Belle French arrived downtown forty-five minutes early for her first day at work. She was rather grateful for this, as it took her a good half hour to find a parking spot, locate her building, and muster the nerve to walk through the entryway.

Belle always felt that the right outfit could inspire the best sort of confidence in even the direst of circumstances. She wore a cream colored blouse with a flowered pin she'd bought at a thrift store, along with a high-waisted black silk skirt that flared at the hem. She was wearing her very favorite heels—black Oxford heels with white insoles that made her feel professional and classy—and for once, her curly dark hair was cooperating, blowing nicely in the wind and allowing a few curls to frame her face. She was ready as she'd ever be.

Gold Consolidated was located in the tallest skyscraper in the city and was about as intimidating as it looked. She meekly entered the huge marble lobby, trying not to gape at the vaulted ceilings, the businessmen and women hurrying to and fro, often bumping into her. Belle checked her planner for the floor she was supposed to go to, and scurried towards the elevator doors, pressing the UP button.

The opened and a flood of people swarmed around her, entering and exiting. She felt constricted in such tight quarters—she should've taken the stairs, should've known that an elevator would be too hard for her. But she only had ten minutes until she was supposed to arrive, and she was terrified of being late. She focused her breathing, staring at her shoes, not looking at the dizzying view the glass elevator provided.

The elevator doors opened and the flood of people exited, leaving Belle alone with one other man.

He wasn't a particularly tall man, but something about the confident way he leaned on his cane, exhibited a powerful sort of presence. There was an almost leonine grace in his movements and his features were strong and distinct. His hair was streaked with gray, a strangely attractive feature—it rather made him look distinguished. He was almost reminiscent of Cary Grant, in both elegance and class. He had atmosphere, this man, and Belle was torn between intimidation and fascination.

His hand reached for the elevator buttons and he glanced at her. "What floor?" He asked and Belle noted his accent was vaguely Scottish—or perhaps Irish or Welsh, she was always terrible at placing accents.

"38," Belle replied nervously. "It's uh…my first day."

"Really," He eyed her interestedly and Belle was struck by the intensity in his eyes.

"Yes," She answered, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. "It's been…a while since I've worked. I'm a little nervous."

His fingers twitched on his cane. "How long?"

Belle blushed. "Erm…well…it's technically my first full-time job. I got engaged right after college and my fiancé—my former fiancé didn't want me to work. He was a little old-fashioned." Old-fashioned enough to run away with his secretary the week before their wedding, Belle added privately.

The man snorted at her comment about her fiancé; apparently he didn't have a high opinion of men who thought their wives shouldn't work.

"And where will you be working?" He asked curiously, a twinkle of humor in his eyes.

"I'm working for Gold Consolidated—of course I am, I'm in the building," Belle flushed. "I'm going to be in the Accounting Department. One of the administrative assistants, apparently there's a team of them."

"Killian Jones' floor," The man replied and she noted the words were a little stiff coming out of his mouth. "Mm. Well, I'll wish you luck then, dearie."

"Thank you…" The doors opened on floor 38 and Belle blinked as she stepped out. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name—I'm Belle French."

He smiled at her. "Tavish Gold," He replied, the elevators closing on his wide smirk.

It took a few seconds for Belle to realize she'd been conversing with the sole owner and Chairman of the Board of Gold Consolidated. Feeling dizzy, she took a stumbling step forward, glancing about.

The floor was filled with cubicles, one right after another, and each one looked exactly the same. Belle was surprised to notice that none had any pictures, plants, little desk ornaments—all contained the same type of PC computer, phone, stapler, and post-its.

The residents of each cubicle stared blankly at their monitors, typing away, answering phones, all in the same monotone voice that made Belle want to scream. She swallowed hard, trying to get used to her surroundings, and wondered how on earth she would be able to work in such a drab place.

"Belle French?"

She turned to find a young woman around her age—perhaps a few years older—staring at her impatiently. The woman was very beautiful, with long blonde, curly hair that brought fairy tale princesses to mind. She had stormy blue gray eyes and a firm, no-nonsense expression on her face.

"Yes," Belle said gratefully. "Are you—"

"Emma Swan," She put in bluntly. "Follow me. I hope you can learn quick. We go through admins like tissues around here."

Emma had long strides and Belle raced to keep up. They circled the entire room coming upon a drab little cubicle near a window with the blinds shut all the way.

"Here's your desk," Emma dumped a large sheaf of papers in front of the computer. "This file contains your computer login, password, email login and password, HR stuff. Don't surf the internet, Jones is a shark about that crap, he fired the last chick for checking her Facebook page." Belle set her purse down, swallowing hard, trying to keep from being overwhelmed.

