Dark Memories (The Phantom Diaries, #2) (11 page)

BOOK: Dark Memories (The Phantom Diaries, #2)
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“I’ll be right out,” I called out though I had no idea how I would manage. Eric’s hand clamped down tightly around mine, and I could feel the strength he wanted to transmit to me. His eyes filled with love and compassion, I looked at him through Kristine’s eyes, seeing him as she must have. But in that same moment of seeing the wealth of emotions on his face, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was all for me.
 
How could I compete with the alluring sensuality Kristine exuded so effortlessly?
 
I suddenly felt so naïve and childishly innocent. What did I have to offer a man?
 
A man who’d known the depth of passion with a woman like Kristine?

I stood, shaking off my uncertainties and shifting my concentration to the night’s performance.

“Show them that Annette is truly back,” Eric said with a smile.

It didn’t take long for me to become completely enveloped in the role of Adelle.
 
The crowd welcomed me, the music lifted me and the words that came from my lips took on a whole new meaning.

I lived them through my brief experience with Kristine.
The pain and heartache, the treachery and betrayal, the murderous revenge.
It all made so much sense now, too much.
 
When Theo, playing the role of my beloved Emile, sang to me of his undying love and eternal gratitude for all Adelle had brought to his life, I saw Eric and Kristine.

My, how he must have loved her to have immortalized his passion in an opera that would live on and on.
 
As I looked into Theo’s eyes, I felt Kristine inside me, not as she had possessed me, but the remnants of her spirit.
 
The hatred and violence.
The unhappiness that had rendered her so bitter and bloodthirsty.

Though their affair ended badly, Eric’s passion for Kristine remained, strong and unceasing, transcending death.

The last note of the last song had not made it to the furthest balcony that the crowd got to their feet in elated applause. I glimpsed several tissues being blotted to the corners of the female patron’s eyes and a few men blinking away unshed tears.

Overcome with my own emotions, I stood and took in the adoration of my public. The applause seemed to go on forever and I knew that I had profoundly touched them.

 

 

Chapter 9

 

Eric

 

Annette’s performance was truly something to behold. She’d surpassed my expectations and had brought a whole new depth and power to the role of Adelle. The public’s reception of her performance made the evening all the more fulfilling.

Pushing through the throngs of admirers who’d already begun to crowd the back halls, I eagerly sought the star of the night. But my approach was halted when I saw Aaron at her side. Professional, if not pompous, he held a possessive gaze on Annette.

Over the many words of congratulations, encouragement and praise, Aaron gazed at me, his eyes instantly divulging his recognition, though of whom, he didn’t seem certain.

Our eyes remained locked together, sizing each other up, analyzing our opponent. As well we were; each vying so stridently for Annette’s affection. If the crowd noticed the animosity that traveled across the room between us, they didn’t let on, but remained enamored with their goddess Annette.

His eyes told of the search his mind was conducting.
 
Was my face familiar to him?
 
Was he aware of the rivalry between his ancestor and
I
? The proud stance he maintained told of his assured victory. His claim of Annette was strong, for he held her career in his hands.
 
But his hands betrayed him, repeatedly fisting and flexing as he no doubt knew I was a worthy adversary.

He turned his attention to the crowd, speaking with confidence and authority.
 
Annette smiled, signed autographs and posed for pretty pictures with her fans, occasionally glancing up at me.

Though she smiled, a nervous twitch on the corner of her lips indicated her unease.
 
Was I the source of her discomfort?
 
Could my presence be the cause of the tight fidgeting of her fingers?

“When we last saw you, there was talk of a budding romance,” a columnist shouted out.
 
“Is the impresario still enamored with his starlet?”

Aaron chuckled and gazed lovingly at Annette.
 
In a gesture of proprietorship, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, drawing a sweet smile from Annette.

The image they portrayed was captured by a dozen cameras as the crowd became enraptured by the blossoming romance.
 
But I was struck by the sight, immediately remembering the sight of Annette in Aaron’s arms only hours earlier.
 
My gut tightened and my jaw clenched.

Punching a hole through the wall wouldn’t do this time.
 
It was his face I wanted to pummel.
 
The rage, the anger and the need to see his blood soon painted over the scene with a haze of black and death.
 
Voices around me became a distant buzz and all I could see were Annette’s eyes as she gazed lovingly at the man I loathed.

The crowd began to slowly ebb away, leaving only the most ardent fan and hangers-on.

Would they leave together? As was customary, Aaron would take Annette out to dinner, they would share intimate hours together and he would do everything within his power to win her love and admiration.

My mind raced as I thought of my own plans to bring her home and treat her as my princess.

“I must leave you, darling,” Aaron said.
 
“Though it pains me to do so, I have a pressing engagement I simply cannot avoid. Do forgive me.”

