A Second Chance

DISCLAIMER:

Title: A Second Chance.
Author: Larissa
Summary: She has the courage to save his life and give him a new one. Based on Susan Kay's and Gerard Butler's phantom.
Rating: R.
Pairing(s): Erik/Melanie and Erik/Christine.
Feedback: desired and appreciated.
Characters: Erik from Susan Kay's book "Phantom" and from Gerard Butler's interpretation.
Disclaimer: I do not own Erik, Christina and Daroga. The other characters listed in this story are all mine. I do not make any money out of it.

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She stood up and stepped away from the bed. She knew if she stayed close to him she wouldn’t resist and would end up giving herself to him.

“I’m… I’m virgin Erik. And my father would kill you if he found out that you… that we… well… oh, God, you know what I’m saying, I don’t need to explain myself… right?” she turned around to look at him folding her arms across her chest and lifting her chin a little.

“I would never dishonor you, Melanie. I only wanted to kiss you, caress you… Despite all of what that man said about my past, I wouldn’t do nothing you didn’t want me to…” he says in a calm, sweet voice.

“That is the problem… I want it!” Melanie blurted out. She quickly placed her hand over her mouth, her face red and a shocked expression on her face. She glanced at Erik and then left the room.

Erik stood smiling to himself, wondering about what was happening. Who would be this Christine everyone talks about? How could he love her if he feels so much care and attraction for Melanie. And why did the other woman not love him? Was it because of his monstrous face or because he had been a murderer in the past? But then again, if so, then why does Melanie feels so attracted to him?

“Oh hell, if I could only remember!” he whispers to himself placing a hand on his forehead.

I need to go visit the place where I lived, in the Opera’s underground and try to remember something about my past. I’ll ask the duke to take me there. I need, I want to remember… soon. I only hope my past isn’t as terrible as the Persian described… If I am the murderer he said I am, then I can no longer stay with my angel… he thought as he turned to his side and, with his head filled with doubts, fell asleep.

Melanie went to her room closing the door behind her. Her heart was racing and she was afraid it would jump out of her mouth. What had she done? She had just told a man she wanted to have sex with him!

“I’m going mad…” she said in a muffled sound with her hand still covering her mouth.

He… the Phantom of the Opera was bewitching her. The Persian said that women were fascinated by his genius… She was also being completely involved by his mellow voice, his mysterious existence, his strong body… How could his distorted face matter when his chest was large, his hands, powerful, his legs, strong… his…! Melanie covered her face with her hands, ashamed of her own thoughts.

A knock on the door made her leave her trance. She could feel her sex wet and throbbing… she needed to control herself…

“Melanie, it’s almost two o’clock. Let’s go have lunch!”

“I’m coming, daddy. I’ll just wash myself and I’ll be right down.” She said while walking towards the basin and purring some water from a jar in it.

She carefully washed her face, neck, hands and arms until the heat which had possessed her body seamed to subside.

She caught with her father as he was starting to climb down the stairs with his slow, limping walk. She gave him her arm and helped him down the stairs and into the dinning room. Once there, the duke ordered the servants to serve Erik’s lunch for him in his room and set at the table across from Melanie.

“What happened while you were in his room?” he asked eyeing his daughter.

“Why are you asking me this now, daddy, after I’ve spent so many nights taking care of him?”

“He was unconscious! Now he is very much awake… too much, if you ask me. And you seem to be stimulating this situation!” he said in a rather harsh tone.

“I never lied to you, sir! I… he… well, we kissed… nothing more!”

“Nothing more?!!! Oh, now I’m relieved…” he said ironically.

“Don’t you think that this “curiosity” of yours about him is becoming something else?” he continued.

Melanie opened her mouth to speak, but the duke raised his hand in a motion for her to stop.

“No, I owe you an explanation about my own business relationship with these two rather strange men. When your grandfather died I verified that we had more debts then money in our save. Your mother loved parties and I had no more means to afford them. So, I decided to sell one or two properties that we had in Paris. They were small palaces which were rented, but I was making no profit out of them.” The duke took a sip from the glass he had laid in front of him and continued.

“I went to one of them and stood standing in front of its façade wondering about how the time and the lack of care had damaged it. It was almost a ruin. I noticed that, a few steps from where I was standing, another man was observing the building. I watched him carefully… he was a very strange man… He realized he was being observed and turned to me with a smile on his face. He removed his hat as he walked towards me and, with a slight bow, introduced himself:

“Mousier le Duque de Cherrion, allow me to introduce myself, I’m Nadir Daroga of Mazenderan. This property is yours isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think it would look incredible if you repaired it, mousier. Is it what you intend to do?”

“If I had the means to afford such repairing, I would. But there’s no way I can do that, so I intend to sell it the way it is.”

“But, if you do that, mousier, you will loose a lot of money. If you repair it, you can sell three, maybe four times the price. I have a proposition for you. Would you like to accompany me for a cup of coffee or tea, so we can talk?”

I didn’t have much to loose, so I followed him to the Café de la Paix. I listened to him as he went through his plan. He would give all the necessary material for the repairing according to the orders of an excellent architect. After we sell the house, I would repay him, pay the architect and give Daroga ten percent of what was left. I wanted to know who the architect was, but he said that he did not like to reveal his identity and asked me to let him keep it secret.

I agreed with everything since I was despaired. We signed a contract and the work started. Once finished, the small palace looked wonderful, a true work of art. I told Daroga that the architect was a genius to what he said: More than you could ever imagine, mousier!

We sold it five times the price we thought and had the money to repair the other house. So that’s what we began to do… we’d buy big houses which needed repairing and, after the work was done, we sold them for exorbitant prices. In the end, we decided to keep a few and rent them, so we would have income every month. We would share the rent between the three of us.”

The duke took a break in his story and looked deep in his daughter’s eyes wondering if he should go on or not…

“After two years, I asked Daroga to tell me who the architect was. I insisted that, if he did not reveal his identity, I would leave our society. So, he agreed. One day, I remember it as if it was yesterday, he was sitting with me in my office, by the fireplace… and he said:

“Have you ever heard about the Ópera Populaire’s ghost, mousier le duke?”

“Yes, of course! All Paris knows about this absurd fairytale of a ghost living in the undergrounds of the Opera. But, what does this legend has to do with our architect?”

“It is not an absurd, nor it is a legend mousier. The Phantom is very real… in fact, he is the genius architect who projects all the houses we build.”