Gold tapped his fingertips on the edge of his desk, pondering the message he'd received in his inbox. It was from a long-time colleague and friend, a woman he'd known going on nearly a decade now. Zelena Green was a sharp woman currently serving as the curator for the New York Museum of Modern Art; a position he'd long envied, and their mutual respect and interest had led to a series of trysts.
His pulse quickened at the memory of their last meeting. To say that Zelena could be inventive was a vast understatement.
They had actually met through her brother in Sunshire, Mr. Green's hope being to play matchmaker for his friend and his younger sister. Gold had tried with her, but the spark between them hadn't been enough to build a solid future.
Rather, they had kept in touch throughout the years, usually only seeing each other in person when she invited him to authenticate a piece, or when the museum had an exclusive opening she knew he'd like. The work was their primary focus, but it was always either followed or preceded by dinner and a night spent at her townhouse.
A very hospitable hostess, was Zelena Green.
Hmm...
It was just such an invitation that held Gold's attention now: it seemed that Miss Green had come across a piece that may be a fraudulent replica, and she required his intimate knowledge of artifacts from the Scottish region of Ayrshire to authenticate. Gold appreciated that she had faith he was the man for the job; it had been some time since he'd seen a piece from the homeland - determining if the artifact was genuine or not would be a fine test of his skills.
As it was, Zelena could not authorize the piece for transport to him directly; it would be more convenient if Gold came to the city and he noted that there was even the offer that the museum would pay double his usual consultancy fee if he could come at once.
Gold thought about it.
The amount of time it would take him away from his dealings in Storybrooke, what resources he would need to verify the artifact...but one thought kept him from an immediate response: Belle.
The man trusted her, but all the same didn't want to leave her alone. As mind-boggling as it was, she'd confessed to missing him when his work kept him from the house.
Well.
There was only one thing for it, really, and Gold was quick in typing his acceptance. Even as he hit 'send', he reached for his cell to call Zelena and confirm with her over the phone.
As for Belle, all that remained was her answer.
Unbeknownst to Gold as he spoke with his old flame, Belle had overheard a bit of his side of the conversation and she hadn't liked what she'd heard. His voice had taken on a purring edge, his accent curling around a woman's name, Zelena.
Belle had never been one to eavesdrop, but she hadn't been able to force her feet forward past his study at hearing him speak behind the closed door. The change in him had been distinct - a deepening of his tone, a flirting lilt. There was a silent, unseen smile in his voice.
Zelena.
Who was she?
Belle had not stood outside his door to listen past him accepting some kind of invitation - "Oh, Zelena, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?" - and she was left to stew in the kitchen.
Zelena.
The name was exotic; a sensual name. Did the woman match? Was she some sultry beauty lingering in Mr. Gold's past? Belle went about making breakfast to share with the man, even though she brimmed with curious jealousy on the woman.
Idly, she built an image in her mind as she prepared a plate. An older woman, maybe in her mid-40s, caramel skin and long waves of ebony hair, flashing dark eyes and full lips curling into a smile that could entice any man.
She would be elegant, naturally. Mr. Gold would want nothing less.
Elegant, a natural temptress, flawless in her speech and movements.
Everything Belle aspired to be, but feared she could never achieve.
Was that the kind of woman Mr. Gold was speaking to?
Belle frowned to herself as she served herself tea and a light breakfast of honeyed scones and sliced melon. She was being ridiculous, fixating on some woman she imagined would steal Mr. Gold away, and all of her paranoid jealousy was only based on overhearing a handful of words.
Can I be any crazier? Belle wondered, pushing the thoughts aside. Still. He has been talking to her for a good while, now...
She brought out a magazine from her tote and started to read, an obvious effort to distract herself as Mr. Gold's mug of tea cooled on the other side of the table.
It was nearly forty-five minutes until Mr. Gold emerged from the study.
He was pleased with the conversation, flattered by Zelena's claim that only he had the expertise to assist her with the dilemma she now faced.
"Please, there's no one else I can trust with this...you're an expert, I have full faith in your skills here..."
It was her ploy, of course, to flatter his ego and charm him into agreeing to help. They had played this game before. He would have gone along in any case, but he couldn't let her think he'd become such an easy mark that he would drop everything just to attend her.
He had his own affairs to look after.
And speaking of...
Belle looked up from the Glamour magazine she'd been skimming (an article on the benefits of organic body lotion) as Gold strode into the kitchen and paused in the doorway, hands folded over the handle of his cane.
