After spending the rest of his Saturday afternoon at the shop, organising things to be shipped out to clients and prepping things for Monday, Rumald pulled his Cadillac into his driveway and let out a small moan of relief at being finally home. As he opened his door and stepped one foot out of the car, Rumald grabbed the bag of Grannies food from the seat beside him and heaved himself out of the car. A twinge from his groin reminded him of his earlier encounter with Gaston. His blood boiled at the thought of Gaston. By a short thread, Rumald was stopping himself from hunting down the Critten to return the favour. However, if he did, it would go against everything he had been scheming all afternoon.
He climbed the stairs to his porch, pulling his keys out of his pocket to open his front door. Once inside, Rumald flicked on the lights and placed his food down onto the small table by the front door. 'Idiot', he cursed himself as he removed his overcoat to hang on the coat stand, sat on the opposite side of the doorway from the small table. He collected his bag of food and ambled into the living room to deliver it to the coffee table, continuing on to the drinks cabinet on the other side of the room. Rumald poured himself a whiskey and sat down onto the edge of the couch, so he could reach the coffee table. He turned on the television via the remote and opened his bag from Grannies to delve inside, looking up to see the local news on the television.
"The Convent of the Sisters of Saint Meissa is going to be holding a charity fun fare on the 27th of this month, next Saturday." The news reporter said. "They're hoping to raise enough funds to pay for the repairs to the Convent's roof and any extra money, will be going to the local orphanage."
Rumald rolled his eyes as he unwrapped the paper from around his burger. The sisters had been trying for months to get Rumald to repair the roof of the Convent. They had a hard time understanding that it was completely their own fault. They had planted the tree, had not maintained said tree and in the last storm, the tree had fallen damaging the roof of the east wing. Hence, why it was their own fault and not his problem. They should be talking to their God as he was partly to blame, not making it the town's problem.
Changing the channel, Rumald took a bite out of his burger, while he fished inside of the takeout bag to find his potion of fries. Normally, he did not indulge himself in too much takeout from Grannies. Coming home to cook a meal for himself, like he did every night, was far from being on Rumald's mind. After the incident with Gaston, Rumald was quite happy to comfort himself with food from Grannies, washed down with plenty of whiskey. He took a bite from his burger, gazing up to the television to watch Law and Order.
The front doorbell rang. Raising his eyebrow at the sound, Rumald turned his head in the direction of his front door, wondering who could possibly be brave enough to disturb him at home. No one, ever, came to his house. Even Dove knew to stay away, when Rumald was at home, knowing his employer would skin him alive for disturbing his solitude. The doorbell rang again. Rumald picked up a couple of fries and popped them into his mouth, as he placed his burger down onto the burger wrapper. He stood taking his glass of whiskey from the table to go to the front door, swearing under his breath that they had better have a good excuse for ringing his doorbell.
Rumald opened the front door a crack at first and then opened it wider, seeing Belle stood on his porch. "Miss French?"
"Mr Gold," She greeted taking a step towards the threshold. "I'm so sorry. I just heard what Gaston did to you. I can't believe it! I am so sorry!"
Scrunching his brow down over his eyes, Rumald did not know whether he wanted to slap her first or kiss her, as she carried on apologising for her stupid fiancé. He thought he had made it quite clear to her, especially when she had caught herself the other day, that he did not want her apologising for that buffoon.
Belle begged him profusely to accept her apology, while he stood silently taking in the sight of her. His gaze wandered down her attire, suspecting she was dressed ready for a night out in a tightly fitting silver sequin dress. The left corner of his lips turned up into half a smile, smug that his imagination had been right about her. Mind blown, Rumald stood helpless as his gaze travelled down her legs to the six-inch heels she was wearing, which brought her near enough head height with him. As his gaze roamed back up her body, taking his time, Rumald sipped from his whiskey. The beast inside of him, wanted him to drag her inside and throw her down into the basement, and lock her away for his own personal amusement.
"Mr Gold, you have every right to press charges against him and I will totally understand." She carried on, unaware where Rumald's thoughts were taking him and an imagery Belle.
"Charges?" Rumald asked confused for a moment and then quickly realised what she had said. "Oh, no!" She was the picture of bewilderment. "I don't know what you've heard, but it was complete accident."
Belle stood on his porch, staring at him. "An accident?"
"Yeah, he didn't realise how close he was to my car door and apologised immediately afterwards." Rumald felt dirty as lying to her.
He told many lies in his lifetime, to family and clients, but this was the first time Rumald felt dirty. Belle was so pure of heart and he… loved that about her. She was still innocent to the dark side of the world, which was probably why she was open to listening to his lie.
