Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Rated: M
Tags: *Belle/Rumpelstiltskin, *Moe French, *Ruby Lucas, *Regina Mills, *Dove, *Angst, *A deal with the Dark One, *True Love, *Storybrooke, *Hurt/Comfort, *AU – Canon Divergence, *Smut, *Fluff, *Moe is a douchebag, *Valentine's Day
Summary: Gold has a deal for Belle … "I'll forgive your father's loans if you become my housekeeper, spend Valentine's Day with me … oh, and you have to give me two kisses per day." Left with little choice, Belle agrees, but who will emerge the victor in their little meeting of the minds? Will she succumb, or will he fall victim to his own machinations?
Valentine writing contest for OUAT Fan Fiction & Creations on Facebook (2014). Prompt: Major Pairing, Red, Heart, Rose
A/n: This is another of my re-posts, darlings. Hope you enjoy this little blast from the past.
A Bargain for Her Heart
By:
CharlotteAshmore
I
Mr. Gold turned the placard hanging on the door to Sorry, we're closed and threw the deadbolt, securing his privacy as he made his way hurriedly to the back room of the pawn shop. He breathed heavily, his face ashen and his stomach churning and roiling as another wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. The name chanted a litany in his aching head as he nearly fell into the plush leather chair behind his cluttered desk.
Emma, Emma, Emma … Damn Regina! Damn the curse! Damn her lies which spew forth like bile to infect and destroy until nothing is left. The savior had come and with her, the return of his memories. Only one memory seemed to dominate his every thought. His Belle, his true love, the reason his heart had begun to beat once more and save him from the eternal darkness … was alive.
Belle. His breath caught in his throat as he recalled her delicate features, the curve of her exposed neck begging for his lips, the brightness of her smile upon her rosebud mouth, her cerulean eyes which lit up with laughter and love and the angelic chime of her voice. He ached for her with every fiber of his being. And in his rage, he'd thrown it all away. In his cowardice, he'd shunned her and sent her away from the Dark Castle and his life forever.
Regina, bile spewing from her twisted ruby mouth, her words daggers meant to wound, to slice, to tear into him with every utterance, had metaphorically ripped his heart from his chest with only two … she died. And he had been vulnerable enough in his guilt, in his pain, for choosing his power over Belle, to believe her.
He'd searched for her, scoured the entire realm for any hint of her essence, only to be disappointed over and over again. She was gone, dead. Her light had been extinguished, the same light which had been brave enough to wage war against his darkness.
Never again would he hear her laugh, see her smile, or feel her touch, and he'd felt as though a part of him had died along with her. He, Rumpelstiltskin, the most powerful mage to ever live, the terror of the Enchanted Forest, had felt he could exist as long as his Belle was alive, happy, and safe. And now she was no more. His heart had blackened, his rage had built, and despair had enshrouded his soul.
"Lies! Cruel, vicious lies!" he raged. He grabbed his pounding head in both hands and closed his eyes, willing the pain to subside. His memories of Rumpelstiltskin and Mr. Gold, two halves of the same person, battled mercilessly behind his sable eyes. His Belle had been alive all this time and he'd never known her for who she truly was.
Under the curse, she was Belle French, daughter of that worthless good for nothing florist two blocks over. Moe French gambled, he drank, he mismanaged his funds and Belle was there to enable him by working two jobs to keep his business from going under. She worked at Granny's as a waitress, dependent on her sweet smile to encourage the diners to tip her well, every penny put toward the debts her father owed. Then she would work at the flower shop for free so Moe wouldn't have to pay wages to someone else.
Gold opened the bottom drawer of his desk and removed a tumbler and a half-empty bottle of scotch. He poured two fingers of the amber liquid into the glass and tossed it back, ignoring the burn of the liquid as it coursed down his throat to settle uneasily in his empty stomach. It didn't help the pain in his chest where his heart beat dully in agony. An agony only the return of his love could ease.
Tears gathered in his eyes as he thought of the fiery little woman who worked so hard. How she could continue to care for her father he didn't know. More than once he'd seen her with a bruise on her cheek or finger marks on her arms when Moe had had too much to drink or lost too much at the track. The rage began to build once more, and his long slender fingers gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white and bloodless.
But was he any better? Regina had made sure to have her revenge against him. He'd written the curse to make her have to sacrifice the heart of the thing she loved most. She'd taken the heart of her father. Then the wench had turned around and made it where he would have to take Belle's. Not in the literal sense; no … Regina was cruel and much more vicious in her plans.
She had made it where every time he interacted with Belle, he would be indifferent, cold and malicious. In turn, Belle would think him the most callous man in existence. They didn't love one another under the curse; they were enemies. But of all the enemies he'd made out of his tenants and those who were indebted to him, she was the only one unafraid to stand up to him.
Regina had made certain Belle hated him and wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. The very thought of seeing hatred in his beloved's eyes made his stomach roil viciously. He raked a hand through his hair, a few strands coming loose on his fingers in his frustration. How was he supposed to fix this? How was he supposed to reawaken her love for him? He wasn't sure that he could. And even if he did, would she still feel the same way about him as she had before he'd callously shunned her and cast her out?
The first thing he had to do was get her to talk to him, and considering her feelings towards him, he was afraid it would be a daunting task. A slow smile, reminiscent of his alter-ego, formed on his lips as he thought of the fire which would ignite in her eyes when she learned of his scheme. She'd have no alternative but to make a deal with him. She'd be furious and passionate and glorious, and she would be at his mercy. He'd remind her of who she was, who he was and who they were together. He'd wake her up or die trying.