"I have to leave for a few days, Miss French." He said plainly, before she could even greet him with a 'good morning'.
Casually dressed in a cream blouse and tight jeans, with her hair pulled up in a softly curling twist above the nape of her neck, she was the picture of comfort. Had he not agreed to help Zelena, he would have spent the day with her lounging about his newly restored living room.
Still, if she agreed to accompany him, then Gold could instead look forward to lounging about with her in a lavish suite at The Four Seasons.
Fingers crossed.
"Business?" She guessed.
Gold moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water for himself. "Yes. You're welcome to come with me, if you'd like." He invited, his manner as coy as ever.
"This is very last minute, and you're just assuming I'm free. I have a date this weekend." Belle said crisply. An obvious lie, but what was the harm in being a bit petty when he was the one flirting over the phone for nearly an hour?
"Cancel it."
There was no mistaking the sudden command in his tone.
"Jealous?" She challenged.
"No." Gold blinked, smooth again. "Call it confidant. As in, I am more than confidant that I can give you a better weekend than anyone you'll find in town."
"Oh? And why would that be?"
"My business is in Manhattan. You're coming with me."
The man said it so simply; an inarguable fact and a command she wouldn't dare refuse.
To have Belle to himself in a new setting, far from the subtle pressures of small-town gossip would be a relief they'd both enjoy. He took a sip, smug.
Belle's eyes widened in surprise at the offer. "New York City? You're serious?"
He nodded as he turned back to face her, fighting a smile to see that she was already excited. "Yes. But if you'd rather stay in Storybrooke for another weekend of Granny's burgers..."
Belle fought a smile of her own, nodding her acceptance. "I think I can move a few things around for you, Mr. Gold."
"And your date?"
She shook her head. "Oh, come on! You knew I didn't have a date."
He shot her a warning glare. "You'd better not."
A thrill ran down her back, but Belle let it go. "So, what kind of business do you have there?"
"A former...colleague of mine has come across a piece they fear might be a forgery. I have to make a trip to the Museum of Modern Art to authenticate it."
"I didn't know you did that kind of work." Belle said, impressed.
Pawnbroker, antique dealer, landlord, lawyer and now, it turned out he was also an expert in art fraud. For all Belle knew, he might be so well-versed in the field because he'd committed a few art crimes himself!
Gold only shrugged. "I don't do it often, but I'm called in on occasion if ever a doubtful piece comes across her desk. If I can identify something as fraudulent, they call the FBI."
"You work with the FBI?!" Belle gushed. "God, is there anything you can't do?"
"It's not as exciting as it sounds, it's just paperwork on my end." The man shrugged. "I've only met with one agent who leads the investigations. I don't chase the art thieves."
Belle refused to let him downplay his expertise as he always did. "Come sit down, you have to tell me about this. What was your first case? How did you know the piece was a fake and what was the FBI agent like?"
Gold didn't move to sit across from her at the table, he checked his watch instead. "Much as I'd like to, there isn't time. We need to pack."
Belle shot to her feet. "You want to leave today?"
"I want to leave in fifteen minutes."
He watched as the woman hustled out of the kitchen without a word, running past him and up the stairs.
Gold shook his head, amused by the woman's panic. He went into his room and made quick work of packing for the weekend. One suit, two sets of casual clothing, one set of lounge pants for sleeping, a hygiene kit and the appropriate shoes.
Done.
As Gold zipped his garment bag, he could hear Belle's erratic footsteps upstairs. He hadn't given her much time but he was confident in her efficiency. The woman was capable, but she'd allowed her father to use her kind heart against her, smothering her potential and self-confidence.
No more of that; she was his now, he'd see her blossom into all she could have been if not for her father dragging her down.
He moved about the house, locking the back and front doors and windows, placing his bag in the trunk of the Cadillac. Just as he came back inside, Belle was coming down the stairs with her duffel bag.
He knew she didn't have much.
The meager entirety of her wardrobe was in that bag.
I'll need to do something about that and I won't let her refuse me this time.
No.
He would earn his fee from the museum and then he and Belle would have the city to themselves. A holiday away from the petty gossips of Storybrooke. They would lose themselves in the crush of people in Manhattan.
God willing, they might finally lose themselves in each other.
Belle smiled at him, a thrill in her eyes. A hot flush had spread over her chest, throat and cheeks. He was a man who could read the signs. The woman was vibrating with excitement.