"Really?" Belle did not sound quite convinced, though her voice gave away that she hoped his lie was true.
"Indeed." Rumald showed her a reassuring smile.
Her brow hinted that there was a small knot of disbelief still within her. Leaning up against the front door, his left hand placed near the top of the door, whilst he watched her mull through the truth and his lie, trying her best to match them. Rumald should have known better before he had let the lie pass his lips. She was far from stupid and he really liked that about her. Pressing his lips into a tight line, Rumald recognised it was going to take some work to get her to accept his lie.
Waving his hand to welcome her inside, something he normally would not do, and said. "I can easily explain this."
"I'm…" Belle glanced distantly over her shoulder. "I'm meeting the girls."
"It won't take long." He opened the door wider and stepped back with the door, opening up his house to her.
Hesitant, Belle stepped bravely over the threshold and came into the house, her eyes on Rumald. The scent of her perfume was the strongest he had smelt it. While she turned her head away from him, her intrigue driving her to look around his house, Rumald dared to lean closer to her and breathed in the smell of her perfume. It was sweet and delicious, tempting him to eat her where she stood.
"Maybe you can explain then, why Gaston was on that side of town?" She asked him as she pivoted round to face him.
"I'm not sure, why he was there." Rumald closed the front door and walked by her into the living room, leaving her to follow him, drawing her further into his house. "I was over there on business myself. He was walking down the street as I returned to my car."
He knew how to lie well. The trick to lying was to mix in small amounts of the truth, which helped to make it sound more realistic. Then, if she was asked any further questions to anyone else, they would verify Rumald's side of the story. The fact he was retaining a rather large piece of the truth, would only be found out, if Gaston was to spout the truth himself and he was not going to be so eager to do that. Especially, given the fact, he had threatened Rumald to keep quiet.
Her heels clicked on his polished wooden floors, telling Rumald she was coming into the living room, while he topped up his whiskey glass. "So, how did he end up hitting you with the car door?"
"Accidentally hit me." Rumald corrected her, moving from the drinks cabinet to retake his seat on the couch, his food left to go cold on the coffee table. "We were talking and he went to walk by me, when his knee hit the door. Just a simple accident."
"A simple accident that people are saying, sent you down onto your knees." Belle informed him, holding her clutch purse between her hands, almost protecting herself with it.
"I will admit. It did come as a sharp surprise, like it would for any man." His face twisted, remembering the pain very clearly and added. "I wouldn't believe everything from the Storybrooke grapevine, dearie. If you do, you'll be believing I kidnap and eat children at Halloween."
She let out a small chuckle. "Yes, I've heard a few things about you."
Relaxing back into his couch, Rumald crossed his left leg over his right and took a generous drink from his whiskey, eyeing her over the rim of his glass. So… Not only had she been researching him online, but she was also listening to the town talk about him. With many of the things that were whispered about him, most young women would be avoiding him like a plague, yet she seemed more fascinated by him.
He placed the glass onto the seat beside him. "Why don't you sit down and tell me, what you've heard about me?"
"I can't." She looked to the front door. "I'm meeting the girls."
"Yes, you said that." He said titling his head to the side, regarding her.
Rumald waited, letting her decide for herself, testing her to see if his notion about her was true. Visibly, Belle appeared nervous, dividing her attention between him and the front door. A minute or two went by before Belle twisted to look at the nearest armchair and edged her way over to it, carefully sitting down into it with watchful eye on Rumald. He raised his glass to his lips and drank from it, hiding his knowing smirk.
"Leroy was telling me, you didn't divorce your first wife," She began to tell him. "You murdered her."
Rumald's eyebrows rose up his forehead, whilst he quickly swallowed his drink, holding her gaze. "Murdered her?"
"He said, she disappeared one night and no one has seen her since." Belle told him with her fingers, playing with the clip of her clutch purse.
"I've contemplated killing her, many times, but as yet, I haven't." He was completely honest with her.
"So… Where is she then?" She inquired, while her eyes went to the photographs littering the room.
Rumald was stumped by her question. "I have no idea. I don't deal with her these days. My son would have a better idea where she is. Though, I would guess she's on a yacht somewhere with the man she ran off with."
Looking shocked, Belle snapped her gaze back to Rumald, saying. "I'm sorry. I didn't know she left you."
"Why would you?" He threw a rhetorical question at her. "I don't pass out that kind of information to be shared around as idle gossip. And I would appreciate, if you kept it to yourself." Rumald's tone became serious with his last sentence.
"I wouldn't dream of it." She told him and he believed her.
Picking a non-existent piece of lint off his pant leg, Rumald pushed the conversation on. "What else, do they say about me?"
