We'll Always Have Venice

Thanks to my Beta for helping with the little scenes. Here's to the Last Brisbane Show and watching interviews on the Internet!

I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.

Chapter 1

Five years ago

Christine looked out at the busy streets and canals of Venice below her and sighed. Her fingers fisting in the curtains, she shook her head. Why had she decided to come to Venice – during the Carnivale – a time of revelry and excess – when she was in need of a quiet place to stay and recover…and hide?

She laughed quietly, sadly to herself as she went to get her jewellery and mask. What precisely was she recovering from? Work or a broken heart? She had been asking herself that question for the last two weeks of her holiday and was no closer to finding the answer.

It was Raoul's fault that she was too tired; almost too tired to go out tonight among the masked partygoers of Venice. If he hadn't decided to leave her, furious that she was putting her work before him, she would not have had to lose herself in her work to drown out her pain. It was all a case of the pot calling the kettle black!

When she met Raoul, she was eighteen, just starting university. The handsome and older medical intern who was determined to become a surgeon instantly besotted her. Raoul, however, spent long hours at the hospital, working double shifts and being constantly on call.

Christine, meanwhile, was just as determined to make a good impression on the editors at the paper where she worked as a journalist. And so, when she finished university, their relationship slowly degraded, both too determined to succeed and focus on their work to be a couple. And so, after a large row – with Raoul accusing Christine of putting her work first – the couple went their separate ways. Five years surrendered.

It had taken her almost six months to realise, but when she almost couldn't get out of bed because of exhaustion and her heart no longer ached, Christine finally realised that it was time to take a holiday. And as such, she had arranged a ten-week holiday across Europe.

Returning to the present, Christine looped her bag over her arm and headed for the door. Tonight, she would not think of Raoul. Tonight, she would enjoy herself and be carefree.

Erik looked around at the hundreds of people swarming around him with a soft smile playing at his lips. Feeling like just another tourist, he was able to comfortably move among the crowd without fear. For only two weeks a year, Erik was able to walk among people as if he belonged to their world. He held a glass of champagne and leant against the wall to watch the people around him, at peace with the world.

He unthinkingly placed the glass on a table when he saw a brunette enter the room and look nervously around. Unlike most of the other women here, she had chosen a simple mask, unadorned by plumes. Instead, it was a simple creation of a gold demi-mask covered in antique black lace that matched perfectly with her gold dress. She wandered around aimlessly, trying to get her bearings, unaware that Erik's and several other pairs of eyes followed her.

The longer he watched her, the more he felt drawn to her. Beneath her mask, Erik could just make out her dark green eyes and the gentle line of her jaw and chin. Under her beautiful exterior was a fragility that she was tying very hard to hide. She looked as if she would shatter like a porcelain doll if she were touched.

Without conscious thought, Erik crossed the room to the mysterious woman in the gold mask.

Christine stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching the couples swirl about. Part of her longed to be a part of the crowd, while another wanted to stay apart from it and far away from the handsome Italian males. She kept touching her mask as if to ensure it had not fallen off, ensuring her anonymity.

"Good evening, my lady," a sensual voice whispered in Christine's ear even as a warm hand touched her bare neck.

It was the voice rather than the touch that caused her to spin around and face the owner of the voice. The man towered over her, clearly over six feet tall, making her feel like a tiny pixie at only five feet and two inches. He offered her a glass of champagne, which she accepted with a smile of thanks. Nervously taking a sip, she maintained eye contact with the giant in front of her. She could make out none of his features under his traditional white papier-mâché mask except his midnight blue eyes.

The bubbles of the champagne went straight to Christine's head, making it spin momentarily. She looked at the man and noticed the way his blue eyes smiled down at her, crinkling at the corners. Relaxing slightly, Christine smiled and giggled and offered her free hand to the man.

Old-fashioned, the man bowed over her hand and then touched his false lips to her hand. He glanced up into Christine's dark green eyes in time to see them widen with a combination of shock, confusion and desire.

"Good evening," she responded likewise in Italian.

