I don't own Once Upon a Time: just playing with the characters.

Tempted

Chapter one

Belle made her way into the club, skirting around groups of young men and women drinking and flirting, and kept her eye out for Ariel.

She hadn't been in a place like this in years, not since before her marriage. Clubs had never really been her scene anyway, and she felt even more out of place here now with the lively chatter, dark, moody lighting, and pulsing background music. Still, Ariel had asked her to come, so she had.

And there was Ariel now, sitting at a table on a raised platform to the side, which Belle guessed was reserved for VIPs and music industry insiders. Her friend spotted her and waved, smiling.

'Belle, you made it,' she greeted, standing to hug her and kiss her cheek. 'I'm so glad you decided to come.' She squeezed her hand affectionately.

'Well, you were right: I needed to get out of the house.'

Ariel smiled. 'Eric will be pleased to see you, and you'll like the music, I think. Eric played me some of their stuff and they're very good.'

'What are they called?' Belle asked.

'Desperate Souls. They're just finishing work on their first album.'

'Right,' Belle said. She didn't know much about music, but Ariel was a successful singer songwriter and Eric was a well-known producer, so she had friends in the know. If Ariel and Eric said something was good, she generally tended to agree with them, so at least she could look forward to some good music tonight.

'So, how are you, sweetie?' Ariel asked, squeezing her hand again.

Belle smiled. Ariel was a very dear friend and Belle knew she could tell her anything.

'Greg came by last week.'

Ariel's eyes narrowed. 'What did he want?'

'What he always wants: for me to change my mind.'

Ariel rolled her eyes. 'He's still trying to get you to go back to him, after everything?'

Belle smiled wryly. 'I don't fool myself into thinking that it's me he wants: he's only after the money.'

Ariel squeezed her hand tighter. 'Belle, whatever he says, don't give in to him.'

'I don't plan to, Ariel: I promise you.'

Ariel nodded. 'Good, because I know what a charmer he can be.'

Belle pressed her lips together and then nodded, as if conceding something. 'I'm not the naïve, eager-to-please girl I was when I met him. I thought he truly cared for me. If I'd guessed he was marrying me to get my money, I would never have agreed: I would never have condemned myself to over twenty years of marriage to a man who never cared for me as I did for him.'

'Oh, Belle, sweetie: I'm sorry to make you upset.' Ariel reached out and hugged her.

Belle shook her head, blinking back her tears. 'No, it's not you, Ariel. I'm upset with myself for staying so long. I should've gotten out sooner, but I stayed because Dad liked Greg.' She'd loved her father very much, but she shouldn't have let what he wanted decide her fate for so long: she knew she should have just left and looked for her happiness somewhere else, and it was probably too late now.

'It's not too late to find happiness, Belle,' Ariel told her, seeming to guess the tone of her thoughts.

Belle smiled sadly. 'What makes you say that?'

'I'm an optimist,' Ariel said with a bright smile.

Belle's smile turned affectionate. 'I'm glad you are. Thank you, Ariel: thank you for talking me into coming here tonight. I need to start being braver. I don't want to go on another twenty years and find that I never really did anything with my life.'

Ariel nodded and smiled. 'Well, I'm glad you came, and I think – I know – that the best is yet to come for you.'

Belle gazed at her friend. When Ariel spoke with such conviction, Belle felt as though the things she said were true: maybe good things were just around the corner. One thing was for sure, she was much happier without Greg and she was determined to press on with the divorce despite his needling and pestering. She didn't love him and she knew he didn't love her: she refused to be tied to him any longer.

'Why don't I get us some drinks?' she suggested.

'Already in hand, Belle,' a man's voice called, and she looked up to see Eric coming over with two glasses of red wine in his hands.

'Hello, Eric,' she greeted, smiling, reaching up and kissing his cheek as he leaned down to kiss hers.

'It's great to see you, Belle,' he said, smiling at her.

'You too,' she returned sincerely, smiling as Eric drew in his chair and put his arm around Ariel's shoulder. Her friends were proof that a marriage could work if both partners loved and respected each other equally. Her trouble was that she wasn't sure she'd ever be brave enough to risk her heart again, after being hurt so badly.

'Are the guys nearly ready?' Ariel asked.

'Yeah. Wait till you hear them, Belle: they're really something.'

Belle smiled at his excitement: for Eric to be this excited about a band, they must be good, and she was starting to relax a little now that she was with her friends, so she settled back, her wineglass in her hand, ready to enjoy the show.

And a show was exactly what she got. The owner of the club came out and got the crowd excited for the band, and then three young men came onto the stage: two tallish men, one with short sandy hair and the other with coiffed brown hair, and a shorter, slim man with shaggy brown hair. He picked up a guitar, while the sandy-haired one went to the keyboard, and the other man went to the drum kit and spun the drumsticks in his hands before sounding out a couple of beats. The man with the shaggy hair turned and grinned at him, and then nodded, obviously ready to get the show started.