*.*.*
Belle opened the bathroom door and dashed into her bedroom across the hall in the two bedroom flat above the flower shop she shared with her father. She glanced anxiously at the digital clock sitting on the nightstand by her bed and groaned. She was going to be late for her shift at Granny's, which meant this was going to be her third offense. She'd be extremely fortunate if she still had a job at the end of the day.
Dressing the fastest she'd ever done before, she ran through the flat yelling at her father to get up and get moving so he could open the shop downstairs. He was face down on the sofa in the living room, snoring away into a pillow, the floor littered with beer cans.
She picked up her apron and her purse and made her way down the stairs, her trainers silent on the staircase. She opened the door to the shop and barreled into Mr. Dove, a giant of a man who worked for Mr. Gold. Belle had to crane her neck to look up into his stern countenance and smile sheepishly. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Dove, but I'm going to be late. The rent isn't due until next week. Did you need something?"
"Mr. Gold asked me to deliver this to Mr. French," he told her, his voice soft. He'd never been unkind to Belle before and he wasn't going to start now. "Is he available?"
Belle glanced behind her at the door she'd just locked behind her, worrying her bottom lip between her pearly teeth, and then down to the pristine envelope in his hands. "Um … no, actually. Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, trying not to cringe at the thought of the big man facing her father in his hung over condition.
"I was really supposed to give this to your father, Miss Belle."
Belle pasted her sweetest smile to her face and looked up. "How about you let me take that and come by the diner later for a cup of coffee … on me. It's the least I can do for putting you to so much trouble this morning."
The corner of Dove's mouth twitched slightly in the semblance of a smile before he chased it away. In his position as Mr. Gold's muscle, he wasn't allowed to show his softer side, even to little girls as lovely as Belle French. "That won't be necessary, Miss Belle. I will come back later when Mr. French is available."
"Suit yourself, Mr. Dove," she replied sweetly and turned to walk the two blocks to Granny's. "But don't forget to come by for coffee."
Dove fished his cell phone from his pocket and called Mr. Gold. "Mr. French is unavailable and Miss Belle offered to take delivery."
"Did you give it to her?" Gold asked.
"No, you said to give it directly to Mr. French."
Gold sighed on the other end of the phone as he thought of his Belle running off down the street for her shift at Granny's, suddenly very hungry for breakfast. "Use your key, Dove, and make sure Mr. French understands the terms of the contract in your possession. You'll undoubtedly have to sober him up first."
"As you wish, Mr. Gold."
"Oh, and, Dove? Make certain he's sober by the time Belle arrives for her shift at Game of Thorns … by any means necessary."
*.*.*
"I know I'm late," Belle groaned as she came to stand next to Ruby behind the counter, tying the strings of her apron and picking up an order pad. "Thanks for covering for me."
Ruby rolled her eyes as if she couldn't care less if Belle was late or not. It's not as though she hadn't been late before and she lived just behind the diner at the B&B with her grandmother. "So why were you late this time, Belles? Don't tell me it's because you had a date last night. Not even I would believe that one." Everyone in town knew Belle French worked too hard to have time to date.
Belle sighed deeply to stifle a yawn which was threatening. "No, I was up last night doing the books for the shop." A deep frown creased her brow. "I just don't understand how my father has gotten along all these years without the business going under."
Ruby placed her hands on Belle's shoulders and gave her a little shake. "Why should he care when you're working two jobs to support his sorry ass?" she asked heatedly. "If you left, maybe he would take responsibility for his own life and sober up. He's using you!"
"Shh!" Belle hissed, refusing to go into this topic with Ruby this morning. She was tired and her mind was still fogged with weariness. She didn't need to listen to her best friend rant at her … even if it was the truth. "You don't need to announce it to the entire diner."
"I'm sorry, Belles," Ruby apologized, ducking her head to hide the fury burning in her deep brown eyes. "I just worry about you."
"I know." Belle pushed her hurt feelings aside and grabbed a fresh pot of coffee to make the rounds in her section. She had just filled Dr. Whale's cup when the bell on the door jingled, announcing a new arrival. The smile of greeting slid off her face to land somewhere around her shoes when she saw Mr. Gold walk into the diner, leaning heavily on his cane, and take a seat at the farthest booth to the back of her section. Damn! Just what I need. Can this day get any better? she thought dryly as she marched over to him.
"Good morning, Mr. Gold. Coffee?" she asked, flipping over the coffee mug on the table preparing to pour. She was a hair's-breath from sneering at the odious little man. If it weren't for him, maybe she wouldn't have to work so hard to make ends meet.
"Good morning, Belle. How are you, dearie?" he asked, his mouth curving up into a half moon smile from the pleasure of seeing her. For the past two days, his mind had been filled with memories from both lives and now she was standing before him in all her glory trying her damnedest to keep from pouring the pot of coffee she held in his lap.
Belle quirked a brow and narrowed her eyes on him dangerously as she wondered what game he was playing at now. He nodded to the mug waiting on the table and she poured, her eyes flitting between the cup and the pawnbroker. "What can I get for you this morning, Mr. Gold?" she asked, her voice quavering slightly as she met his bold stare.