"Mr. Gold, I'm ready."
Too right, you are.
Gold offered his arm, pleased that Belle allowed him to lead her out of town and on to a new adventure.
The drive to the airport was short, the tickets already booked by Zelena's order upon his acceptance of her offer. With no checked baggage and no issues at security (other than Gold's irritation at seeing Belle being patted down by a handsome TSA agent), they were on the plane with time to spare.
"I've never flown first class before." Belle said as they sat down.
Gold had allowed her the window seat as he scrolled through the pictures Zelena had sent him of the artifact. "I don't fly out very often but when I do, it's the best option."
"The best, maybe, but not the cheapest." Belle couldn't help but remark. Last minute tickets to New York, first-class on a top luxury airline couldn't have cost anything less than $900.
Maybe not so expensive to a man of Mr. Gold's means, but the expense would have been far out of Belle's reach at such short notice.
Gold set his cell on the armrest between them, nodding. "True. I wasn't always so well off, you know."
"No?"
"No. My father served in the Scottish army, my mother stayed at home. We weren't poor, but we got on as best we could."
"They must be proud of you, all you've done."
"They died years ago." Gold informed her. "But they were proud enough when they went. I'm sure they would have something to say about my life as it's been lived since they died, though."
Belle touched his hand, she knew too much about losing parents. "I'm sorry you lost them."
Gold shook his head, distracted as the plane began to roll down the strip. "Thank you, but death is a fact of life. I've had to come to terms with that before."
Belle nodded, a thoughtful smile touching her lips. "All the more reason to enjoy life, right?"
The man nodded and rolled his hand beneath hers, lacing their fingers as the plane sped up and lifted into the sky.
"I agree. All the more reason to avoid flying coach if I can, and all the more reason to take an offer to work in the city. A change of scenery can be priceless."
"I couldn't agree more."
"I'm glad for that." Gold said, motioning to a stewardess. "Now, once we arrive I'm going to touch base with the museum. I may have to leave you at the hotel, but I'll push to have you come with me."
Belle furrowed her brows. "You want me to go with you to the museum? Why?"
She was fascinated by the man's work - her interest in it had been the touchstone of their friendship, after all - but she wasn't an art expert by any stretch of the imagination, let alone had the training or clearance to be anywhere near an art fraud investigation.
Once the plane leveled out, Gold took two flutes of mimosas from the stewardess and handed one to her. "This will be delicate work and I may need an extra pair of eyes to authenticate this piece. I only trust yours."
It was another of his compliments that made Belle feel on top of the world; Gold's trust was not easily won, and for good reason. He held fast to contracts because so many people tried to take advantage of his wealth - that he truly trusted her with assisting him in his work was no small thing.
"I'll help in any way I can."
Gold nodded cooly, masking his inner excitement. A long weekend spent with Belle, alone, without the shadow of her father's crime between them, freedom from the town's censure of their connection - there was only one thing to say: "Cheers, Miss French."
Belle lifted her glass to his in salute, and they both settled back in their seats as New York loomed before them.
They had landed in New York and the museum had sent a limousine to take them to the hotel. Belle had been thrilled at the treatment, while Gold had only been amused - this was Zelena's way of showing off to him, flexing her power with the museum's discretionary funds.
Funny woman.
As the car weaved its way through traffic, Gold was soon irritated by the stiffness in his ankle, and thankful that Belle was too distracted with the scenery passing by the window to notice. He was so happy to have her in his life, and pleased to have provided this opportunity for her. She hadn't stopped smiling since leaving Storybrooke. After that humiliating debacle with her father, it was wonderful to see her shine again.
Rolling his ankle and biting the inside of his cheek, Gold was happiest that she hadn't noticed his discomfort. He hated to appear weak before her. Belle never seemed to pity his limp, and there was no way for him to hide it, but all the same he didn't like attention called to the old injury.
Gold checked his watch. It was still early in the day, not even yet noon. He would have time to see Belle to the hotel, attend his pain and catch up with Zelena before getting on with the work that had brought him here in the first place.
As for Belle, she felt a pleasant buzz in her blood from the airline's mid-morning mimosas, and she wasn't even hungry since breakfast had only been a few hours ago.
How could she even think of food when she was here with Mr. Gold? He'd swept her off to a weekend adventure without a word of warning - a first-class seat on the airline, a ride in a limousine, a weekend in New York!