He stepped up to the microphone and spoke. 'Hello folks,' he called, in a distinct Scottish brogue: 'are you lot ready to rock?' There were loud cries of yes from around the club and the man grinned. 'Well, then, we are Desperate Souls and we're happy to provide the entertainment this evening. Hope you enjoy.' And he played a string of chords on his guitar that ended with a long, high, twanging sound that vibrated through Belle's body and let her know that this wasn't any old rock music: it was visceral, the kind that reached in and stirred your soul. She felt her heart pound and her breath catch. She couldn't remember the last time anything besides a book had caught her attention like this.

The music continued to grip her, washing over her like waves of turbulent emotion. All she knew about music was that she liked what she liked, and she liked this, very much. She felt the emotion in it like it was her own, and the lyrics spoke to her too: of anger, pain, despair, and yearning. The man with the shaggy hair was doing most of the singing, and she wondered if the lyrics were his too.

'What do you think, Belle?' Ariel asked, having to shout to be heard.

'They're good,' Belle returned: 'better than good. I've never heard anything like it. Did they write the songs themselves?'

'Tristan's the songwriter,' Eric told her: 'he's the one in front.'

He'd indicated the man with the shaggy hair and Belle looked up at him again. She could see why he was the front man. There was a real presence about him: he exuded charisma and he prowled across the stage in black leather pants and a skin-tight black t-shirt with an effortless grace. There was a certain cockiness about him, but also a real earnestness about what he was doing. He clearly loved being on stage singing his songs, and he clearly took his music seriously. Belle was sure that if this Tristan was the driving force behind Desperate Souls, they would be stars.

They finished up with a heart-wrenching, gut-wrenching song about fear and desperation, and Belle's heart fairly hammered in her chest, because she knew how that felt, knew how it felt to be desperately afraid of something: she'd been so afraid to make the break with Greg that she'd stayed with him for years. It both unnerved and excited her that she'd found something besides a book that spoke to her like this.

She didn't quite know what to do with the adrenalin coursing through her. She was pretty sure she was too old to feel this way. Not that forty-two was old, but she felt that it was still too old to get caught up in this kind of emotion. She felt something like she imagined a teenage girl might feel when she saw the actor or singer she was crushing on, and she was surely too old to be feeling like that… She'd been married, for goodness' sake: she was a grown woman, not a teenager.

Get a grip, she told herself, as she watched the band walk off stage, clapping each other on the back and high-fiving good-naturedly. Obviously they felt it had gone well, and, judging by the buzz around the club, Belle would have to agree.

'They are going to be huge,' Ariel said, grinning.

Eric nodded in agreement. 'Yeah, they'll be selling out stadiums. I told them I'd introduce you,' he said to Ariel: 'why don't you come along, Belle?'

Belle demurred. 'I don't want to get in the way.' All the same, her heart had leapt strangely when Eric suggested going with them.

'Nonsense,' Ariel said: 'you could never be in the way. Anyway, didn't you say something about being braver?'

Belle smiled. 'You're right: I did. If you're sure it's alright?' She looked between her friends questioningly.

'You're coming with us,' Ariel said, and Eric nodded.

She smiled as Ariel took her hand and they followed Eric backstage. Everyone appeared to know Eric and Ariel, so no one interfered as they made their way to the band's dressing room.

They heard loud, exuberant voices as they approached.

Eric looked back at them and grinned. 'They're in good spirits.' He knocked on the door and someone shouted come in.

Ariel and Belle waited as Eric stuck his head around the door and spoke to the men inside. 'Are you decent?' he asked: 'I brought Ariel and a friend along to meet you.'

'We're decent…ish,' a joking voice said.

'Behave, Victor,' a different voice commanded. 'Don't worry, Eric: the boys will be on their best behaviour.'

Belle realised that voice belonged to the front man: the one Eric had called Tristan.

'Come on in, ladies,' Eric invited.

Belle followed Ariel in and found the three band members lounging on couches, drinks in their hands. When Belle and Ariel entered, the man with the shaggy hair stood up and then kicked the foot of the sandy-haired man.

'Get up, you lazy lump,' he growled, 'and you, Jeff. Is this how you behave in front of company?' And he rolled his eyes.

'Ariel, Belle, I'd like you to meet Tristan Gold, Victor Whale, and Jefferson Hatter,' Eric said: 'collectively known as Desperate Souls. Gentlemen, this is my wife, Ariel, and our friend, Belle French.'

'It's a pleasure, Mrs Marin,' Gold said, smiling as she laughed and said 'Ariel, please', 'and Mrs French, or is it Miss?' He looked down, apparently looking for a ring.