"I'm sure, you can imagine what they say about you." Belle was reluctant to continue, her gaze dropped from him to her clutch purse.
"Let me see…" He knew exactly what the town said about him. "I'm the most powerful man in town and I got my power by being ruthless. If people cross me, they end up getting hurt. Town monster. A beast." He waved a hand aimlessly through the air. "I think that's most of it."
"Near enough." She agreed with him.
"It's all true." Rumald said and sipped from his whiskey.
A flash of astonishment swept over her face. "Really?"
"I wouldn't lie to you, Miss French." Adding in his head, 'again'. "I'm not going to deny that side of myself. It's whether, someone is willing accept, there's more than one side to a person." Rumald let a bit of hopefulness slip into his voice.
"Never judge a book by its cover." Belle's voice was confident as she spoke and added a side note. "My mother used to tell me that."
Rumald smiled hearing her speak about her mother. "Very wise words."
"I didn't know, you had a son." She shared with him, sheepishly looking at him.
"Neal." His smile grew as he thought about his son. "His name is Neal."
Belle moved her eyes around the room as though she would find his son hidden in the room. "Where is he?"
"He works in Boston." Rumald shared with her, while an uneasy feeling developed in his gut.
"What does he do?" She asked him.
"He's an architect." He said matter-of-factly to her, pondering over why it was so easy to talk to her.
Though, Rumald was feeling apprehensive about sharing these private details with her, he also felt he could tell her his darkest secrets without fearing a rebuttal from her. He had never felt that with anyone before. Not even with his son. He could never share them with him, constantly fearing his son would disown him again, if he put a step out of place. It had taken a long time for Rumald to earn his son's forgiveness and be on talking terms with his son. What they had now, was so much more than Rumald had ever hoped to have with his son. Because of that, there were a lot of things he refused to share with his son, scared he would drive him away again.
Belle smiled at him, quelling his anxiousness. "That's impressive."
"He's worked very hard and he's done it all by himself." Rumald said proudly, grinning at his son's accomplishments. "He's an extraordinary young man."
"Just like his father then." She paid him a compliment.
One side of Rumald's smile curled higher at her praise. Her cheeks blushing red told Rumald all he needed to know: she had not thought about what she was said. Her right hand came up to touch her face as she shamefully dropped her gaze down onto the floor, avoiding any form of contact with him. Rumald raised his glass to his lips and knocked back the remains of his glass.
"Shit!" Belle abruptly jumped up from her seat. "I'm going to be late!"
"Yes, your girls' night." He said knowingly, well aware she was going to be late.
"I got to go!" She made a start towards the front door and Rumald quickly followed, discarding his empty glass to the coffee table.
He caught up with her at the front door as Belle opened the door and dashed out onto the porch. Reaching out for her, Rumald caught her by her forearm and jolted her back round to face. Her momentum brought her closer than Rumald had been expecting, but he did not let that bother him, if anything he was grateful for it. She lifted her gaze to meet his own, their warm breaths washing over one another. It was the closest they had been to one another. Rumald let his eyes flick down to her lips, wanting to place his lips against hers, positive they would be as soft as he had imagined.
"I just wanted to remind you." His lips stayed parted, the urge to kiss her intensifying the longer they stayed close to one another.
"What?" She uttered, her eyes dipping to his lips and back to his eyes.
Rumald stroked his thumb over her forearm as he said. "I'll see you on Tuesday."
"Tuesday." Belle repeated almost breathless.
"Goodnight, Belle." He did it on purpose, dropping her surname for her forename.
The power of his words were obvious with her eyes flashing wide. He let the sentiment sink in as he let go of her arm, remaining close to her. Even with the coolness of the night wrapping around them, Rumald could feel the heat radiate from her, drawing him to take comfort from her. With every fibre of his being, he wanted to lure her back into his house and into his bed. Except, the one promise he had made to himself, refusing to corrupt her, remained on the table. The decision had to be hers, but that did not mean Rumald was not going to do everything in power to take her from Gaston.
"Goodnight." She slowly backed away from him, her eyes fixed on him, and only turned away from him when she reached the top step of his porch.
After she descended the stairs, Belle glanced back at him over her shoulder and gradually walked to the sidewalk, where her car was parked by the kerb. She appeared to be reluctant to leave as she ambled around the front of her car to get into it. Her car started and sat by the kerb with her gaze on him in the doorway of his house. Rumald shouldered his weight up against the doorframe, feeling lost without her presence. Belle pulled away from the kerb and headed back into town, fleetingly glimpsing back at him as she drove away. Retreating back into his house after her car was gone, Rumald smiled wickedly to himself, sure he was going to enjoy every moment of his scheme.