No matter what the outcome between them, Belle knew this was an event in her life she'd never forget. She felt giddy, like a little girl all over again, but she tried to restrain herself before the man. Mr. Gold was here for his work, not to entertain her.
She had to remember that.
The limo pulled to the curb and bellhops were quick to take Mr. Gold and her own bag from the car, while the man lead the way into the lobby. Belle hoped she was misreading him, but he suddenly seemed impatient, irritable.
The woman took a deep breath to calm down, for all the good it did her upon setting foot inside the most beautiful building she'd ever seen!
Gold moved through the lobby of The Four Seasons hotel, ignoring the bright and beautiful surroundings, intent to check in and get up to the room. He had a call to make and wanted to take a painkiller - his ankle had started throbbing with each step.
Once he rested it and then dealt with Zelena and her trinket, well, then he would have Belle and the city to himself.
That thought alone was enough to lift his mood.
While he spoke with the desk clerk, Belle had paused in the center of the lobby, her eyes wide as saucers as she took it all in: sparkling crystal chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceilings above; the black marble floors with gold veining below; the large fireplace in the lounge; the baroque waiting sofas and mahogany coffee tables; the hotel workers bustling about with luggage trolleys; rich women, the trophy wives and mistresses of the rich men who roamed the lobby and the massive flower arrangements in a riot of colors...it was all so much more than she'd dreamed of, and so much more than Storybrooke could ever offer.
Mr. Gold had been right.
She caught the eye of a woman crossing the lobby floor, and they immediately sized each other up the way women are wont to do; the woman was dripping with labels and diamonds winked in the light on her earlobes, at her throat, on both wrists and several fingers.
Belle looked away, worrying her bottom lip.
It was awkward to be surrounded by so much flaunted wealth, and she was made painfully aware of her bargain brand clothes. She always made an effort with her look, whether at work or when she was off-hours, but she'd never be able to afford dressing for Mr. Gold's circle. Luckily he'd never seemed to mind her lower-end fashions. His gifts of clothing and shoes hadn't really been gifts, they'd been more like the props in his power play where she took center stage.
Belle looked about again, noting what the other women were wearing.
It was silly, really, to know that some of them had probably spent her yearly salary on a clutch purse - these women might have the money, but they were clearly lacking in common sense.
Glancing over, she saw Mr. Gold limping closer with two key cards in hand.
"Mr. Gold this place is just beautiful." Belle breathed as she took the key card he offered and slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans.
He nodded, "Yes it's very nice."
"No, a Holiday Inn would have been nice, this place is gorgeous, I never thought I'd see a hotel like this outside of the movies!"
"You haven't even seen the suite yet." Gold smiled.
Belle gestured him forward, "Lead the way."
It was a quick, silent elevator ride up to one of the rooms on a higher floor - Gold would have preferred the penthouse but they were only in the city for a night or two and so had settled instead for a two-room suite. As impressed as Belle had been in the lobby, he knew she'd be thrilled with her room.
Gold opened the door and stood aside to let her pass into the suite first, subtly biting the inside of his cheek as his leg began its throbbing anew. Where were his damn pills?
Belle took in the lavish suite, from the chic furnishings to the subtle floral scent of the orchid bouquet set on the low coffee table. "This is..."
Gold shut the door behind himself and told her, "It's a suite. You can choose whichever room you prefer."
Belle bit back her flash of disappointment at that. She would rather have him hold her again. She lowered herself to sit in one of the chairs before the fireplace. "Well, we made it here. Now, what are we going to do with ourselves today?"
Knowing exactly what he'd like to do with Belle, Gold banished the thoughts and cleared his throat. "I'm going to make a call to Zelena, catch up a bit. We'll arrange a time to take an initial look at the piece today and I may be able to determine if it's a fraud right then and there. You're free to do as you like until then."
"You don't need my help?"
"Not just yet. If I can persuade the museum directors to allow you behind the scenes, then of course I want you there with me. If not, then I'll do what I can to authenticate this piece as quickly as I can. Our trip may end up being shorter than expected."
Belle smiled, hoping for the first time that he might be puzzled by the artifact's true origin so as to prolong their visit to the city. "Work slow, then. I'm in no rush to go back."
"Mmm. No, I'm sure you're not. I don't want to leave you bored, so here, in case you want to do your monthly ritual." Gold said, waggling his fingers at her with one hand and handing her a spa sheet with the other.