He licked his suddenly dry lips, wanting nothing more than to haul her forcefully from the premises and lock her away in his home until she regained her memory. He could tell by the tightening of her lips into a thin line she had been unsettled by his casual query. They just didn't exchange pleasantries. It wasn't done. He would enjoy getting his revenge on Regina for her machinations. He was brought out of his reverie by the impatient tapping of her pen against the order booklet.
"I'm sorry, dear, what did you say?"
"What. Can. I. Get. You?" she asked, her tone implying he was dense in the extreme.
His lips twitched at her condescending tone. Only his Belle would be so bold. "What do you recommend?" he asked, causing her to gape in astonishment. He never asked for anyone's opinion. Ever. He was enjoying their little game.
She recovered quickly, snapping her mouth closed and smiling with honey sweet venom. "What do I recommend? How about …" She leaned forward, her palm flat on the table and her nose mere inches from his own. He inhaled sharply, her scent of roses and vanilla enveloping him and stealing away his good sense. "… eating elsewhere. Boston, maybe?" she asked, cocking her head to the side as though giving the idea serious thought.
Gold could hear the needle scratch reverberating in his head and his lips curled back into a snarl. "Fine. French toast, bacon … make certain it's crisp."
Without another word, she turned on her heel and flounced off to put his order in. Moments later, she dropped his plate heavily on the table in front of him. "Oh, sorry, Mr. Gold," she grinned unrepentantly, anything but.
"This is not what I ordered," he complained, looking down at the dry unbuttered toast and an order of sausage links."
Belle smiled sweetly and fluttered her lashes innocently in his direction. "Of course, it is, Mr. Gold. You ordered French toast and an order of crisp bacon." She glanced down at his plate. "And that's exactly what I've brought you." She placed his ticket face down on the table beneath his empty coffee cup … a cup she had no intention of refilling. "Have a lovely day."
His quiet laughter followed her all the way back to the counter as he ignored the plate before him and rose from the booth, dropping several bills on the table. Belle stiffened and grabbed a damp towel to wipe down the counter, her cool cerulean gaze following Gold to the door. She had to bite her lip to keep her face impassive. She'd never heard Gold laugh before and she'd definitely never been the cause of it. But what surprised her most was the warm tingling heat which ignited in her blood as the sound of his laughter washed over her.
*.*.*
"He did what?" Belle shrieked, dropping heavily onto the chair at the kitchen table. She had come upstairs to change clothes before starting her shift at the flower shop and found her father nearly weeping into his cup of coffee.
"You can read it for yourself, my girl. Gold has raised the rate on the loan and increased the rent by a hundred dollars," he groaned, dropping his head into his hands as he wallowed in misery of his own making, looking for someone else to blame. "We'll never make it. We're barely scraping by as it is."
Belle's mind whirled with the panic rising within her. They were going to lose the business. They were going to be evicted. Homeless, jobless and still taking care of her father. It couldn't happen. "Maybe you can take my shift at the shop and I can find another job. Perhaps Mr. Clark would hire me as a cashier. Or I could try to find work at the market?" she asked, not really expecting her father to answer and surprised when he did.
"If I take your shift, who's going to make the deliveries? I can't do both, Belle. I need you to work."
Fury and helplessness didn't make a great combination. "Damn him! This is all his fault and I'm not going to sit by and let him get away with this."
*.*.*
Gold smirked to himself as he poured the water into the ceramic teapot on his desk. He glanced at the clock above the door leading into the front of the shop. Belle should have gotten home over an hour ago. He wondered idly if Moe French had already shared the news with his lovely daughter. She should be in a right fit state of anger by now. He closed his eyes, imagining her in all her fury; eyes flashing, lips parted, face flushed, chest heaving. He had to bite his lip to fight down the white-hot surge of lust which assailed him.
The bell over the door chimed, followed by a slam, heralding the arrival of his beloved. "Gold, you bastard! Get your scrawny ass out here this instant!" she shouted.
He glanced down at himself, a frown forming between his eyes. Scrawny? Did she really think him scrawny or was that the curse talking? Oh, she was in a fine rage, he thought as he pushed the curtain aside and stood in the doorway, taking her in. His imaginings had been spot-on. She was breathtaking. "Ah, Miss French, what a delightful surprise. What can I do for …"
Her open palm smacked loudly against his left cheek. "How dare you! You know damn good and well we can't afford an increase and yet you did it anyway."
Gold's eyes glowed like twin coals, a sharp contrast to the deep red handprint forming on his face. He grabbed her wrist and hauled her into the back room, letting the curtain flutter back into place behind them and swinging her around to face him. "There is no cause for violence." He didn't know what he wanted to do more, put her over his knee and spank her or kiss her senseless.
"I can't think of a better reason than you trying to ruin us!" She was still yelling, and it was beginning to make his head ache. She was going to have to calm down if he was going to have any chance of having a civil conversation with her. Although, with what he had in mind, she wasn't going to be happy.
"Have a seat, dearie. Tea?" he asked, gracing her with a smirk. It took all his self-control to bite back a giggle.
Her mouth fell open, gaping at him incredulously. "Are you daft, man? I am not here to have tea with you."
"Suit yourself," he shrugged, pouring himself a cup and settling himself in the chair behind his desk. She crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive maneuver and glared at him, her eyes flashing daggers in his direction. He was glad to have the desk in front of him to hide his arousal. "You still have time to come up with the money you owe me, Miss French. It isn't due until next week."
