Master of the Opera, Act 3: Phantom Serenade Read Online Free Page A

imagined lying naked in front of him, her wrists tied over her head. The desire for him, never completely cooled, simmered between her legs.
    “Yes,” Hally breathed. “Exactly.”
    Being painted gave her time to think in a way that lying by Roman’s pool hadn’t. She held still, thinking of the phantom and his mysterious ways, of what he had and had not asked of her. Though she never doubted he could be dangerous, her gut insisted he’d told the truth about Tara. He wanted something else from Christy.
    He wanted this.
    And, lying there while Hally captured her languid desire for the unknown, Christy wanted him to have it.
    She wanted to be his Christine.
     
    The next morning, Carla confronted Christy as soon as she arrived at work, sizing up her too-expensive slacks. With her grubby jeans gone and her only other pair too dirty to wear again before laundry day, Christy had chosen the best of several unhappy options. It would be more than a relief to get her things out of storage and stop living out of a suitcase. Until then, she had only so much to work with.
    “Carla, I’m really sorry about the other night. I, um, just—”
    Carla held up a talk-to-the-hand palm and looked to the heavens, shaking her head.
    “You know, I tried to give you a chance. ‘Maybe she’s not a spoiled rich girl,’ I said to myself. And then I ask you to help me with one little thing. Twenty minutes of your precious time, and what happens? You run off to take a nap ?”
    Christy cringed under the lash of Carla’s scorn. Stupidest excuse on the face of the earth.
    “I’m sor—”
    “I don’t want to hear your apologies. I want you to know that I asked Charlie to let you go.”
    “You—you did?” Misery welled up. All the starry-eyed fantasies about seeing her ghost again shriveled up in the stark light of Carla’s anger.
    “Of course I did. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t have lasted that first week. Hell,” Carla laughed bitterly, “you would never have been accepted in the first place. Do you realize you’ve taken the place of people who’ve sweated and worked their way for a chance at an apprenticeship here? And you flounce about here, like some fancy accessory we can’t afford.”
    “I want to work hard! I—”
    “You don’t know how.” Carla pronounced her verdict as the worst insult possible. It hung in the air between them, mean and rotten. “You’re soft fruit. A hothouse flower that won’t thrive in the real world. Go home to Daddy.”
    Never . That resolve straightened her spine. No matter what happened with this job, she would never live under her father’s roof again. He could cut her off, but she was a legal adult in every way. He couldn’t force her to do anything.
    Not unless they think you’re crazy.
    But she wasn’t a scared adolescent any longer. She had grown up, into a calm, reasonable, and determined adult.
    “Am I fired then?” She made her voice as even as possible. She’d find another job. Hally would help her. Other people did it and so could she.
    “No,” Charlie said, coming down the hall. “Which I told you, Carla.”
    She stiffened, planting her hands on her hips. “We agreed she’d be on probation.”
    “Yes, and we also agreed that I’d discuss it with her.” Charlie, several inches shorter that Carla, even in his heeled cowboy boots, returned her furious stare with equanimity. “Didn’t we?”
    Carla threw up her hands in exasperation. “You’re a goddamn pushover, Charlie Donovan. Always a sucker for a pretty face.”
    Charlie grinned at her. “You know it, darling. And good thing for you and your pretty face.”
    She grimaced at him but, shockingly, giggled when Charlie shooed her along with a pat on the ass. She actually fluttered her lashes at him and then sauntered down the hall, Charlie watching her go with exasperated admiration.
    “My wife has quite a temper, but she makes up for that failing in other ways.”
    “I, um, had no idea.”
    “Why would