge to lift his hand and feel the silk strands between his fingertips.
Erik cleared his throat in uneasiness, bringing his faculties back in line. He appreciated her beauty, but felt the familiar pang of jealousy prick his heart. She had been blessed at birth with perfection. He, on the other hand, had been cursed by God with imperfection.
Désirée wore a modest dress with a high neck and long sleeves. An odd sense of regret that she lacked a more glamorous gown stabbed his heart, while he wondered why she wasted her beauty working as a housekeeper. Not particularly caring to pry further, he turned his focus to the lessons.
“How much do you know of a violin?” Erick picked up a violin that he had purchased for the occasion. He had already decided that if she excelled, he would give it to her as a gift.
“Very little, I’m afraid.”
At least she’s honest, he thought to himself, as he held the instrument. “Then I shall explain the various parts of the violin first.” Suddenly, a fact he hadn’t considered entered his mind.
“And do you know how to read music, might I ask?”
Her eyes averted his gaze and rested upon the sheet music laying on a nearby stand. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.” She appeared ashamed and shook her head.
“Oh, hell,” Erik cursed aloud. “This is going to take longer than I thought.” His fingers fiddled with the strings. “Well, we’ll just have to remedy that problem. You must be able to read music before I can teach you to play anything.”
“You don’t mind, do you? I’m a fast learner. I’ve always wanted to learn,” she assured him. Her voice sounded desperate.
“We’ll see how quickly you learn.” A sly devious twinkle shined in his eyes, thinking he would break her spirit quickly. “As I said, we’ll start with the basics of the violin itself.”
Erik’s heart rate increased as his long fingers held the instrument before his pupil. His gaze shifted from one beauty to another like an obsessive lover. The tone of his voice became smooth and melodic, while pointing to each piece of the violin with reverence.
“Watch my fingers,” he instructed, as he moved across the instrument, indicating the various parts starting from the top scroll and ending
at the chin rest. After his explanation, he stopped and glanced up to see if she had paid attention. He warily handed the instrument over. “Now, it’s your turn. Point and name to me what I have just recited.”
Carefully, she reached out with her delicate, small fingers and touched the instrument for the first time. Her hands shook. A pang of remorse stabbed his heart thinking she feared him. Erik softened the tone of his voice.
“Go ahead,” he urged. “Don’t be afraid.”
Finally, in silence, she reached for the violin, stared at it for a moment, and then with a deep breath, she repeated her first lesson.
“The scroll, the tuning pegs, the neck, the fingerboard, the upper bout…” Her voice hesitated, and Erik saw her swallow before continuing. “The bridge, the lower bout, the tail piece, the chin rest.” She stopped and her eyes looked into his, begging for approval.
“You’ve forgotten one very important part,” he reminded her softly, trying not to show his disappointment in her error. He reached out and pointed to the F holes.
“The F holes!” she blurted out. A slight rosy blush ran up her neck.
“Correct, Mademoiselle, the most important part where the melodious sound escapes to touch the soul of its listeners.” Erik smiled at his profound, but truthful statement, that music possessed power.
“Désirée,” her voice whispered, interrupting his thoughts.
“I beg your pardon?” His eyes widened in shock.
“Désirée, Monsieur. Please call me by my first name.”
Erik shifted in his stance, uneasy over the familiarity she requested. He wanted to keep their teaching sessions strictly professional, and calling her Mademoiselle gave him the power to do so. Her given name spoken from his lips felt terribly uncomfortable.
“I cannot do that, I’m afraid,” he spoke bluntly. “We must keep such interactions between us formal. To you, I am Monsieur Dante, and you are to me Mademoiselle Martin.” His spine straightened from its lax position until he towered above her, asserting his dominance.
“As you wish,” she relented, fumbling with the violin in her hand.
“Give me the instrument,” he demanded, slightly aggravated. Erik positioned the violin under his chin. The bow rested on the strings until his arm began to move it back and forth, playing a few swelling measures.
“Do you see the position of the violin underneath my chin and how my hand is positioned upon the stem?” He withdrew it from its resting place and handed the instrument back to Désirée. “Now show me how you would hold the instrument.” He watched with impatience when she fiddled with the violin like a child unable to grasp a ball.
“No, no, like this,” he commanded, stepping closer to her. With both hands, he positioned the violin, lowered her chin until it touched the rest, and then proceeded to reach out and adjust her hand around the stem. Her flesh felt warm to his touch. His lack of hesitancy to handle her surprised him.
“One must learn to caress the violin as if it is your lover,” he instructed seriously. “You need to embrace it firmly but gently, until you become one with the instrument. Inspiration will flow from your soul, through your arm and into your hand, causing you to skillfully stroke the strings, like lovers stroke each another until ecstasy is released.”
He ground his teeth over the absurdity of his statement, inwardly cursing himself. How could he teach someone to stroke a lover when he had never experienced such pleasure? Nevertheless, in his own mind, his violin embodied the perfect example of how it would feel to make love. His bow would glide over the strings of a woman’s body, and touch the right notes to elicit the precise melody of bliss. The result would be perfect harmony, as friction of flesh against flesh produced an aria of satisfaction. Two lovers would ultimately be one with music, and their souls would be united in rapturous release.
