Pouring himself another whiskey while he sat at his workbench, his ledgers opened on top of the bench with his laptop close by, Rumald tried his best to stifle a yawn after his busy day. His day had started at the crack of dawn, needing to be in Portland before eight o'clock. Most of his morning had been spent sat in a stuffy auction house, bored with the different lots coming up for sale, bidding and winning on a few of them. More things for his collection and some for his clients. During his lunch with a business associate, Rumald had let his mind wander back to Storybrooke, wondering what she had been doing with her morning, was she at lunch too, did she have plans for her evening. On his way back to Storybrooke, he had viewed some properties and bought two out of the seven that were shown to him. While he had been viewing the houses, led round by the seller, his mind had been on Belle, envisioning her in every room of the houses he viewed. He had gotten back to Storybrooke a little after six, leaving him no chance to see her before the library closed.
He was drinking from his whiskey, reading down the list of inventory on his laptop, when his cell phone began to ring. His suit jacket hung on the coat stand with his overcoat. Letting out a small groan at having to move, Rumald hopped off his stool and strode the three short steps to his suit jacket and pulled his cell phone out from the inside pocket. He answered it as he returned back to his stool at the workbench.
"Gold." He said without looking at the caller id.
"Evening, sir." Dove greeted. "I've taken care of it."
"Good and they know to keep it to themselves?" He inquired as he flicked back a couple of pages in one of his ledgers.
"They won't be telling Miss French about it." Dove reassured him.
Rumald eyed something in his ledger. "You're sure, they won't talk?"
"They seemed to be quite persuaded after I threatened their ability to walk and offered them the money." Dove sounded pleased with himself.
"Did you take care of the other bit of business?" Rumald asked, typing some figures into his laptop.
"Not quite yet." Dove told him. "I'm working on it. He's being stubborn."
Rumald was slightly disappointed with Dove, he had expected Dove to have dealt with the surveyor already. "Get it done."
"Yes, sir." Dove responded immediately and ended the call.
Rumald slipped his phone into his pants pocket and leant his weight onto the workbench with his elbow, angling himself forward to read one of the other ledgers. Though he was concentrating on the books in front of him, easily checking things between the figures on his laptop, Rumald was thinking of Belle and where she had touched him the previous night. Even then, twenty-four hours later, Rumald could still feel the trace of her fingers on his face.
Reaching to the keyboard of his laptop, his hand stilled as his thoughts of Belle took over his mind. It was preposterous, the effect she was having on him. If he had been a teenager, Rumald could have put it down to hormones and to the vivid imagination of a teenage boy. He was turning fifty next year, making the whole thing ridiculous. Could he argue it was love at first sight? Maybe… However, that sort of thing would never happen to him. Love at first sight was saved for people with good souls, who also believed in that sort of thing. Not for a man, who would quite happily break someone's legs over a deal gone sour. Things like that, good things, never happened to Rumald. He knew deep in his heart that Belle was too good for him.
His ears pricked at hearing a very dull dingle and knock from the front of the shop. Stilling the thoughts in his mind and slowing his breath, Rumald listened out for the sounds again. Another dull dingle and knock came from the front of the shop. Curious, he got up from his stool and crossed to the curtained doorway, and swept back the curtain to look through into his shop. The shop was perfectly still, nothing astray, as he moved his gaze around the room. He was about to head into the backroom, when there was a knock at the front door of his shop, which caused the bell on the door to let out a dull dingle. He entered the front of the shop and waltzed by the counters to the front door, pulling back the blind on the door to see Belle on the other side of the door.
He let go of the blind, confused at finding her on the other side of the door. It must have been his mind playing tricks on him. There was no way she would be at his shop, knocking on his door, not at this hour. He checked his watch to see it was after eight o'clock as she knocked on the door again, making the bell dingle above his head.
Shaking his head, Rumald unbolted and unlocked the door, and opened it enough to stick his head around the edge of the door. "Miss French?"
"I've been knocking a while, is everything alright?" She asked, the concern evident on her face.
"Yes…" He said suspiciously.
"I tried to come by earlier, but you weren't here." Belle told him, gesturing towards the shop with her hands. "I was heading home from Grannies, when I saw your car parked at the side of your shop."
Rumald opened the door wider to reveal himself, asking her. "Was there something you needed?"
"When?" She asked with a small scowl.
"When you came by earlier." He informed her, slightly amused by her lack of memory.
"Earlier… Oh, yes." Belle let out a small chuckle. "I wanted to talk to you about last night at the dance studio."
"What about last night?" Rumald queried, not sure what exactly they needed to discuss.
An embarrassed look came over her face as she answered his question. "I just wanted to apologise for Gaston and I arguing in front of you again."
"I've told you not to apologise to me, especially on his behalf." Rumald's voice was thick with his annoyance with her.
"I know you've told me that, but I really feel ashamed about arguing in front of you." She said being honest with him.