Her nails dug into her upper arms to stop herself from screeching, instead willing herself to speak calmly through her clenched teeth. "I cannot come up with an additional eight hundred dollars in a week, Gold. We're barely making it now as it is. Even if I can get another job instead of working at Game of Thorns, there's no way I'll get a paycheck for two weeks. And we all know how ungracious you are with extensions."
His smug smile took a nose dive into his tea cup and he actually felt guilt gnaw at his gut. He admitted it; he was a ruthless bastard. He was a monster. Without his Belle, he didn't care who he hurt, who he took advantage of or who he left homeless. Without her, nothing mattered. He didn't have anyone to mold him into a better man. He needed her light to fight back his darkness, and there she stood looking at him as if he were a gooey mess stuck to the bottom of her shoe. He had to remind himself that what he was doing was for her. Or was it ultimately for him? He'd have to rethink that one later. He'd come this far. It was much too late to back out now.
"What do you suggest, Miss French?" he asked, cursing himself inwardly when his voice came out soft and heavily accented. Now was not the time to let his love for her soften his resolve.
Belle dropped down wearily on the sofa in his office and pinched the bridge of her nose, stalling for time as she thought it through. She had nothing left of value to offer him, her father had already seen to that, stripping them of everything to support his vices. "I don't know," she said, her voice flat and devoid of hope.
Gods, he hated to see her so broken. "Why do you do it, Belle? Why do you work so hard to support a father who couldn't care less if you were sleeping in a gutter?" he hissed indignantly, his own anger firing his blood at seeing his love being mistreated and feeling helpless to take away her misery without adding to it first. "He gambles away what little you bring home. And what he doesn't gamble away, he spends on alcohol. He doesn't care if you have a roof over your head, or food on the table. When is the last time you had a decent meal, Belle?" he asked, rising from his chair and coming to stand before her.
Tears streamed down her face and she brushed them away quickly before he could see. Her hair fell forward, forming a curtain around her face to hide her ashen features from him. "Papa loves me. He just has a problem, one I can't seem to fix," she confessed in a small voice, hating the pain evident in her tone.
He sat down beside her and touched her chin, surprised when she lifted her watery blue eyes to meet his gaze instead of flinching away from him. "Tell me what you want, Belle. Are you willing to make a deal with me?"
A shiver tripped up her spine, one which left her with a feeling of absolute warmth at the way her name tumbled from his lips. For the first time, she felt a ray of hope shine on her desolation. But how could she even think about making a deal with the monster of Storybrooke? No one ever came away on the better side of a deal with him. But really, what choice did she have? "What do you want, Gold? What more could you possibly take from us?" she asked, allowing all her bitterness and frustration creep into her tone.
"Are you certain this is what you want? If you agree to my deal, there will be no backing out. You will have to fully commit to it," he said, kicking himself for even suggesting an out.
"Will it save our business?"
"Yes." He offered her his handkerchief and sat back, well away from her to give her time to consider. "But I will explain my terms before you decide. I want you to know exactly what I expect from you before you agree."
Belle collapsed against the back of the sofa and rested her head against the soft cushion, trying to prepare herself for the inevitable. She didn't have a choice. It didn't matter what his terms were, she'd be forced to accept. This is what he wanted. This was why he'd backed her into a corner, and she hated him for it.
She peeked at him from beneath her lashes, expecting to see him wearing an expression of triumph. She frowned, wondering why he wasn't oozing with smug satisfaction. Instead, he was watching her with what almost amounted to sympathy.
Gold, for the first time in his life, was second guessing himself. He'd been over every scenario possible to get her away from her father and her miserable existence and every time it played in his head, she said no. A great big fat NO. And she was going to hate him. Again, he cursed Regina for giving Belle cursed memories where she loathed and despised him, her true love. It was just wrong.
He could only hope when everything was done, that she wouldn't hold it against him. "Alright, Miss French. If you hold up your end of the bargain, I will forgive your father's debt and lower the rent by five hundred dollars."
Belle's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, her gasp the only sound in the room. "You're joking right?"
"I assure you, Miss French, I don't joke about my deals," he assured her, mildly affronted she would think so. "As I was saying, I will forgive the loan and lower the rent."
She narrowed her disbelieving gaze on him, highly suspicious now of what she'd have to do in return. "Oh, Gods! I am not having sex with you, you pervert!" she railed at him, climbing to her feet and marching towards the curtain.
"Sit down, Miss French!" he commanded through clenched teeth. She stopped, a shiver of fear coursing through her, never having heard him raise his voice like that before. She resumed her seat and stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze. "I'm not asking you to have sex with me." More's the pity! He rose from the sofa and retrieved the contract he'd had drawn up for her from his desk.
Belle reluctantly took the contract from him and read aloud. "I, Belle French, do hereby agree to the following:
… I agree to move into the home of Mr. R. Gold in the capacity of housekeeper, effective immediately.
… I agree to quit my jobs at both Granny's Diner and Game of Thorns, effective immediately.
"How the hell am I supposed to pay you back if I can't work?"
He waved a hand as if it were of no consequence to him. "Continue reading, dearie."
… I agree as housekeeper to be available for any and all needs of the master of the house. (Does not include any sexual favors)
… I agree to not have contact with family or friends for the duration of the contract.
Belle ground her teeth together. "I can't even see my father?"
"Will he even notice you're gone?" he countered.
… I agree to two kisses per day. What the hell is this?
