“Christianna,” he adds evenly, “would you have me accused of plagiarizing your work?”
“No, of course not. I just… I don’t need or want the recognition.”
Erik studies me for a moment. “You don’t feel worthy of it yet. You will.” He pauses. “But regardless, it isn’t mine to take credit for.” He turns back to his steak.
I lift my wine glass and drain it.
Remy reaches over and squeezes my hand. “There are ways around it, if you need.”
I bite my lip and look at him. Dinner is mostly finished now, plates pushed back, the table quieting.
“I think before we go any further,” I say carefully, “I need to tell you everything.” I draw a breath. “I want honesty between us. And while it’s painful, I’m starting to realize some of that pain exists because I didn’t do more to protect myself.”
Remy’s gaze holds mine. “Only when you’re ready.”
“I am. I need to be.” I swallow. “And if you change your mind about me… well, Ruiz and I can Uber home.”
Erik finishes chewing his last bite of steak before answering. “There will be no Uber. There isn’t anything you can tell us that will change our minds.” His voice is steady. “What it can do is help us understand how to support you. What your triggers are.”
The server arrives with another bottle of wine, and I take the moment to brace myself. When we’re alone again, I draw a deep breath.
“After Paw died, I was placed in foster care. It wasn’t ideal.” I give Remy a small, wan smile. “Noise wasn’t permitted. So no more singing. Being proper and modestly dressed was required,along with good grades and a spotless house. Children were to be seen and not heard.”
My fingers twist the cloth napkin in my lap. “I learned to close down. To not be myself.”
“When I was fourteen, I met Meg. She started inviting me to her house after school. Her mom got me violin lessons. I didn’t want to sing anymore. That part of my life felt gone.” I pause. “She also put me in dance. I liked it. I was passable, not great.”
I inhale slowly. “I loved being there. Her mother wasn’t affectionate, but she cared. My foster parents didn’t mind me being gone, as long as they kept getting the check.”
I take another breath. “I got into college on scholarship. Full tuition. Meal plan. I still worked part time for incidentals, but it was manageable.”
My throat tightens. “STD class was mandatory.” I swallow. “And while I know now that it was rape…” My voice drops, and both men lean in without realizing it. “It took me a long time to understand that.”
“I had to maintain a 3.85 GPA to keep my scholarship. He told me he’d fail me if I didn’t agree.” I scoff softly. “Agree. Like I had a choice. And somehow that made it worse, because it felt like I was choosing it.”
My eyes burn. “If I said okay, it couldn’t be rape. That’s what I told myself.”
Remy moves his chair closer. Erik’s breathing has gone tight and uneven. When Remy reaches up to wipe my cheek, I realize tears are already falling.
“I know better now,” I whisper. “But I didn’t then. I didn’t see another option. So I did what I needed to make him happy. I went to his ‘tutoring.’”
My throat tightens. “I was a virgin. I wasn’t on birth control.” I swallow hard. “I got pregnant.”
“We were working on a performance at the Opera House. He was furious. He blamed me.” I scoff bitterly. “Because I was the problem in his world. He wanted me to get an abortion. Shortly after, he was found hanging. Everyone assumed it was the Dark Angel.”
Erik starts to speak, but I lift my hand. “Please. I need to get through this.”
“His mother knew about his tendencies. Apparently, she hired a private investigator to protect their family name.” I draw a shaky breath. “They approached me after his death. Offered a settlement if I never made a claim against the estate. He was married. He had ‘real’ children.”
My chest tightens. “I took the money because I was going to need it to raise my little angel.”
I sniff, my breath hitching as my voice fractures.
“Only she didn’t make it. I lost her at seven months.” Tears spill freely now. “I loved her so much. It wasn’t her fault.”
Erik stands abruptly and lifts me into his arms before sitting again, settling me in his lap as if there is nowhere else I could possibly belong.
“It was not your fault either,” he says, his voice low and tightly controlled.