Unbeknownst to Christine, he smiled under his mask at her very English accented Italian. From those two simple words, he could see that she didn't have the best ability for languages. He had to give her credit for trying her best to fit in with the locals. Actually, her English-Italian was rather endearing.

"And what is my lady's name?" he asked, reverting to English for Christine's sake.

"Christine," she whispered, entranced by his French accent. She dipped a slightly wobbly curtsy, enjoying herself with this mysterious man. "And my lord?"

"Erik." He raised her hand to his lips again. "Come and dance with me, Lady Christine."

Laughing, Christine allowed Erik to use the grip he had on her hand and tuck it into the crook of his elbow before he led her onto the dance floor as the small orchestra began to play a waltz.

He effortlessly led her into the movements of the dance, his hand firm at the small of her back. Erik pulled her close to avoid her being crushed in the mass of dancers, his thighs brushing against hers as they moved together. Drawing in a deep breath, Christine shuddered when she felt her breasts press against Erik's chest.

Erik used the motion of the dance to lead Christine out of the mass and press her against one of the walls. He used his body weight to hold her in place, his hands on either side of her head, imprisoning her. Surprised that she did not feel any fear due to her current position, Christine tilted her head back to look into Erik's eyes.

"Where are you staying, milady?" he whispered against her ear as he touched his shaking fingers to her lips.

"Hotel Piave."

As she looked up into his eyes, Christine's lips rounded into an O of surprise when she saw Erik's eyes darken as he pressed his body harder against hers. She raised a shaking hand from her side to touch his papier-mâché lips. She could feel his warm breath caress her fingertips from between the small gap in the mask.

Christine moistened her lips as she divided her attention between Erik's eyes and his lips. Erik pressed his masked lips to Christine's and pulled away quickly from her, leaving her staring after him, dazed and breathing heavily.

Christine stepped out of the hotel, looking for a gondola or vaporetti to take her to this evening's entertainment that offered traditional Venetian sweets and classical music. The rich gold cloak she had hired for her time in Venice covered the black evening dress with gold paisleys and, along with the mask she wore a few nights ago, hid everything but her chin. She looked at the boats on the canal and when she saw her tall masked man, standing with the rèmo of a gondola, she found herself walking towards him without a thought.

Gripping her dress and cloak in one hand, she smiled brilliantly as she held her hand to him so that he could assist her over the edge. Again she was struck by their height difference; the top of her head only came to his chin. Tonight, he was wearing a black full-mask that only made his eyes appear darker and more intriguing. He saw her settled down on the bench, facing backwards so that they would be able to talk as Erik steered the gondola down the canal.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered as she held her hand out to him.

"I thought I would escort you to the Hotel Luna Baglioni this evening, my lady Christine. A woman as beautiful as you should not be wandering alone."

Christine smiled, entranced by his words, wondering how he knew where she was headed. "And how would you know what I look like with this covering half of my face?" she demanded, gesturing to the mask. She gasped in surprise when he caught her hand and raised it to his lips as they passed under a bridge.

"I know what lies beneath that mask," Erik whispered softly as he knelt in front of Christine after securing the pole in the fòrcola and cupped her cheeks. "A beautiful woman with divine, intelligent eyes with a passionate nature that is hidden beneath her fragile exterior."

"And what, my lord, lies beneath your mask?" she responded flirtatiously, touching Erik's mask with light fingers. "I only wish I knew the man beneath it as well as you seem to know me after only one night."

She leant forward on the bench to touch her lips to Erik's and whimpered when she only felt the cold, unfeeling mask. Her mask bumped against his, increasing her frustration. She tugged her mask from her face, throwing it at her feet and then curled her fingers around the edge of Erik's mask.

"No," he muttered, his voice laced with desperation as he pulled away from her. Wrapping his fingers gently around her wrist, Erik removed her hands from his mask.

Sobbing with frustration, Christine tried to free her hands from his firm grip. "Please, Erik. I want to feel your lips." She joined Erik in kneeling on the bottom of the boat, pressing her body against his. "Please."