"What do you mean two kisses per day?" she asked, outraged.
"I would think someone with your intelligence would understand plain written English. It means, dearie, that you will kiss me before I leave for work in the morning and again before I retire for the evening," he said, willing his body to obey his command to remain still and unflinching. He could feel the beast caged within him snarling to get free … free to kick him repeatedly for only asking for two. True Love's kiss would never work if he couldn't somehow get her to fall in love with him again, after all. "Really, Miss French. I'm asking for very little. I don't see why you should object."
"I am not believing this," she mumbled under her breath. She ignored him and returned to the contract.
… I agree to spend Valentine's Day in any way my employer chooses.
"Valentine's Day? Are you that desperate for a date?" she asked, casting him a scathing glance. She sighed heavily and lowered the contract to her lap. "I'm sorry. That was really rather mean of me."
"It's alright, Miss French, I understand your reticence," he said softly, trying to hide the pain her statement caused. He knew she loved him. Her feelings were just buried under the guise of the curse. If she could fall in love with him as Rumpelstiltskin, he was certain she could fall in love with him as Mr. Gold. But it didn't make her scorn any easier for him to bear.
"Do we have a deal?"
"I have a question." He raised his brows in askance, waiting. "Why are you doing this? Why do you want to help me?"
"Who says I am?" he countered, rising from the sofa to pour another cup of tea, giving her his back. He didn't need her trying to read the emotions which were so easily discernable on his face. She was far more perceptive than the average female and he didn't want her to discover his true motives.
"You don't seem to be getting the better end of this deal. From what I know of you, it's very out of character. You are giving up a lot of money and all you ask in return is that I become your housekeeper," she explained, a note of wonder entering her voice.
"Don't read anything into it, Miss French. I have my own reasons for doing this, reasons which will remain my own. Now, are you going to sign the contract, or shall I begin proceedings to transfer the flower shop into my possession?"
Belle rose from the sofa and stalked over to the desk, snatching up the ball point pen he held out to her. "Fine," she hissed, signing her name in an elegant array of loops and swirls at the bottom of the contract. She left the contract on the desk and moved to the curtain to go home.
"Where are you going, dearie?" he asked, not turning to look at her. He schooled his features into a bland mask, not wanting his face to betray the glee abounding freely and joyously in his soul.
"I'm going home to pack, Mr. Gold. Or did you expect me to fulfill my duty naked?" she asked dryly, sarcasm dripping from her tone as a lone brow rose in challenge.
"The contract stated," and he quoted, "immediately. You will not be returning home. Everything you could possibly want or need is already awaiting you in my home." He pointed to the phone on the desk. "You will now have a seat and make two phone calls. One will be to Granny's telling her that you are resigning your position. The second will be to your father, explaining what has occurred. When you are done, we will leave so you can get settled in your new home." With that he left her alone, tears stinging her eyes and a look of hopelessness on her face which made his heart clench with sadness.
*.*.*
Belle kept sneaking glances at Gold from the corner of her eye as he drove her through the streets of Storybrooke to the Game of Thorns. She had refused to tell her father of her life-changing decision over the phone, insisting she be allowed to tell him in person. Moe French may have his problems, but he was still her father and he deserved to hear about the contract from her, not some random gossip-monger off the street.
Gold was simply glorious in his wrath. She was used to seeing him cold and indifferent, never letting anything get to him and never ever showing any emotion whatsoever to the people he terrorized. Now as he drove her home, his face was flushed with fury, his dark eyes more black than brown, a muscle ticking away in his jaw due to the way he was grinding his teeth together and his hands clenched, pale and bloodless on the steering wheel. He refused to look at her, refusing to take that wrath out upon her, for which she was extremely grateful.
He stopped in front of the shop and turned the engine off, turning in his seat to face her. "Belle, please reconsider. This is not going to end well," he said, his eyes pleading with her to trust him and heed his advice. She had agreed to the contract, albeit reluctantly and he was ready to take her home. He wanted to protect her and shield her from anything which could harm her, yet here he was, placing her into the path of an abusive and destructive father. He was a bloody idiot!
"I need to get my necklace, Gold. It's the only thing I have left of my mother and I'm not going to leave it here for him to find." She lowered her head and looked at her hands folded in her lap for want of something better to do. "And I have to tell him what I've done. He needs to know he doesn't have to worry about losing everything. It's the least I can do considering I'm not going to be able to work in the shop anymore."
She just knew she wouldn't be able to meet his gaze and still hold on to her composure. He was being too nice, too understanding and it didn't sit well with her. She would have rathered the cold indifference she'd come to expect from him.
Gold refused to feel guilty for taking her away from the misery her life had become. Moe French didn't deserve to have this wonderful, hard-working woman for his daughter. "Then at least let me go up with you. You don't have to do this alone." Belle shook her head in refusal and he sighed. "I'm going to order us something to eat from Granny's. I'll be back in thirty minutes."
When she still didn't look at him, he gripped her chin lightly and forced her to meet his gaze. "Give me your phone," he ordered, ignoring the look of confusion she tossed his way. He took the phone from her trembling hands and programmed his number into her contact list, placing it on her speed dial in the first slot. "If you need me, do not hesitate to call. Do you understand me, Belle?"
"Yes," was all she said as she quickly clambered from the car and opened the door to the shop with her key. Her father was well into his cups when she entered the flat and made her way directly to her bedroom.
