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Love Story	By : PeterH Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > AU/AR Views: 2962 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Love Story

By Peter Harrold

Summary

Christine Mason is sixteen years old and is on a tour of Persia with her mother and father.
She is excited and can’t wait to meet the Persian people and to get gifts for her friends in England. But when a very powerful man sees her…he wants for his own. But Christine will not
Go with him and refuses his advances. Christine has her whole life ahead of her
And marriage (especially) to a very strange and mysterious man
Is the LAST thing she is thinking about. But the mysterious man will not
Take “no” for an answer and kidnaps the beautiful Christine, and he finds
That he has kidnapped no ordinary country girl…but someone who
May match him in strength and possibly passion as well…

DISCLAIMER

I do NOT own ‘The Phantom of the Opera’, or the characters. But I do
Own additionally fictional characters that I have created.
Chapter one: Attraction

Persia, 1923

Christine Mason was so excited. Tonight she’d be going to see the Persian dances. All afternoon she had been shopping with her mother for the perfect out-fit. Christine was ecstatic. Never had she looked so forward to anything; except her sixteenth birthday. The trip to Persia was actually a birthday gift from her father, Charles, and her mother Cordelia. Christine had just turned sixteen and was so happy too. She was becoming a woman and there was nothing Christine wanted more than to be a fully grown, independent woman. But with becoming fully grown comes a price naturally. Since Christine started showing “signs” of womanhood men twice her age, or older, were knocking on her door asking for her hand in marriage. Many of whom had already a previous wife. But unlike many parents Christine’s parents were letting her decide her life.

As Christine prepared in front of a lovely wooden mirror in the hotel that they were staying in while Christine’s mother buttoned up the back of Christine’s lovely white dress. “Are you excited darling?” Cordelia asked her daughter. Christine smiled brightly. “More than excited, Mother.” Christine answered happily. Cordelia smiled at her daughter, she was so full of life and always seemed so happy and Cordelia wouldn’t have her daughter any other way. Christine ran her hands down her dress, smoothing it out and sighed deeply. “When do you think we can leave?” Christine asked turning around to face her mother. Cordelia smiled and shook her head and placed her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Christine, we have twenty minutes. Don’t worry you won’t miss the dances.” The older woman assured her daughter before she departed from the bedroom to her own.

Christine walked slowly over to the window sill and sat down on the small lounge against the wall and looked out the windows of the city. She leaned on her hands as her elbows rested on the sill and she smiled as she starred out the window. The warm summer air blew softly through her window and against her lovely face, stirring her long brown curls gently. But as Christine starred into the beautiful sunset something shook her happy place in the form of a man’s plea for someone to stop something. Christine leaned over the sill a little more and looked down into the alley way by the hotel. Christine’s eyes widened at what she saw. A small young man was pinned to the wall by another man.

And the two men weren’t alone. Leaning against stone wall was a man wearing a black cloak and black clothes with a black mask covering his face. “Please…please I just need more time.” The little young man begged, tears flowing down his face. The man pinning him to the wall punched him in the stomach. “I said tonight as I recall,” The tall man leaning against the wall so calmly. The young man continued to weep. “But I feel…kind tonight, so I am going to cut you a break. But if you’re late next week I’ll be cutting something else.” The masked man warned. The little man shook his head quickly before he was thrown to the ground. “Get out of here.” The man who had punched the young man hissed.

Christine gasped and put a hand over her mouth. Realizing she had been heard when the masked man looked up and looked Christine straight in the eye. Christine couldn’t look away. The masked man seemed to be starring into Christine’s very soul. Christine’s breathing had quickened and her heart sped up. Then as quickly as their stair down had started it ended and the man turned on his heel and headed up the street with his henchman at his side. A knock to Christine’s door made Christine yelp and jump around. Cordelia entered the room. “Darling, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, is everything alright?” Cordelia asked Christine, who shook her head.

A little while later the Mason family was in a car driving to see the Persian dances. The streets were crowded with people awaiting the same thing as the Mason family. Even though Christine was still excited to see the dances Christine couldn’t get what happened earlier that night. Those two ruthless men had overpowered and humiliated that poor young man. Who was that masked man? Why did he wear a mask? Why was he acting like he owned all of Persia himself? Those arrogant men made Christine sick.