Belle glanced at the sheet, raising a brow that he had noticed her penchant for manicures. Every month she put a bit of money aside to treat her nails. It was a different color and finish each time, her every visit to Ariel's salon reminding her of the 'girly days' she and her mother once shared when the French family was still whole.
"Am I that obvious?"
Gold shrugged, "I have an eye for detail."
"A girl has to keep herself up, Mr. Gold." Belle told him, echoing her mother's saying from years ago. Stupid as it was, whenever Belle went for a manicure or splurged to get her hair done, she would wonder if Rose was doing the same thing in that moment, wherever she was in the world.
Gold reached for the painkillers in his pocket, reassuring himself that he hadn't left them behind at the house.
"You can do what you like and charge everything to the room."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, yes, of course." Gold's cell began to ring then, and Zelena's name flashed across the screen. "It's her. Excuse me."
Belle nodded silently as he answered the call and shuffled off to the kitchen area. By now, she had surmised that Zelena was his point of contact at the museum as well as an ex-girlfriend, and stifled her sense of jealousy when she heard Gold's light flirting - "You booked our old room at The Four Seasons, Zelena, how could I have forgotten that weekend?" - over the phone.
He brought a bottle of pills out from his jacket and popped two, following with a gulp from a bottle of water. She left the man to his business and his pleasure, eager to explore the hotel and hold onto the hope that Mr. Gold would finish soon so they might explore the city together.
"Thank you so much for coming on such short notice." Zelena greeted him as soon as Gold made his way into the museum.
They were pleased to see each other, surely, but the work came first for them both. There would be time to catch up once his initial assessment was done.
As it was, Zelena was lovely as ever. Far from Belle's mental picture of her, Zelena boasted a fresh peach complexion, striking green eyes and a mane of red hair. It was her hair that had first drawn him in, shades of auburn and gold framing her face. He noticed she'd grown it longer than it'd been the last time he'd seen her, years ago.
Today she wore a professional wrap dress in a deep shade of charcoal gray, standing taller than him in a pair of nude peep-toe stilettos.
"My pleasure, Zelena. Where's the piece?"
Zelena nodded, all business. They were the same.
"It's right through here." She said, leading the way past a few exhibits and into the areas restricted to museum personnel.
Others were there, waiting for him, but Gold wasn't interested. She had asked for his help with the piece and Belle was waiting for him to return. He would do what he had agreed to do and then return to her.
Nothing more, nothing less.
It had taken several hours.
He had become so absorbed in the work that he'd not noticed the passing of time as he and Zelena put their heads together on the piece. She was one of the most clever women he'd had the pleasure to work with, but she had been well and truly stumped before bringing him in on the assessment.
They had lost hours together in the work before finding the tell.
Zelena had not been pleased when she'd needed to make the call; this was an embarrassment, a very costly embarrassment and it would be yet another feather in the cap of the FBI's favorite art forger and con man.
"I'm sorry, Zelena. I wish this had been genuine."
Hanging up the phone, content to wait for the lead investigator, she shook her head. "So do I, but it's best that we know now rather than find out later with the forgery splashed all over the news. The board will have no choice now but to take my suggestions for increased security measures more seriously."
Gold nodded. Now the work was finished, they could catch up. "How are you? Aside from this, I mean."
She blinked, seeming to remember him, their past friendship and fleeting romance. "Oh, I'm grand." She lifted her left hand to show her engagement ring, a round cut emerald surrounded with a halo of tiny bright diamonds.
Gold smiled. They were old flames, yes, colleagues, friends, and never missed the opportunity to flirt, but underneath all that, they truly did care. "Congratulations, Zelena, when did this happen?"
Zelena moved to sit across from him, relieved somehow to tell him of her new happiness. "Thank you. He proposed just two weeks ago. We were jogging in Central Park and when we stopped for a break by a fountain, he just dropped to one knee and asked me. I was so surprised, but I said yes without even thinking about it. Things just feel...right."
"Oh, I'm happy for you. Who is he?"
"You'll laugh when I tell you." Zelena smiled. "I joined a gym-"
"Please don't tell me you fell for your spinning instructor."
"No! Well, he offered to train me and that into all of this. And before you start in, I'll have you know that he owns his own chain of gyms that are doing very well. He's opening a fourth location at the end of the year!"
"That is impressive." Gold couldn't say anything if Zelena was to marry a man of ambition. She deserved no less. "And he makes you happy?"