It had been Mrs Gaston, but not any more. 'Belle,' she said: 'just Belle.'

He looked into her eyes. 'Belle, then.' He squeezed her hand gently and then let go.

Belle was beginning to feel like her world had spun off its axis, and she knew it would get worse the longer she was in his company. It was his eyes that did it, and his voice too: both like chocolate in different ways. She couldn't feel this way: it was too scary.

As he'd been talking to her, Ariel had shaken hands with the other two, and now they came and shook Belle's hand.

'Please, won't you sit down?' Gold invited.

Belle and Ariel sat together on the couch and Gold played host and offered them drinks and snacks.

'The show was great,' Ariel praised, when they'd all settled down: 'you guys are going to go far.'

Gold smiled. 'Thank you: we're flattered that you think so.'

The other men nodded and Belle could feel the respect they had for her friend. It made her smile. Ariel was incredibly talented, and she'd worked hard for her success. It was nice to see younger musicians valuing her opinion.

Gold saw her smile and smiled himself, looking at her again with those dark eyes. Belle found it difficult to breathe when he did that.

'What about you, Belle: are you a musician?'

She nearly laughed, but shook her head instead. 'Librarian,' she said.

'Ah, right,' he said, sounding as if he was actually interested. 'Books are your music.'

She stared at him, somewhere between shocked and pleased that he got what books meant to her.

'Yes, but… I like your music too.'

His smile was warm. 'Thank you,' he said, tilting his head.

Belle's heart thumped and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why she was reacting so strongly to this man. He was reeling her in like a fish and she felt powerless to stop it. She was probably old enough to be his mother, for goodness' sake, or just about: this was ridiculous!

She sat back and tried to calm herself down. She found it easier to do that if she didn't look at Tristan, so she avoided that as much as she could. Sometimes she'd get so drawn into what he was saying that she'd forget, and she'd look at him as she listened, and then he'd smile at her and her heart would thump again.

'Well, I think we'll let you guys get some rest,' Eric said, after they'd stayed about half an hour. 'I'll see you tomorrow to go over where we are with the album.'

'And I'll call you about dinner,' Ariel said. She'd taken a liking to the three men, Belle saw, and would make friends of them before too long.

'We look forward to it,' Tristan said, smiling. He smiled at Belle then. 'Good night, Belle,' he murmured.

'Good night,' she returned, feeling like she'd only be properly able to breathe again when she was out of this room and away from him.

Finally, they were walking towards the exit of the club and she felt the tension leave her body, but she couldn't empty her mind of thoughts of him.

0

'Well, I'm gonna head out and find me a date for the rest of the evening: you boys coming with?' Victor asked.

'No,' Gold returned flatly.

Victor frowned and then looked at his other band mate. 'Jeff, you will, won't you?'

'I would never say no to a beautiful woman's company. What's with you, Gold? I never knew you to say no before.'

'Well, I'm saying no now,' he snapped. 'On you go, but don't be late for our meeting with Eric in the morning.'

'Something's up with you,' Jefferson said.

'Maybe I'm sick of having to play parent to you two idiots,' Gold snapped. 'I swear, you wouldn't wipe your own arses if I didn't remind you to do it.'

Jefferson and Victor shared a look and, gathering their stuff together, they quickly cleared out, leaving Gold to his own devices. Hopefully he'd have worked through whatever mood he was in by morning.

Gold lay back on the couch in the empty dressing room and closed his eyes.

Fucking bad idea, that: as soon as he did, he saw her, the blue-eyed, chestnut-haired beauty who'd walked into his life less than an hour ago. God, those eyes, and that hair, and that sweet, kissable mouth, and that skin: fuck, what a goddess. He'd never seen anyone like her before, and he'd wished she'd just keep on talking in that musical accent.

She wasn't just gorgeous, though: she was refined, elegant, graceful. She didn't say much, but he could tell she thought plenty. He'd always wanted a woman like that: someone he could talk to about anything, but most of the women he encountered in his own age group were airheads, and he was pretty sure they were only interested in him because he was going places in the music business. A rock star boyfriend was high on their agendas, apparently. They didn't give a shit about him: just the lifestyle and the prospect of fame and wealth. He didn't want a woman like that: he wanted a woman like Belle.

Problem was, he was pretty sure she didn't like him. Well, she acted pretty stiff around him, and seemed like she couldn't wait to get out of there. Oh, she was polite enough, but he felt a reserve from her. Well, that was that, wasn't it? No point chasing after a woman who didn't want to be chased.

Ah, fuck it: maybe he should just catch up with Victor and Jeff.

He shook his head and lay for a while, daydreaming about an older woman with a sweet face and china blue eyes who was way out of his league.

Thanks for reading :) – chapter two coming soon :)