Christine tried her best to think about something when they finally arrived at the palace to see the dances. Charles helped both Christine and Cordelia out of the car and they were shown their seats. As Christine waited for the dances to begin Christine scanned the room. There were many Persian upper class men and women and many upper class English and French and some American men and women. But then Christine saw someone that made her heart stop. And he was looking right at her. The same masked man who she had seen in the alley was there. Only there was one thing different about his attire. His mask was different; it was a different mask. It was a half white mask that covered the right side of his face and made him look like a block of hard stone that had come alive.

There was no doubt though that the man was handsome on the left side of his face. He had a clean shaven face, chiseled jaw and features that had been personally carved from marble by Michael Angelo. Christine noticed his amber eyes as well. In the alley when she had first starred into his eyes it had been too dark to see his eyes; but now in the light she could see them perfectly and could see how beautiful they were. Then, for some reason, Christine’s eyes fell on his lips. They were perfectly shaped and look (God forgive her) delicious.

When Christine realized how foolish she must look, starring at a complete stranger, she looked away and tried to hide her blush with her delicate hand. “Are you alright Christine?” Charles asked the young woman. Christine nodded her head with out answering and looked back at the masked man, he was gone. Christine sighed and felt, for some strange reason, disappointment? After the dances were over there was a party with formal dancing, almost like a ball but not. Christine was enjoying herself very much and continued to keep an eye out for the masked man. Christine had found herself a group of her girls her own age to talk to as they enjoyed the party.

“What part of England are you from, Christine?” a young girl named Giselle Mitchell asked. “Liverpool and yourself?” Christine asked. But Giselle didn’t answer.

All of the young women were starring at someone behind Christine. Christine turned around to see what they were starring at and low and behold the masked man. Christine had to keep herself from gasping. “Mademoiselle, may I have this dance?” the man asked her, his voice deep and melodic and hypnotic. Christine wanted desperately to dance with the strange man but a voice inside of her head told her not too. It was her conscious telling her this was a bad idea, and that this was not the type of man Christine should be hanging around. “I must decline.” Christine said to man. The younger women’s eyes widened. “I insist,” the man continued. Christine shook her head and sighed. “Well…I desist.” Christine snapped back.

For some reason Christine saw amusement on the man’s handsome face and the corner’s of his lips twitching into a smirk. Christine went to turn away but suddenly her hand was grabbed and she was pulled towards the dance floor and before she could protest a waltz/tango began and she found herself waltzing with the masked man. Christine was pulled hard against the man as he began to lead the dance. Christine was baffled that a gentleman would be so…forceful. Christine had made it quite clear she had no interest in dancing with this man (even though she did inside) but it was as if he had read her mind. Christine didn’t want to imagine the looks on her parent’s faces. Christine felt embarrassed and the moment was rather awkward, at least for Christine.

Christine sighed and dared look up at the man; and sure enough he was starring at her. “Mademoiselle Mason, you must try and relax.” The man told her after Christine looked away from him, blushing madly. Christine shook her head slowly. “How do you know my name?” Christine demanded from him lowly so no one else (and everyone who was starring at them) could hear them. The man laughed darkly down at Christine and he leaned in till his soft lips were brushing against Christine’s earlobe and she shivered at the very intimate contact. “You’d be surprised, Mademoiselle Mason, very surprised at what I know.” He whispered seductively into her ear.

Christine was fighting so many battles at the moment. There was the battle not to faint from his voice, the battle not to cry out in the delight of the way his lips felt against her ear, and the battle not to let her knees buckle. How could a man she knew to be a brute and ruthless be her undoing. “Do you have a name, Monsieur?” Christine asked him, after regaining her breath and slowing her heart beat. Christine was suddenly pulled back and dipped. Her years of being a dancer taught her to adapt to the position quickly. She starred up at the masked man as he dipped her low, with one hand on the back of her neck, and his arm around her waist. “You may call me, Erik.” He said with a smirk. Christine gasped when she was quickly pulled up from the dip and pulled against the man that now insisted she call Erik.

When the song was over Christine was disappointed and relieved. She didn’t know how much longer she could dance if she was still in the arms of Erik. Erik took Christine’s small, ungloved hand in his own leather covered hand and kissed it, his lips lingering for only a split moment. “Have a wonderful, evening, I am sure we will be seeing each other again.” Erik said, that smirk still upon his face. And with a bow to Christine he departed from the party, a man in black following him closely. Christine was so shocked and in such a hypnotic state that when her parents came and asked who the devil she had been dancing with Christine couldn’t answer…but she knew-no she had a feeling she might just have danced with the devil himself.
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