“Of course I do, Aaron.” Annette’s eyes showed only the slightest signs of relief. “My return to the stage has left me completely exhausted and I fear I wouldn’t have been very good company. I’ll no doubt be early to bed.”

With his hands clamped over Annette’s, he leaned down to give her a professional peck on the cheek. “Tomorrow, however, I’m all yours.”

He left her, his eyes victorious as he walked by and gazed at me with disdain.

With the last of the hangers-on being escorted out, I approached Annette.

“Eric, I’m so happy you came by.” Still on her whirlwind of publicity, she maintained her professional tone.

“You knew I’d stay, didn’t you?”

Her smile warmed and her eyes relaxed as she shook off the opera diva and reconnected with the Annette I knew and loved. “You’re a mysterious man, Eric.
 
You disappear without warning and appear when I least expect you.”

“Are you too exhausted to come have dinner? I’ve something special planned.”

Her eyes bore through mine, questioning, wanting and unsure.
 
For a brief moment her lips parted and I felt her desire to say something, but she simply smiled and shook her head.

“Abner has prepared a special feast in honor of your return.”

“I’m never too exhausted to be with you.”

Our journey through the gloomy tunnels was silent and I felt the weight of her thoughts. Though she was right by my side, she seemed distant and lost in the depths of her doubts.

Abner had indeed prepared a feast worthy of royalty. The dining room glowed under the shimmer of a hundred candles while the air greeted us with the tempting scents of the meal he’d planned.

“This is all exquisite, Eric,” Annette said, setting down her fork and dabbing her napkin to the corners of her lips.
 
Her plate was empty and her wine glass dry.

“I’ll let Abner know you appreciate his culinary talent.”

Fatigue showed in her eyes that were narrow and heavy.

I led her into the bedchamber. “These past days have been quite demanding.”

She sighed.
“These past weeks.
 
I’ve never been so busy, so lacking in free time as I have been since coming to
New York
. I knew it was the city that never sleeps, I just didn’t realize to what I extent I wouldn’t sleep.” She smiled and seemed pleased with her new life in the big city.

With a sigh that reverberated with longing more than fatigue, she turned to me and put her hand to my chest. The simple touch told me of her desire for me. But her gaze remained restrained.

“You’re fearful, my love,” I said. I regretted the words. Now was not the time to speak of her uncertainties. I’d wanted this night to be of passion.

Her eyes widened. Surprised and caught off guard, she brought a quick but unconvincing smile to her lips.
 
Veiled from the truth, her eyes could not meet mine.

There was no need for her to answer. I knew the conclusion she’d come to. It was evident in every move she made and my heart ached all the more. She would never be truly free of Kristine, not so long as I was in her life.

 

Chapter 10

 

Annette

 

Eric had slept in a guest room, allowing me the time and space I needed to collect my thoughts. His large room was empty without him, but I was thankful for his consideration.
 
Barefoot and still groggy I walked to the window and glimpsed outside at a
New York City
that was a buzz of festive activities.
 
Magical with its mass of Christmas lights and chilled by hints of snow, it was a spectacular city in which to spend the holidays, though far from the traditions I’d grown up with in
New Orleans
.

Remnants of the Boxing Day shopping crowd filled the streets looking for bargains.
 
I’d hopefully have some time to get some shopping of my own done.
 
I desperately wanted to find anything related to the Yankees for my dad and I thought
Maman
would really enjoy a touch of
New York
fashion.
 
Perhaps a silk
scarf,
or one of those thousand dollar designer handbags.
 
But a return to rehearsals at the Met was today’s priority and I had to set my shopping list aside.

I rushed out of Eric’s home and down through the tunnels that were now becoming increasingly familiar to me. Though I erred twice, I was able to retrace my steps and find the correct tunnel that led to the Met’s entrance. As I entered the rehearsal hall, the first person I saw was Chace with a new violin under his chin.

His concentration was admirable as he led the orchestra to a powerful climax. His hair tousled around his face and all the emotion and drama of the piece emanated from every part of his being.

A final flick of his bow and the orchestra fell silent.

He gazed at me, his eyes showing quick recognition, but just as quick, indifference.
 
Was he still angry?
 
Of course he was.
 
He had to be.
 
No doubt he thought I’d played him for a fool.
 
I could still see his expression as he’d entered my dressing room to find me in Aaron’s arms.
The pain, the rage and the betrayal.
No wonder he wanted to look away.

I took my place and we spent the next few hours going over several of the songs, but with every song seamlessly gliding into the other, there was little need for in-depth repetition.

When the orchestra, dancers and co-stars began to disperse, I noticed Chace stalling. For minutes he placed his music sheets in order, shuffling them around and tapping them into a neat pile.
 
He opened and closed his violin case repeatedly, pulled his violin back out and wiped it down with a smooth cloth and settled it back in its case.
 
His fingers remained on the cover of his case, hesitating and looking for something else to do.

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