These days, it was hard for Rumald, not to suspect everyone was lying to him and had a hidden agenda. He could hear she was telling him the truth, though as he looked at her, he could not ignore the feeling swelling in his gut. The fact Belle was here at this hour made Rumald think there was more to her being at his shop than to apologise.
"Couples argue, Miss French, I've told you this." He reminded her angling his head, trying to see her from another angle and maybe see what she was hiding from him.
Belle rolled her eyes at him. "Look," She aimed her eyes at him, looking directly into his eyes. "I'm allowed to say I'm sorry to whoever the hell I like. Stupidly, I just wanted to apologise to you, because I didn't want you to think bad of me."
'She cares what I think?', he inwardly questioned himself, while the hint of a smile tugged at the left side of his mouth.
"Why have you got such a problem with me apologising to you anyway?" She threw her question at him, shoving her hands onto her hips, ready for a fight.
Rumald took a moment to regard her, loving her fiery spirit, and said. "Apologising is weakness."
"No, it's not." She looked baffled by his answer. "It takes a strong person to admit when they're wrong and apologise."
"I don't see your fiancé doing much of that." He said coolly.
"I'm not here to talk about him." Belle swatted the mention of Gaston away like an annoying fly and said. "Look, I've apologised and that's all I wanted to do. I'll see you tomorrow." And she turned away from him, heading in the direction of the library.
Rumald scrunched his brow in thought, knowing she had not collected her car from the mechanic. "How're you getting home?"
"I'm walking." She threw back at him over her shoulder, stepping down off the kerb.
"Wait…" Rumald followed her, coming out of his shop. "Why don't you let me drive you home?"
"What?" She turned partially round to see him.
Shrugging his shoulders at her, he suggested. "Give me ten minutes and I'll take you home."
"I couldn't impose on you." Belle told him as she started to cross the street again.
"Honestly," He called after her, making her twist to see him stood on the edge of the kerb. "It wouldn't be any bother. I was leaving soon myself."
Inwardly, he cheered at his little white lie as she walked back to his side of the road. "As long as you're sure."
"I haven't been more sure of anything in my life, Miss French." Rumald said, hating how corny he sounded.
"O…kay." Belle gave him a puzzled look and he could not have agreed more, he hated how much he sounded like a Hallmark movie.
"Come on. Ten minutes at most." He motioned for her to follow him and headed back into his shop, and opened the door wider for her, beckoning her into his shop.
She followed and gave him a short smile as she crossed the threshold into his shop. Once she was inside, Rumald shut the door and relocked it, and slid across the two deadbolts on the door. Belle stood aimlessly in the middle of his shop, masked in the darkness and highlighted by the light crawling in under the curtained doorway. Placing a gentle hand on her elbow, she glanced up at his face, while he led her to the curtained doorway and moved the curtain aside for her. Belle presided him into the back room and he followed her into the room to walk by her to go to his workbench.
"Did I disturb you from working?" She asked, slowly coming over to his workbench.
"Not at all." He showed her a smile as he saved his work on the laptop and shut it down.
Belle's eyes looked over the ledgers on the workbench. "It looks like you were working."
"It's time I went home anyway." Rumald left his workbench to collect his suit jacket. "I've been up since six. I should go home and have an early night."
"I don't mind walking home." She insisted turning to observe him as he adjusted his overcoat.
"I mind you walking home." He voiced to her, unashamed of his honesty.
"At least someone does." Belle mumbled, more to herself than to Rumald, letting her eyes wander around the things in the back room of his shop.
His keys jangle as he collected them from his workbench, standing close to Belle as he said. "You'd always be high priority to me."
Her eyebrows were high up her forehead as Belle brought her gaze back to Rumald, angling her head to look up at him. He let her see the truth in his face. Rumald would never treat her the way Gaston treated her. He would not be running around behind her back with another woman. He would answer every one of her calls, no matter whether it was convenient or not. These were part of the reason, why Gaston did not deserve to have her in his life.
Standing there with her in front of him, Rumald was tempted to reach his hand up to touch her face, to caress the back of his fingers over her cheek. He knew, if they did not leave his shop soon and put some space between them, he would probably give into his temptation.
"Come on then." He said to her, but he was saying it more to himself.
Reluctantly, Rumald moved away from her and went over to the back door of his shop. He blew out a breath, trying to still his need for her, as Rumald opened the back door and held it open for her. She gave him a gracious smile passing by him to leave through the door. Smelling her perfume as Belle left the shop, Rumald wanted to drag her back into his shop and steal a kiss from her. If he had not promised not to corrupt her, he would have done it much like he had with Cora, which was why he wanted to keep this promise. Naively, Rumald thought if he did things differently, then hopefully things should hopefully be different.
"Starting to get chilly." She said as Rumald came out of his shop, flicking off the lights inside and closing the door behind him.
"And you wanted to walk home." Rumald countered, locking the door.
Belle shrugged her shoulders at his comment to say. "I didn't really have much choice."