She laid on the chilled wooden floorboards and scooted under her bed. The loose board lifted easily under her familiar hands and she withdrew a small velvet drawstring bag from beneath, containing her mother's necklace. She scooted back out and stood, looking about the room to see if there was anything else she wished to bring with her. She didn't bother with her clothes.
Gold had claimed an entire wardrobe containing anything she may need awaited her at her new home. Why he would go to such trouble was beyond her. He'd merely stated that if she was going to live in his home, she would not do so dressed in rags. She had to admit she couldn't remember the last time she'd bought anything for herself, including her clothes. There was nothing else she needed or wanted and the thought that she owned nothing of value made her sad. She flipped off the light in her room for the last time and made her way back to the kitchen.
"Where have you been?" Moe yelled at her, his words slurring and the beer he was drinking splashing against the linoleum as he stumbled into the kitchen. "I had to work your entire shift and was unable to make the deliveries."
Belle cleaned up the mess on the floor and took his beer from him, setting it down on the faded tablecloth covering the worn card table which served their kitchen. She coaxed him to sit down so she could talk to him with the table between them. She didn't want to be within striking distance should he not take the news favorably. "I went to see Mr. Gold, Papa," she began, striving for a cheerful tone. "I needed to see if I could get him to change his mind."
It wasn't a lie. Of course, first she'd wanted to make sure he knew how angry she was. She cast her eyes down on the floor as she spoke, her voice soft. She knew better than anyone how to divert her father's more harmful outbursts.
"Really? Did he change his mind?" he asked, hope coming to life on his swarthy features, and removing years from his visage.
Belle smiled ruefully, a bitter laugh bubbling from her lips. "Well, I do have some good news," she assured him with false brightness. "He's going to forgive your loan and lower the rent by five hundred dollars."
"That's wonderful, my girl. I didn't know my daughter was such a brilliant negotiator," he said proudly.
"There's a catch, Papa. I won't be able to work in the shop any longer." She rushed ahead as she watched the smile slide from his face. "But now that you'll have more money, you can hire someone to take my place. With the rent lowered and not having to pay the loan, it will be easy to find someone to help out around the shop."
"Why can't you work at the shop, Belle?"
She squared her shoulders and hesitantly met his gaze, pleading with her eyes for him to understand. "Because, Papa, I'm going to be working for Mr. Gold. I'm going to be his housekeeper. That's my part of the deal."
"No! I'll not have it. We'll find some other way to pay what we owe. I'll not have you working for that monster," he yelled, spittle hitting the tablecloth as his rage swelled and overflowed like a viscous poison.
Belle shrank back in her chair, his wrath a palpable, tangible force which crept along her spine and sapped her courage. "It's already done. I'm going to be living with him and taking care of his home. I'll have my own room and barely have any contact with him. He keeps late hours and …" Smack! She cried out as the force of his blow knocked her from the chair onto the floor at his feet. How could she not have seen it coming? How could she not have seen him rising to his feet and lunging for her?
The pain in her cheek made her dizzy, only one thought prevalent in her whirling and confused mind … run! He was rounding the table to reach for her and she froze, too terrified to move. She'd never seen him this angry and she knew if she didn't get away, he would seriously hurt her.
"Papa, please!" she screamed helplessly, closing her eyes and trying to shield her head with her arms. But the blow never came. Instead of her screams filling the tiny flat, it was those of her father as he wailed in agony, the sound of bones crunching filling the air.
Gold had turned around the moment he'd pulled up in front of the diner, knowing Belle shouldn't have to face her father alone. What if he'd been drinking and decided to take his anger out on her? No doubt, it wouldn't matter what she had agreed to would benefit the florist. French would only think Gold was taking advantage of her and she didn't have the sense to realize it. He would take it out on her and Gold couldn't stand by and do nothing to protect her.
He'd returned as quickly as possible and made his way upstairs in time to hear Moe's hand connect with Belle's cheek, sending her to the floor with a scream of pain. He couldn't stop the red haze which blurred his vision. He just knew he had to protect her from more pain. Protect her now as he hadn't been able to protect her from Regina. He didn't know how many times his cane came in contact with the man lying unconscious now at his feet. It was Belle standing before him, screaming at him to stop, tears coursing down her face which brought him out of it.
Belle grabbed his arm with one hand, lowering it to his side and cupped his cheek in her other. "Gold, stop. You're going to kill him," she begged, her voice a hoarse whisper due to her tears. "Please."
He nuzzled his face into the palm of her hand, his own covering hers to keep her from pulling away. He dropped his cane to the cracked linoleum and brought his right hand up, his fingertips gently brushing the darkening flesh of her cheek. "He hurt you, Belle," he said, as if those four words were justification enough for his rash behavior. "You're mine now and I'll not let anyone hurt you ever again."
And she knew every word he spoke was the truth. She was his, bound to him by contract and no one ever broke a deal with him. She was well and truly trapped by her own word, but what puzzled her was the fact that she wasn't sorry for making the deal with him. Deep down in some hidden region of her soul, she wanted to be his.
She trembled as he pulled her gently into his embrace, her head coming to rest against his chest. She felt numb and cold and his arms felt warm and familiar around her, giving her the comfort she so desperately needed. No one had ever cared enough for her to protect her from her father. She hadn't realized how much she needed someone until that moment, and it frightened her.