The thought so troubled him that he stepped back and wiped his brow as it beaded with sweat. Erik wrestled with his hunger to devour the flesh of a woman, and his body responded with arousal. He embarrassingly returned his gaze to Désirée, who stood quietly before him with flushed cheeks. She was obviously aghast over his gross analogy. It was either that, or she noticed the protruding lump in his trousers pants. He felt mortified, and swiftly turned his thoughts elsewhere to stifle the urge.
“I will need to purchase music books for you to learn how to read notes.” He changed the tone of his voice and facial expression to emphasize the seriousness of the situation. “You have much to learn, Mademoiselle, and it will take time. Richard will deliver your study materials to you, and when we meet again, we shall go over the basics of reading music.”
“Whatever you wish,” she replied, lowering the violin.
Her arms held out the instrument toward Erik, and he noted her hands still shook. In haste, he took it. The half-hour had flown by quickly. Erik heard the door open and saw Richard walking down the aisle. He heaved a sigh of relief.
“That’s all for this evening, I’m afraid. Meet me here in two days’ time and we’ll continue.” He lowered his attention to the music stands to avert her eyes. “I have other things I must attend to tomorrow evening before we resume our lessons.”
Erik lifted his gaze with a cold aloofness to make sure she understood their relationship.
“Thank you for teaching me,” she responded. “I know you must think this could be a waste of time, but I am truly devoted to learning.”
Erik said nothing further. Her assurances were insignificant, and he felt stifled in the close quarters of the orchestra pit.
“Until next time.” He turned to leave and stopped Richard on the way up the stairs to whisper in his ear. “Make sure you escort her back to her quarters.”
Erik disappeared and returned to his own private room, closing the panel securely shut. He felt irritated and ill at ease and headed straight for his side table to pour himself a hefty drink of cognac to settle his nerves. He thought he had possessed control of his male urges and desires since Christine departed. Obviously, he had not, even though he swore never to entertain such thoughts again. Rejection had torn his soul apart once, and he wished for no repeat performance.
However, as he gulped his drink, his body confirmed that he had not obliterated his thirst for love and beauty. He lowered the glass and closed his eyes. Désirée’s deep blue irises flashed before him in a vision of loveliness, which he found both troubling and enticing. He heaved a sigh, feeling anxious to be in her presence once more, and wondered what it would be like to kiss another woman’s lips.
Chapter Eleven
Richard knocked on Andrea’s door, and as she opened it, a surprised look crossed her face.
“Mind if I come in?” he nervously asked.
He hoped that she wouldn’t deny his request. They were beginning to mend their strained relationship. It had taken months of working side-by-side doing Erik’s bidding. The reconstruction had driven them together whether they wanted it or not, by dealing with Erik’s overwhelming demands for perfection. They often complained about him behind closed doors to ease their frustrations.
“No, of course, not. Please, come in.” Andrea closed the door, and Richard walked to the divan and sat down.
“What is it, Richard? You look disturbed.”
“Has he told you about his latest endeavor?”
“You mean the girl?” Andrea sighed, walked over, and sat next to him. “Yes, I know.”
“Well, I don’t know about you,” he began, shaking his head back and forth, “but, for some reason, it bothers the hell out of me.” He wasn’t sure if Andrea understood why. Clearly, Erik had a tendency to obsess over women.
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” she reassured him, reaching over and patting his hand. “I think this is much different. The two of us know this isn’t his obsession with Christine Daaé. It’s just something to keep him occupied. You know how he loves to tutor.”
Richard shifted uncomfortably in the seat and sighed. “I don’t know. Something doesn’t sit r
ight with me. Why would he bother trying to teach some woman how to play the violin? It’s undoubtedly a difficult instrument to learn, and you and I both know he’s not about to give her a job in the orchestra when he’s done with this endeavor.”
“Well,” Andrea answered with a huff in defense of her sex, “I think it’s rather kind that he is at least giving the girl an idea of what it’s like. I mean, Richard, just because she’s a woman doesn’t mean she doesn’t have any talent.”
“Perhaps, but I have my concerns.”
“Are you thinking about his moment of madness when…” She abruptly stopped, obviously unable to speak of the incident.
“After he brought down the chandelier in a fit of insanity and dragged Christine against her will to his lair?” At least Richard could say the words that Andrea would not speak. She refused to admit to herself his potential for evil intent.
“You only heard about it, Richard, so don’t go judging him. It was a difficult time, but it’s over now. Christine Daaé is married to the Vicomte de Chagny. The obsession is done and over. I don’t believe this new interest will turn into another one or even a romantic interest, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”
Richard mulled over his own worries regarding Erik. Andrea knew him better than any other person and tended to focus only on the positive qualities. However, Richard could not shake the fear that Erik held some mental instability deep within his psyche, waiting to be unleashed. The man had murdered before, though Andrea would never admit to such monstrosities. When one of his crew died, he had blamed the Ghost, though he had no proof of his involvement. And what about Comte de Chagny’s demise? Did Erik have any involvement in that unfortunate affair? Richard could not believe the Opera Ghost had suddenly reformed and been freed from his dark tendencies. Far from it.
Richard didn’t wish to argue with her further. If he desired to keep the peace between them, he needed to keep his mouth shut. They would rehash the same argument that had broken the two of them apart years before. It would be foolish to risk losing what ground he had gained in healing their relationship. In an effort to show otherwise, he grasped Andrea’s hand.
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