"You do now." He informed her, waving his hand for her to lead the way towards his car.
"Do you often work late?" She probed, changing the subject, as they walked the short distance to his car.
The question threw him for a second, not used to people being interested in him, and he glimpsed at her face before he replied. "Some nights."
They parted at the rear of the car, both in time with one another as they reached their respected car doors at the same time. Rumald opened his car door and Belle looked surprised as he ducked down into his car. He had never felt a need to lock his car. Not many people in Storybrooke were brave enough or stupid enough to steal his car, knowing the repercussions would be more severe than whatever the Sheriff would deal out.
She climbed into the car, closing her door, asking. "No one at home waiting?"
After sliding the key into the ignition, Rumald stilled his hand from turning the key, angling his head to look at her beside him. The look on her face was very expecting. His heart thudded in his chest, not sure whether he should allow his sliver of hope to grow.
"No." His voice was small, when he uttered the one-word answer.
He saw a mixture of pity and delight flash over her face at his answer. Still, even with his heart beating loudly against his ribs, Rumald was torn between believing his own eyes or listening to the fear whispering into his ear, reminding him that Belle was too good for him. But Rumald could not help wanting her, she was the light and he was the moth driven mad by her brightness.
"That must get lonely." Belle commented to him, bringing him out of his reverie.
"Ah…" He directed his gaze away from her, focusing on anything else but her. "I'm not so lonely these days, but you become accustom to being on your own."
She placed her hand on his forearm, snapping his attention to where she had touched his arm, as she said. "Do you not get to see your son much?"
"We talk on the phone and we try to visit each other when we can." Rumald shared with her, following her arm up to her shoulder and then up to her face.
"I hope you'll consider me a friend after we finish our lessons." Belle smiled at him and squeezed his forearm.
He visibly swallowed at her kind offer of friendship and smiled at her. "I would like that."
Her hand stayed on his forearm, burning his skin through his layers of clothing. Rumald felt himself being pulled towards her, enticed to lean over the front seat and place a candid kiss on her lips. He was drawn to gathering her up into his arms, burying his face into her neck as he lavished himself with the smell of her perfume. He wanted to lose himself to her, kissing and caressing every part of her, uncaring who saw them. With his need for her growing, Rumald's heart ached to be released from his chest.
"I better get you home." Rumald instructed himself as he started the car and tore his gaze away from her.
Her hand receded from his arm, dampening the fire that stoked his need. Breathing in and out, using the rhythm to calm the beast inside of him, Rumald pulled out from the alleyway beside his shop and onto the quiet street. He tried to keep his thoughts to himself and his concentration on the road, trying not to pay any attention to Belle beside him. They settled into a comfortable silence, however Rumald could feel there was something between them. He could not go more than a couple of seconds before his mind wandered across the front seat of the car. During one moment of wandering, Rumald imagined driving them to his house and summoning her into his home. She would follow him, unable to keep her hands off him, needing to touch him. They would be inseparable once they were through his front door, safe from the world, while they embraced each other. Holding her, he would vow never to let her go, desperate to hold onto her until his dying breath. She would promise to be always his, sealing her promise with a magical kiss.
"This is my turning!" Belle declared suddenly, disrupting Rumald's fantasy.
Rumald braked hard and turned into her street, glancing at her to show her a small embarrassed smile. Holding back a giggle, Belle slowly shook her head at him, her smile giving away her amusement. He saw the house Gaston had rented from him approaching and slowed to pull up at the end of the drive.
Her gaze went up to the house before she looked to Rumald. "Thank you for the ride home."
"It was my pleasure, Miss French." He genuinely smiled at her.
Swiftly, Belle edged closer to him and leaned into him to place a soft, sweet kiss onto his cheek. His eyes went wide and when she had pulled slightly away from him, he snapped his gaze to meet her eyes. Rumald could feel the warmth of her breath wash over him as he studied her face, eager to see some sort of a sign that she wanted him to kiss her as much as he did. The smile she had been smiling at him, slowly left her lips, leaving her face emotionless. Something edged him to angle himself towards her, closing the gap between them. Eagerly her lips parted with her eyes darting down from his eyes to his lips. Rumald stopped, catching movement over her shoulder.
He titled his head to get a better view through the windscreen and saw Gaston stood on the doorstep, watching them in the car. "You better go."
Belle whipped round to follow his gaze as Rumald said. "I'll see you tomorrow at the dance studio."
"Yes." She agreed opening her car door.
Rumald refused to say anything more to her. She closed the door without saying anything and trekked up the driveway to meet with Gaston on the doorstep. As he put the car into gear, Rumald saw Gaston gesture towards Rumald and his car, looking very cross as he spoke to Belle. He probably should have just pulled away, but Rumald waited until they were inside the house and had closed the front door. Whilst he drove away, a part of him worried about her, while he grinned like a complete fool, loving how his little scheme to give her his phone number had developed into so much more.