"What—what will I be doing?" She asked, proud of keeping her voice from shaking.

"I call the admins jack of all trades," Emma gave her a warm smile that was immensely comforting. "Like the Springsteen song. We call our contractors, mail invoices, mail checks, file different accounts, proof Jones' emails so he doesn't sound like a moron to the professional world, copy crap, scan crap, whatever Jones—or me, I manage the rest of the admins—needs taken care of. Got it?"

Belle nodded. She was a fast typist and a keen organizer and thanked her lucky stars she'd been blessed with these abilities. "And who is—Jones?"

Emma made a face. "C'mon. Better introduce you to the boss."

"Rory," Emma said in a rather flat voice. "Can you let Jones know the new hire is here? He wanted to see her before she gets started."

Aurora Costa smiled at them both sweetly. She was very pretty, Belle thought immediately, with honey brown hair and sparkling blue eyes that occasionally veered into shades of green. She wore a pretty lilac dress and seemed devoid of guile or cunning, and Belle wondered at Emma's coldness.

"Sure, Emma," Rory said cheerfully picking up the phone and punching a few numbers.

"Rory's Killian Jones' personal assistant," Emma explained. She looked like she wanted to say a little bit more but before she could, Rory hung up the phone.

"He says to go right in," Rory chirped and Emma nodded curtly at her. Belle gave her a smile.

"Oh—and Belle?" Belle turned towards Rory's voice. "I just wanted to let you know…I know what it's like to be the new girl and how intimidating all this can be. If you need anything at all, don't be afraid to let me know, okay?" Rory's eyes were earnest and friendly.

"Thank you," Belle said gratefully. "I'll take you up on that." She gave Rory one last smile before following Emma into Killian Jones' office.

Belle, who had imagined Killian Jones as someone old and colorless, was surprised to find him young and very attractive. He had an almost rakish glint in his eye—a glint that Belle recognized and automatically distrusted. He had Clark Gable's coloring and carried himself as though he had Clark's charm as well—when in reality, it fell quite a bit short.

"Belle French," He stood from his desk and reached over, grasping her hand. "It's wonderful to meet you. Welcome to Gold Consolidated."

"Thank you," Belle said shyly. "And thank you for allowing me this opportunity."

"Well, it's always wonderful to have another pretty face join my girls," He smiled smarmily and Belle's stomach lurched a bit at being deemed 'one of his girls'.

"It's important for us to preserve the culture here, Belle," Killian lifted his feat upon his desk almost lazily. "A culture of professionalism, efficiency, and teamwork. Mr. Gold values loyalty around here, never breaking a deal, never breaking a contract, and although I don't agree with the old crocodile on everything, he's absolutely spot on about that."

Belle remembered her brief conversation with Mr. Gold in the elevator and wondered if she ought to bring it up. She decided against it.

"My office is near my girls so if they need anything, I'm just a door away," Killian continued, offering her another uncomfortable smile. "You be sure to take advantage of that, all right, Belle?" He winked at her and Belle raised and lowered one shoulder.

"All right, then feel free to dive right in!" Killian yawned a little bit. "Emma love, the morning's catching up with me, would you be a dear and get me a coffee?"

Something twitched in Emma's expression. If looks could kill, Killian Jones would be on the ground right now.

"Mr. Jones," Emma stated with acid sweetness. "I've worked her for nearly a decade, I've trained most everyone in this department including you, I'm in charge of hiring the admins—I think I've bypassed coffee duty."

"Now, Emma," Killian said scolding. "Think of the example you're setting for Miss French. I just got done telling her how important loyalty and teamwork are to this company and here you're parroting a 'one for all' mentality. I'm disappointed in you, love."

Emma looked like she was resisting the urge to deck her boss but forced a pained smile. She nodded curtly and ushered Belle out of the office.

"Oh, and let Rory know I need her to come in here, I want her to draft an email for me," Killian called as Emma shut the door with a decisive snap.

"Rory, Jones wants you," She snapped at the assistant. Rory nodded, picking up her notebook and pen and entered the office, closing the door behind her.

"Well, that was the boss," Emma exhaled slowly. "And his darling assistant. Jones has made no secret that she's doing a lot more for him than just writing letters, never mind they're both married…"

Belle's eyes widened and Emma sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

"Don't mind me," She patted Belle's shoulder awkwardly. "He makes me crabby. I gotta play nice till Friday, that's when they announce the promotion. I've been gunning for a managerial position for years and no one knows this department better than me…"

"Well, I wouldn't say no one," A wry voice remarked and Emma groaned. A young man pushing a mail cart grinned at both of them. His eyes looked vaguely familiar and Belle took in his dark, floppy hair and bemused expression.