"Oh, so happy. He's funny, he's clever, he's fit, of course, and he can cook!" Zelena gushed. She was bragging a bit, but she was newly engaged and happy as anything.
Later, as he'd looked out over the city from The Four Seasons balcony, Gold reflected on Zelena's smile and knew he was genuinely happy for his old flame.
He'd left Zelena at the museum to speak with the FBI agent - a straight-forward man Gold had met with a few years previously in similar circumstances - and returned to the hotel to find the suite empty. He wasn't concerned. Belle would be back soon, he had made plans for them tonight.
She deserved some fun, especially this weekend.
After leaving Zelena, he'd made several arrangements. Belle would be pleased.
Gold had put more care into planning their time here than he cared to admit, telling himself that he was only treating a friend to a nice gesture. The plans were no extravagance to him, but given Belle's fractured upbringing and small circle of friends, dinner and a show could mean the world to her.
The woman was so happy for the smallest things and it pleased him to make her smile, a pure pleasure to spoil her. He heard the door open and Belle's soft call for him.
"Mr. Gold?"
"Out here."
Belle stepped through the curtains to join him and gasped, "My God, what a view!"
In her eagerness to explore the hotel and take advantage of the spa, she had completely forgotten to take in the view from their suite.
Gold nodded, "It's one of my favorites."
Belle mimicked his posture and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the balcony railing. She looked out over the expanse of Central Park, taking care not to look straight down. She wasn't afraid of heights but she didn't need the reminder that all it would take was a little push to go over and hit the pavement from over fifteen stories up.
She looked over at Gold and realized he'd changed from the navy blue suit he'd been wearing earlier that day. He now wore deep charcoal trousers with a plum shirt and silver tie. She also noticed, with no small amount of pride, that he was wearing the tie pin she'd gifted to him. Gold wasn't the only one with an eye for details.
"Why did you change?"
"We have plans for tonight. You should change as well."
Belle didn't understand. "Why? Does the client have another piece for you to look at?"
"No, that business is done with." Gold tapped the balcony railing. "Turns out it was a forgery by Neal Caffrey."
"You know who did it?"
"Yes, he's made a name for himself in forgeries and dealing in stolen art. He's very good for a young man in this game. Perhaps that explains his arrogance. He left his signature, seems he couldn't resist leaving a calling card. We almost didn't catch it."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I know you were looking forward to seeing a bit of home."
"In a way I would have liked to, but Scotland hasn't been home to me in decades. Storybrooke is home. But you and I, we're in the city now, so let's enjoy it. Starting with dinner." Gold invited.
Belle hesitated, worrying her bottom lip as she mentally ran through her luggage and found herself limited to her slacks, jeans and plain tops - hardly worthy of New York's night life.
"I didn't bring anything nicer than this to wear." She told him, gesturing to her outfit. Mr. Gold's suit would get him anywhere, but their options were limited if he wanted to go to one of those New York restaurants that had dress codes like in the movies.
"All you need for tonight is in your room."
Belle raised her brow. "You bought me clothes?"
"I might have had a few things sent over." He said noncommittally.
Really, the man had no idea what he'd bought her. He'd only made a call to a boutique at Zelena's suggestion. After telling of her fiancé, she had been happy to learn that Gold had brought his own special someone with him to the city.
He had given them Belle's coloring, her height and his best guess at her sizes. The woman he'd spoken to over the phone had reassured him that they would take care of everything. It was the rare instance where he'd made a blind purchase, but he had faith in the boutique. For the cost of the package, they had better have come through on their end.
"This is all very Pretty Woman." Belle said as she moved away from the balcony, excited to see what he'd had delivered.
"I'm not sure I like that comparison." He called after her as she slipped into her room.
Belle would have called back some smart remark had she not been so keen to see what she was to wear that night. Though not being crazed for labels (how could she, with her bank balance?), Belle liked to dress up as much as any woman did when given the opportunity.
Gold had only ever seen her in her simple work clothes, his pajama shirt and, regrettably, Ruby's painted-on scrap of a dress. Belle was excited for this chance to dress up, and eager for Mr. Gold's compliments. That man had a way with words that could lift her spirit like no other.
Belle was quick in sorting it all, from the dark sapphire silk dress and black stilettos to the lace undergarments that had her wondering if the boutique had sent them along or if Gold had specifically requested them. It was arousing to think that he would know exactly what she wore beneath the dress, beautiful lace and silk chosen just for her.
She put it all on, smoking her eyes, delighted to see how luminous they appeared.
