"It was only because of luck, and our fast thinking, that Raoul and I were able to escape from the turmoil… and chase down the perpetrator of this disaster." He jerked the rope and Erik's head snapped helplessly as he struggled to breathe. "At least, that is how we shall explain it to the authorities… who will be only too pleased to listen to the Chagny brothers."
Christine's heart stopped—surely it did—for a long moment, as black flashes colored the edges of her vision. And then it began racing again, madly, as nausea pooled in her belly.
"He kidnapped you once, Christine," Raoul said. "He's done it again, but this time, he won't get away with it. The mob is already forming… We sent them in the wrong direction, but they will be here soon enough. They are coming after him. And you. If you take his side, you will be torn apart… or worse. We are here to take you away to safety."
She stared at him in horror. "How could you do this, Raoul? I thought you loved me!"
"I do love you, Christine. Beyond anything, I love you. I am doing this for you. I've done it all for you. I can't allow you to spend the rest of your days with this… this monster."
"The only monster in this room is him," Christine spit, pointing at Philippe. "And you, Raoul. You both did this. All of this. And for what? What?"
Philippe stepped toward her, and she shrank back into Raoul, for angry and frightened as she was, he was still the better choice in this madness.
"For this." Philippe squeezed her breast. "And this." He reached for her other, pinching the nipple. "And for this." Holding her by the nipple, he reached down and crudely cupped her sex. "And to watch that." He turned, pointing at Erik, whose bound arms were struggling tightly as he tried to twist his neck loose. His breaths were gasps of air, desperate… but not as desperate as the burning, horrified eyes he turned toward her.
Christine tried to break free of Raoul's grip, but it was too strong. "No! You cannot. I won't go with you. Leave me here. With Erik!"
To her surprise, Philippe loosened the rope enough that Erik was able to breathe easier. "Leave you here? Why, we could not do that to you, Miss Daaé. That would be most unchivalrous. You will want to be coming with us… although I must tell you that your arrangement has been altered. You see, my brother, the vicomte, cannot be marrying someone of your station… He simply cannot disappoint the Chagny family in that regard. So he will be wedding Celeste Le Rochet, a young woman who, although she does not have your considerable charms, does come from a great family and brings a fortune to ours. You will simply be… our guest… at Chateau de Chagny."
"Never! I will not," Christine shouted, struggling anew. "Raoul, you deceived me!"
"Christine, it will be for the best," he told her gently. "You will be very comfortable at Chateau de Chagny, and I will visit you often. Every day, at least." He smiled, but there was a glint in his eyes that belied his tenderness. "I will be your protector."
"You cannot return to the Opera House," Philippe told her. "For there is no Opera House… or there will be none by the morning. And you have already been identified as an accomplice of the Opera Ghost—all of your talk about the Angel of Music has done it for you. You are trapped, Christine. Trapped unless you accept our offer of succor."
"I will not! I will stay here with Erik!" Tears streamed down her face.
"Let her go." Erik's voice, rough and raw, drew their attention. "It is me you want, Chagny. She has nothing to do with this."
"Au contraire, mon ami, "Philippe told him smugly. "She is in the very center of this, for she is everything to you. And the best, most painful way to destroy you is to destroy that which you love… for you have never loved anything before… and have never been loved in return. Most especially by our father."
"Father?" Christine gasped, and her attention flew among the three men.
"Ah, yes… that is the one secret I am most determined to keep, Miss Daaé. The identity of my bastard half brother… the deformed monster that he is, we Chagnys cannot allow him to claim his position with the family. Never have. Never will."
He paused… looked consideringly at Christine. "Although, I might… might perhaps be convinced toward leniency… for a price."
She knew immediately what he meant. His lewd gaze, his lascivious smile, the bulge in his trousers.
"Raoul has had the opportunity to test the wares, of course, but I have not… because of your interference. Perhaps we might come to an arrangement of our own, Miss Daaé?"
"No," Erik snarled, fighting anew. "Christine, no!"
"You won't find it so very difficult, will you, Miss Daaé? After all, from our brief interlude at the masquerade ball, you seemed to find me… not so very distasteful. Not so distasteful as you might have pretended. It must be the Chagny blood. We all have it. All three of us." He laughed softly, his eyes fastened on hers.
Christine's heart thudded in her chest. "Would… would you leave, and let us go free?"
"If I found your performance convincing enough… I'm sure we could come to a satisfactory arrangement." His mouth curled and he watched her, waiting. Waiting.
"Christine, nooo…"Erik was sobbing now, twisting and turning, trying to break free.
"Tell him to shut up, or I will shut him up," Philippe told her quietly, never moving his attention from her.
"Erik… please. You will make it worse." Her words came out rusty, but they seemed to have an effect, for he stopped calling… subsiding into heavy, rough breathing behind them.
Ignoring Raoul, who had released her during the exchange with Philippe, Christine drew in a deep breath. Philippe blinked easily, but his attention remained avid and steady. She stepped toward him and lifted her face, pressing her lips to his.
He did not move and she drew back, looking up at him.
"Surely you can do better than that," he told her. "I said the performance must be convincing."
Refusing to look at Erik, she stepped forward again. Pulling in a deep breath, she lifted her arms, and felt her breasts rise from behind the corset as she slid her fingers around the back of Philippe's neck. Bringing his head down, she rose on her toes to kiss him, moving her lips over his in sensual, sleek strokes. From the shift of his breath, she knew she had been successful, yet he did not move.
She kissed more frantically, thrusting her tongue into his mouth to taste his tobacco and wine-scented tongue, and bringing her hips forward into his, where his erection told her she'd had an effect.
Christine stepped away again, breathing heavily, and his hand lashed out to grab her wrist. "That was an adequate beginning, Miss Daaé." He yanked her back up against him. He looked down at her, forcing her wrist straight down along his thigh, and sliding his other hand between them to fondle her breast. "Why stop now?"
"I thought… I thought we could move somewhere more comfortable," she said, trying to make her voice and expression coy. She did not want to do this in front of Erik. "To the boudoir."
"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Philippe smiled down at her, twitching his finger over her nipple in a rough rhythm that sent little sparks to her belly. Christine swallowed, shocked that her body would respond so quickly… so easily… in such a situation. "But we wouldn't want my brother to miss the show, would we?" He glanced back over his shoulder to where Erik stood, then smiled back down at Christine.
Her throat dried. "You are evil," she whispered into his face, even as the languid stroking over her nipple caused her quim to swell and burn with arousal.
"Not evil," he told her, "merely obsessed with beauty. And determined to get what I want. Now, off with your clothes. You are wasting time."
Christine cast a glance at Raoul, who appeared to be little affected by his brother's orders, despite his pronouncements of affection for her. In fact, his eyes seemed to glitter a bit brighter.