"Back off, Neal," Emma snapped. "You could have any position you wanted, all you have to do is ask Daddy."

He made a face. "Fortunately, my pride is way more important than annoying you," He extended his hand to Belle. "Nice to meet you. I'm Neal Gold, executive managing vice president of the mailroom."

Belle laughed, squeezing his hand. He was charming, this one. "Did Emma mean…your father is…"

"Tavish Gold," Neal nodded in affirmation. "Yep, that's him. My lack of motivation frustrates him, but hey, I'm happy to do what I'm good at."

"Distributing mail," Emma commented dryly. "You're good at a lot more than that, moron."

"Aw, honey, I'm touched," Neal pressed a hand to his heart and Belle couldn't help but giggle at the two of them. She wondered if they were involved.

"I met him," Belle cleared her throat and both parties looked at her. "In the elevator on the way up here. He was very…friendly."

Neal cocked his head and Emma blinked. "Not a word I'd use to describe him," Emma remarked. "How about cold? Heartless? Distant? Frigid? Bastard?"

Neal nodded in agreement but Belle still had her doubts. But she couldn't afford to make enemies at the workplace so she simply raised and lowered one shoulder neutrally.

"Hi Belle," Rory approached her desk with a friendly smile. "How's your first day going? Getting all settled?"

Belle nodded, giving her a warm smile. Emma had been rather judgmental and harsh towards the young woman and Belle had further noticed that the rest of the office women treated Rory Costa like a pariah, shooting her glares and whispering behind her back. But Belle didn't like preconceived notions. She preferred casting her own judgments, after getting to know the party in question.

"Would you like to go to lunch with me?" Rory asked hopefully. "I know a really great sandwich place just around the corner."

"Sure," Belle said amiably, grabbing her purse.

The sandwich shop turned out to be a cozy little café called Dragon's that endeared itself to Belle almost immediately. It was almost grubby, certainly not as popular as the Panera or Starbucks right next door, but its originality drew its own fair share of customers as well.

"They have amazing soup here," Rory said eagerly. "And all different types of bread." She ordered a vegetarian sandwich on rye and merrily said she'd grab them a table by the window. She disappeared towards the back and Belle obediently stepped forward in line.

"I'd like a grilled chicken sandwich on wheat with an iced tea please," Belle requested. The cooks were fast, hurriedly handing over her tray and drink in record time. Feeling hungry, she turned around and tripped over her feet, spilling all of her iced tea on the person behind her.

"Oh, I'm so—" She froze. She had just capsized her iced tea on Tavish Gold, the owner of Gold Consolidated.

For a horror-filled moment, Belle was terrified she would be fired on the spot. But to her surprise, Gold started laughing. Laughing.

"I'm so, so sorry!" Sanity returned to Belle and she immediately snatched napkins off the counter, asking one of the workers for a dish towel. "I didn't mean to, please forgive me—"

"It's all right," He chuckled. "My son is always threatening to destroy my suits, he'll be pleased you beat him to the punch…."

Color stained her cheeks. "Please—maybe if we dry clean it, it'll—"

"It really is no matter," Gold assured her. "And what of you? Are you enjoying your first day?"

Belle blinked, recalling Emma and Neal's choice words in describing Tavish Gold. Distant? Cold? He seemed positively warm towards her…

"It's…a little overwhelming," She admitted. "But Emma Swan is nice and helpful. I'm having lunch with Aurora Costa, she's a sweetheart. Even if the job is hard, if the people are sweet, I think I can handle anything."

"A positive mentality," Gold noted. "And what of…your boss? Killian Jones?"

Belle hesitated. The truth of the matter was that Killian Jones bothered her, though she couldn't hazard why. Something about the way he carried himself, perhaps his slightly bloated ego garnered automatic dislike. Furthermore…Belle was certain she did not ever want to be in a room alone with him.

But Belle was not one to cast aspersions, certainly after only one impression. "He seemed very affable," She decided was the safest answer.

"Mm," Gold's expression was carefully guarded. "Well. Let me know if you need anything." He stepped up towards the counter, intent on placing his order.

Automatically, Belle responded, "Yes, you too!" She immediately flushed at how foolish she sounded.

"Oh certainly, I'm sure I have a few other shirts that need a good dousing," Gold remarked drolly, but not maliciously. Belle couldn't help but giggle and flashed him a smile before rejoining Aurora.