Just as desperate to feel her lips against his, Erik closed her eyes with the pad of his thumb. He glanced around, weighing up the probability that someone would see his face in the soft light of dusk and whether he could trust her. "Keep your eyes closed."

She would have done anything he asked if he would just kiss her! She closed her eyes; her brows raised in anticipation as she listened to Erik untie the ribbons that kept his mask in place. When she felt his breath, rather than his fingertips against her lips as she had last night, she tilted her head back, inviting his kiss.

When his lips finally touched hers, Christine moaned and pressed her body harder against his. She tried to free her hands from Erik's firm grip, but he continued to hold her tightly. With his mask gone so that he could give in to what they both desired, he could not have her hands roving about his face and feeling what he was trying so very hard to keep from her.

With great difficulty, Erik pulled away and turned his back on her as he replaced his mask before bidding Christine to open her eyes. He tenderly retied her mask, pressed his masked lips to hers in a cold imitation of the kiss they had just shared before returning to the rèmo.

"Are you coming with me to the party or are you just my chauffeur?" Christine asked, her voice husky as she looked up at Erik with cloudy eyes.

Beneath his mask, Erik smiled and placed another papier maché kiss on her hand.

"Our relationship ended because we were both obsessed with our work," Christine finished with a sad sigh as she held Erik's hand as they took a gondola ride down one of the many canals. She reclined against his chest, her hands covering his as they rested on her stomach.

She was amazed at all the information she had told him in the last week or so. Erik knew everything about her. He knew her hopes, her fears and her life history. Surprisingly, all the information she had given him did not worry her. It just seemed so natural to share all that with him.

And he too had shared more information with Christine than he had with anyone. He had told her how he hated his parents and run away from home at sixteen. He told her how, while he was studying at university, he had played poker because it allowed him to pay his fees and keep to himself. He still – on occasion – played it to help finance his musical composition career.

"We both wanted to succeed so badly that we forgot about each other. Then when Raoul broke up with me, I lost myself in my work again."

"You did not think of the advantages of a relationship?"

"What advantages?" she asked in confusion, cocking her head.

"Someone to love? Someone to spend time with and talk to? Someone to start a family with? Someone to grow old with?" he suggested softly, afraid that she would not understand what he was suggesting.

He had never felt this way with another person before. He felt a connection, an affinity to her that made him want to keep her close to him. Erik looked at her, silently hoping that he had found just the person to do all those things with.

"Raoul and I had that – our jobs."

"But don't you want that?" Erik persisted. "With a man?"

"Of course I do, Erik. And I think I have found that with you. I can easily see us in forty years, still madly in love, with our grandchildren visiting us on the holidays. I would like that." The words had escaped before she could temper them. She had never confessed anything like that to Raoul and was surprised that she had just said those words to Erik after such a short period of time.

Erik looked at Christine. Perhaps he would have a child with her. She did not seem averse to the idea. He smiled as he leant in and kissed her. Perhaps they would even have more than one child!

A short time later at her hotel room, Christine stood in front of the wardrobe, her hands on her hips as she tried to figure out what to wear to dinner. She tilted her head to the side.

"There aren't that many decisions, are there, Christine?" Erik asked, a grin evident in his voice as he watched her from her bed.

She turned around and smiled. "There are, Erik. Do you have any idea how many clothes I bought in Paris?"

Shaking his head, Erik rolled from the bed and went to stand behind Christine. He pushed her loose hair to one side, reached over her shoulders and entwined his fingers with her own over her shoulders. "I have an idea, my darling kitten," he whispered in her ear. "Forget about picking something to wear and we will spend the night in your bed." Erik kissed down her neck and along her collarbone.

Christine smiled and stepped away from him. "Unzip me, please." When she felt the zip release, she turned around with a saucy smile and released her grip on the front of her dress, leaving her standing in front of Erik clad only in her knickers and bra.

Erik pulled her into his arms and pressed a hard, fierce kiss to her lips. Never in his life had he felt such an emotional attraction to another person. He had been trying to control his urge to make love to her since he first saw her, but now that she had given her soul and bared her life, his urges were impossible to restrain. Tonight, he would love her, heart, body and soul.