She came out of her room just as Gold was straightening his tie in the mirror above the fireplace mantle, having put on his suit jacket. He looked at her, his eyes going dark in that way that she recognized and adored.
He said nothing, but moved forward. Belle stood still as he neared and turned a slow circle around her, his assessing presence tightening her skin, a shiver running down her back.
"Something's missing."
That was not the response she'd been after. "No, I went through all the bags. This is everything."
He shook his head, reaching to lightly tug on a curling lock of her hair. "Could you wear your hair up for tonight?"
After all he'd given her, Belle would do anything he asked. Pinning her hair up was nothing. "Of course."
"Then you'll need this."
Gold reached into his breast pocket, withdrawing a slim black box. Belle opened it to find a golden hair comb in the shape of an elegant laurel, tiny diamonds and midnight sapphires studding the edges of its leaves. "I...Mr. Gold, I can't-"
"You can. It's yours. Please, Belle."
That he'd used her name was enough to convey his earnest meaning to her, and Belle accepted this, his grandest gift without anymore fuss. Belle twisted her hair into an elegant chignon, and Gold watched as she slipped the jeweled comb into the mass.
"Perfect." Gold offered his arm, and Belle was too glad to take it.
Belle enjoyed being on Mr. Gold's arm as they left the hotel, the assumptions she knew people were drawing about them - that they were lovers about to have a night on the town. It was a half-truth she hoped to make whole by night's end.
Zelena had authorized the free use of the limousine for the weekend, so thankfully Gold only had to make a call and the car was ready rather than having to flag down a taxi. Quickly, he gave the driver the address of a restaurant where he wished to take Belle for dinner.
Gold guided her inside and they were immediately shown to a table, greeted by other guests as they moved.
"They all know you, do you own this place?" Belle asked once they were seated and given menus. He owned restaurants in Storybrooke, it was natural to assume his business interests extended to New York.
Gold shook his head, "No, I just know the owner."
That much was true; he did not own the restaurant but for all intents and purposes he did own the owner through a series of contracts and debts that Gold had meted out through the years. Jerome Walton had always made his payments on time, sometimes even early, as he knew all too well that Gold would not hesitate to collect what he was owed through force.
"Why were they looking, then? Everyone seemed to recognize you."
Gold smirked and tasted his drink, compliments of the owner. "Don't play coy with me tonight. They were looking at you, Miss French. I usually come in alone."
"You've been alone for a long time." She stated. It wasn't a pitying or judgemental comment, Belle was only stating the truth.
"Yes, until recently."
Belle smiled, and grazed her foot against Gold's inner calf under the table.
It was hours later, and Belle felt as though she had been pulled through a whirlwind, a storm of New York coupled with Mr. Gold. Their dinner had been a delicious affair, made all the better when Gold had introduced her to the restaurant's owner and he'd made no effort to correct the man's assumption that she and Gold were together.
Gold had left his stoic manners behind in Storybrooke; more than just the small touches to her hand and the small of her back, Belle found herself flushing hotly as his hand found its way to the dip of her waist as they walked, or his fingertips would graze the length of her bare arm leaving gooseflesh in its wake, and perhaps best of all, there was the brightness of his eyes each time he met her gaze as the night went on.
The restaurant had been wonderful, from her meal and drink right down to the special creme brûlée that Mr. Gold had ordered for them to share. Belle had forgotten the dessert since their first day in Sunshire. As then, they'd relished the crunch of the caramel shell and the sweet custard underneath.
Following dinner, Gold had had the limousine take a leisurely route through the city to show Belle a few sights: Wall Street, the Empire State Building, Times Square. Their suite at the hotel overlooked Central Park, and Gold wanted to take her through it the next day, maybe sketch her picture at one of the fountains or on a bridge if she would allow it. Certainly he wanted to take her to 5th Avenue; Belle had refused his gifts in Storybrooke, but he wouldn't allow her to be so stubborn as to refuse a gift to mark their trip to the city.
Their first trip of many, he hoped.
And then, just as they had reached the end of their tour and Belle had naturally assumed their night was over, Gold had directed the limousine to Broadway.
Tickets to The Phantom of the Opera were waiting for them.
Gold usually wasn't one for musicals or plays, but tonight, for Belle...
Hours later, the pair had made their way back to the hotel. A bit tired, relieved to be alone after spending so long in the crush of the crowd. It had been liberating, however, to simply be together, to enjoy each other without looks of censure or malicious gossip following them everywhere.