She couldn't let herself become accustomed to his arms, however. She had made a deal to be his housekeeper, not his lover, not his wife, and certainly not his friend. They'd been at odds for years. This deal wasn't going to be able to mend all the scorched bridges which lay in waste behind them.
Gold closed his eyes as he stroked his long slender fingers through the silk of her hair. She was in his arms again, but for the wrong reasons and it made him want to beat her father a few more times with his cane. "Belle, did you get what you needed? Are you ready to go home?"
Home. She forced herself to swallow around the lump in her throat. This flat had been her home for as long as she could remember, but the thought that she would be leaving it didn't make her sad and teary-eyed. No, the thought that she would be leaving brought forth a wealth of relief. Home was now with Gold, with the man who claimed he would protect her and keep her safe and well, and the sooner she accepted it, the better off she would be.
Belle pushed away from him slightly, but he retained the arm he had around her shoulders, refusing to let her retreat too far. Her tears stained the front of his silk shirt and her running makeup had completely ruined his tie. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Gold. I think I may have ruined your clothes," she said hesitantly as she met his gaze, hoping he wouldn't be too terribly angry.
"Dearie, it's just a shirt and tie. They can be replaced," he waved off her worry, offering her a half moon smile. "Come. Let's get you home and settled. We'll call the Sherriff so he can file a report and call an ambulance for your father."
"But …"
"No buts," he said firmly, leading her out of the flat, hopefully for the last time. If he had his way, which was usually the case, she'd never have to come back there again.
*.*.*
Graham knocked on the front door of Gold's house just as the pawn broker settled an ice pack to Belle's bruised cheek. "Here, dearie, press this to your cheek and keep it there. It will help the swelling," he said, nodding to her as she did as he instructed. He left her sitting on a stool near the island in the center of his kitchen and went to answer the door.
"Mr. Gold," the sheriff greeted, holding out a bag of takeout. "Granny said you ordered this and then didn't pick it up. Thought I would bring it along with me when the call came. She put it on your tab." He followed Gold into the foyer and down the hall into his kitchen. "Want to tell me what happened?"
Gold went to the stove and removed the whistling kettle from the burner, pouring the boiling water into the ceramic teapot before meeting the sheriff's gaze. "I'll tell you what happened. Moe French is an abusive bastard who likes to use his daughter as a punching bag," he fumed, his voice hissing through his clenched teeth as he tried to contain his anger.
Graham's eyes were sympathetic as they met Belle's. She removed the ice pack from her face and grimaced. "It's alright, Graham, I'm fine. Mr. Gold saved me before it got out of hand," she explained.
"Miss French was curled up on the floor trying to protect herself when I arrived. If I hadn't gotten there in time, there's no telling what he would have done to her." Gold poured tea into a cup for Belle and added one sugar cube and a teaspoon of honey before handing it to her. Her eyes narrowed, wondering how he knew how she preferred her tea. He'd no doubt have to come up with an explanation later, one which didn't make him look like a stalker. "I, uh … I may have been a bit overzealous in my attempt to protect Miss French from her father."
Graham declined the offer of tea and planted his hands on his slim hips, rocking back on his heels. "Well, considering he still hadn't gained consciousness when the paramedics arrived, I would have to agree. He may want to press charges against you, Mr. Gold."
"Let him try. I was merely protecting Miss French," Gold insisted.
"Belle, you really need to come down to the station to make a statement and we're going to need pictures of you for the file … to show the extent of your injuries," Graham said gently. Belle looked to Gold and shook her head adamantly.
"I'm not pressing charges against my father," she stated firmly, her tone brooking no objection. She wasn't going anywhere and was prepared to fight anyone who thought to make her.
Gold seemed to agree with her. "Sheriff, she's tired, she's been beaten, and she needs care. I will not subject her to hours at the police station when it's not in her best interests. Tomorrow I will bring her in at noon. Will that suffice?"
Graham relented, but insisted he be allowed to take photos of her injured face with the camera on his phone. He bid them goodnight and left, leaving an awkward silence in his wake, neither Belle nor Gold knowing what to say. Finally, Gold spied the bag of food he'd ordered.
"Are you hungry, Miss French?" he asked, digging into the bag and pulling out two turkey sandwiches and two Styrofoam containers of chicken noodle soup.
Belle glared at him. "Don't start with that Miss French crap again, Gold. My name is Belle and it's the only name I will be answering to. Got it?" she asked, taking up her spoon and dipping it into the bowl. She was starving and in no mood to wage a battle of the names with him. She was Belle and he was Gold. Not Mr. Gold, just Gold until such time as he decided to be pleasant - if he even knew how - and tell her his first name. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to wait too long.
"Very well … Belle," he muttered softly, his accent thickening and sending warmth spreading through her limbs. She returned the smile he offered and then concentrated her attention on her soup.
With her stomach full for the first time in days, she sat patiently, pressing the ice pack to her face at his insistence and waited for him to finish his dinner. She looked around the spacious kitchen and sighed with pleasure. She loved to cook, she just never had the time to indulge in creating fancy dishes. She was always too busy working. She scooted off the stool and opened the refrigerator, a grimace passing over her face at the barren space. She closed it and moved to the large walk-in pantry, groaning.
"What is it you think I'm going to be able to cook for you tomorrow with an empty kitchen, Gold?" she asked, hands on her hips as she stared at him indignantly.
"Uh … well … I suppose after your visit to the station tomorrow we can stop at the market and buy groceries," he offered with a sheepish grin, surprised at her temerity to question him. She never had been frightened of him, in either realm. "Does that meet with your approval?"