Here, they were just a man and a woman. Together for a night.
On entering the hotel, giggling like idiots over some joke he'd told her in the elevator, Belle had slipped into the room she'd claimed to remove the stilettos she'd bravely worn all night - the slight pinching of her toes aside, the night had been perfect.
She came back out to the center living room of the suite. Mr. Gold had left his jacket on the sofa and gone out to the balcony. Belle didn't think twice about joining him there.
On finding him, she'd also found that he had ordered a bottle of champagne to the room. It was there on the balcony table, chilling in a bucket of ice, waiting for them.
"You think of everything, Mr. Gold." Belle said, feeling light and giddy.
Gold shrugged as he popped the cork and poured them each a glass. "A man tries, Miss French. To New York."
"To tonight."
Belle clinked her glass to his, keeping her eyes locked with his gaze. A thrill rushed through her to see his eyes were as hot as her own.
Belle sipped at her champagne, turning to her friend as he poured a third glass for himself. She was still on her second. They had talked, laughed at small things through a fizzing haze of arousal and giddiness. The freedom here was an addiction; Belle had touched him freely, being more open than she ever had in Storybrooke, even when they'd been alone. Gold was a changed man as well, she'd never seen him so...so playful! Perhaps it all was due to the champagne, but Belle was too happy to care.
They enjoyed their drinks with Manhattan laid out before them.
After a natural lull in their conversation, the man had started humming Prima Donna and Belle was enjoying his voice. She had never heard him hum. If Gold so chose, he could impress Belle with his singing voice though he hadn't sang since...oh, who remembered?
He was content with the champagne fizzing through his blood.
And Belle.
Hadn't he always thought of her as champagne come to life? So bubbly and bright and sweet. Such a woman, and his his his!
He glanced over when he felt her give a light tug to the gold garter band on his sleeve. Belle liked him better this way; still in keeping with his more formal style, but less closed off, more open and relaxed. She knew no one in Storybrooke would recognize him like this.
"Mr. Gold, this trip has been...there are no words." She had tried to find the right words to express her gratitude, but amazing, lovely and terrific couldn't do it justice.
"You've had a nice time?" He asked as he replaced the bottle in the ice bucket.
"You already know the answer to that question." She said, nudging him in the ribs once he'd retaken his place beside her on the balcony.
New York stretched out before them, ever awake.
"I know, but I still want to hear it." He told her, that playful hint in his voice as he nudged her in return.
Belle didn't begrudge him the words, it was the complete truth. "This has been the most wonderful day I've ever had. It's been pure magic."
"A good birthday, then."
She blinked in surprise. "You knew?"
"Yes. Thirty is a landmark year, I thought you should celebrate it in style. I recalled the date from your citizen petition on reopening the library." He said easily. Little did Belle know that her birthday weekend had only just started.
"That feels like so long ago now."
"It's been just over a year." Gold mused. It didn't feel as if so long a time had passed since the reopening, but he couldn't deny the calendar.
"You're right, we're only a month or two past our anniversary." Belle agreed, nudging him again.
"That's true, we've had a-" Gold stopped himself when there was a knock at the door.
He stepped away from Belle for a few moments to deal with room service, returning to her on the balcony. He'd almost forgotten about this last surprise of the night, small as it was. "I called in a delivery for you, Miss French."
He brought the plain take-away box out from behind his back, and presented it to Belle. "Happy birthday."
Belle opened the little box to find a cupcake, a perfectly simple lemon cupcake from the famous Magnolia Bakery.
She stared at it, speechless.
Gold watched, confused as to why she'd frozen and hadn't said anything. "Miss French?"
He touched her arm and Belle looked up, surprising him with her eyes overflown with tears. Without a word, Belle stepped in close to the man and pressed her lips to his. This was not a fleeting peck of a kiss; Belle molded her lips to his, her fingertips lifting to rest softly just against his jaw. Later in the night he would swear he could still feel the imprint of where she'd touched him.
He moulded his lips to meet hers, his eyes slipping closed. Her hand on his jaw was hot, her soft lips much hotter, sweeter.
The kiss was over too soon; before he could lift a hand to her waist or fully pull her into his arms, Belle eased back from the man, opening her eyes to look at him, her expression open with thanks and love. "I'm...good night, Mr. Gold."
Gold inclined his head as she turned in retreat to her room, "Good night, Miss French."