She grinned at him, any shyness she'd felt earlier, now completely out the window. "Let's just hope I don't get hungry and want a midnight snack."
"Cheeky wench," he chuckled, enjoying their banter. For the first time in years, he was happy to be in his home. In the short hour she'd been there, she'd already spread warmth and light into his cold home.
He led her upstairs to show her to her room, promising that tomorrow he would give her a tour of the rest of the large Victorian mansion. He would also give her a list of her duties. For now, he just wanted her to get comfortable and rest. So much had changed in such a short time, he knew she would need time to adjust.
Her room took her breath away when he opened the door and flipped on the light. She immediately made her way to the bed and flopped down on it, squealing with delight at the size and comfort of the large four-poster. She'd never laid on anything so plush, the down mattress, mounds of pillows and thick comforter more than anything she'd ever hoped to own.
There was a nightstand on either side of the bed, both holding an antique lamp, one with a digital alarm clock. There was a dresser and mirror and a beautiful bay window with a cushioned seat which would be perfect to curl up on with a book. "Aren't you going to take a peek in your closet?" he asked from where he stood at the threshold. He refused to enter her private space without her express permission.
Belle was reluctant to pry herself away from the bed draped in blue and ivory comfort, but she could see how much he was anticipating her reaction to her closet. She had to stifle a cry of surprise as she flipped on the light. There were dresses and slacks, lovely tops and shoes, belts and bags and underthings and lingerie. She quirked a brow at the lingerie, wondering if he'd personally picked them out.
"Are you pleased?" he asked, a hopeful note in his voice.
"You didn't have to do this, Gold. I was expecting a maid's uniform at the very least."
His gaze dropped to his feet. She deserved everything he was able to give her, yet she didn't think she was worthy of it. She was so used to living paycheck to paycheck, struggling to make the rent, make the loan payment, buy food and take care of her worthless father, she didn't think she deserved nice things. He was going to kill Regina and he was going to enjoy it! He schooled his features into a mask of indifference and waved off her concern.
"I'll not have you traipsing around in rags or an ugly polyester uniform. You may be my housekeeper now, but this is to be your home as well and I want you to be happy here." He was rewarded by a blush which crept up her neck to settle in the apples of her cheeks. He pointed to a door to her right. "The key in that door is yours."
Her brow creased as she walked over to it and opened the door. "Gold, I can't take this room. It belongs to the lady of the house," she cried in alarm. The door led directly into his bedroom which adjoined hers.
"As I said, dearie. That key is yours. It is also the only one to fit that lock. You're perfectly safe." He pointed to another door. "That door leads into the bathroom which lies between the two bedrooms. Just make sure when you want to use it, you lock the door on both sides to ensure your privacy."
Belle stood awkwardly in the center of the room, fidgeting nervously as she watched him from beneath her lashes. "Thank you."
"For what?" he asked, puzzled.
"Everything. For saving me, for this room …" she whispered brokenly, her words trailing off into the ether, unsure of how to express her deep feelings and praying he would leave her soon before the tears once more claimed her.
Gold took the step back which would bring him out into the hall, suddenly nervous. "Well, I'll leave you to it then, Miss … Belle. Goodnight." He turned to leave and then stopped as she called out to him.
"Wait!"
"What is it?" he asked, alarmed slightly by her tone.
Belle moved to stand before him, her blush deepening. "You forgot your kiss, Gold. Two kisses per day, remember?" She was terrified of having to hold up this end of the bargain, but she was determined to follow the contract down to the last letter. She wouldn't give him any excuse to send her away. She couldn't return to her previous life, drowning in debt and living under the thumb of her father.
Gods! What had he been thinking when he'd added that little stipulation to the contract? And why was she suddenly so eager to fulfill it? "Ah … you don't, uh …"
She didn't give him a chance to change his mind, stepping forward and cupping his face in her hands. He was frozen in place as though he were carved in stone and it made her frown. She wasn't experienced with kissing. She wasn't experienced with anything pertaining to a sexual nature. In school, she'd been more concerned with her studies than dating and now she was going to have to suffer through this awkward moment to hold up her end of the bargain. She just hoped he wouldn't be disappointed. She brushed the hair away from his eyes and he leaned slightly into her palm, nuzzling it gently.
Her heart sped and her breathing quickened, a warmth she was unfamiliar with pooling low in her belly. "I'm afraid I'm not very good with this. I've never really …" She cringed and looked away. "I don't want to disappoint you."
"Not possible," Gold murmured, the deep timbre of his voice rough and passionate. He tipped her chin up and dropped his gaze to her mouth, not touching her in any other way. He already felt as if his blood was on fire. Anymore and he'd spontaneously combust. It was her turn to be stiff with nerves, every one of them telling her to run. "Relax, Belle."
"I don't …" But whatever protests she was going to utter, died a quick death as he closed the distance between them and brushed his lips to hers, softly at first and then with gentle pressure. His lips molded perfectly to hers and she closed her eyes, savoring the feeling. And all too soon he pulled away.
"Goodnight, my Belle," he whispered, and Belle watched him walk the short distance to his room before closing her own door and leaning heavily against it, wondering what exactly she had gotten herself into.
A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed this first chapter. Please let me know your thoughts good or bad. All of you who have reviewed for me before know how much I appreciate comments and feedback. Love to you all. Thank you so much for reading!