I'm a little late on this chapter, sorry for that. It wasn't flowing as well as past chapters I've written. Also, I'll be starting classes next week (college, sigh), so I might not have as much time to write, especially writing two stories, but I'll try my best to update regularly.

Again thanks to CharlotteAshmore for editing this chapter.

Hope everyone enjoys the chapter!

Belle, after she left work, went to see her father. It had been awhile since they'd spoken, both busy with work. She opened the door of his little flower shop, Game of Thorns, to see one of his workers at the register. She figured her father was working in his office, managing the shop and money.

She followed a back door, to her father's office, and saw that he was where she expected him to be. Moe, her father, had his head bent over a pad of paper, jotting some things down.

"Hi, Papa," Belle announced, entering the room.

Her father looked up, a smile on his face at seeing his daughter. "Belle!" he exclaimed. "What a wonderful surprise. I wasn't expecting you to show up any time soon. You probably have better things to do than spend time with your old man."

Belle walked to a seat facing Moe's desk, and clasped her hands in her lap, after sitting down. "Why would you say that, Papa? I love spending time with you." She smiled after he laughed at her comment.

"Oh, Belle. Always so diplomatic," Moe said, pointing a pencil at her. "You take after your mother."

Belle's smile dimmed a little at the thought of her mother. It had been three years since she'd passed away from breast cancer. Belle tried not think of her mom too much, not liking to remember the pain of her death.

Moe sat back in his seat, grimacing. "I'm sorry, Belle. I shouldn't have mentioned her."

Belle waved a hand. "It's all right, Papa. You were trying to be nice. I miss her," Belle said, softly.

Moe became grim. "Me too, dear. She would be scolding me right now for upsetting you."

Belle smiled again at her father's words. "That's true. She was one to speak her mind."

Moe folded his hands beneath his chin. "What brings you here to see me?"

Belle shrugged. "I just missed you. It's been a few weeks since we last spoke. I wanted to know how you were doing."

"Same old, same old. Owing people money like I always do," he muttered.

Belle frowned. "You owe people money? What for?"

Moe dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Nothing to concern yourself with, Belle. Just getting loans for the shop. I have to repay them."

"I'm not exactly comfortable with you owing money, Papa," Belle said, concerned. "How much?"

"Just a couple thousand dollars," Moe responded.

Belle's eyes widened. "A couple thousand dollars? Papa, that's not exactly something to be so nonchalant over."

Moe pointed at her. "See, this is why I didn't want to tell you. I knew you would be worried. It's my problem, Belle. I don't want you carrying my burdens."

Belle sighed. "I know, Papa, but you're still my dad, and I worry for you."

Moe's eyes softened. "I appreciate that, Belle, but I can handle my financial issues myself."

Belle slumped her shoulders. "All right. I'll leave you alone on that."

"Thank you," Moe said. "Now, what's been going on with you?"

Belle hesitated, deciding not to mention Mr. Gold to her father. He didn't need to know about her love life, or lack thereof. It always made him uncomfortable, and Belle didn't think telling him about her flirting sessions with a possible criminal would make him feel any better. Omission was always best with her Papa. "You know, same old, same old," she said, repeating his expression. "Trying to crack down on crime bosses, and all that jazz." She smiled, teasing, especially after her father laughed.

"Just another day at the office, huh?" Moe settled back against his seat.

Belle shrugged, innocently. "A person's got to do what a person's got to do."

Moe nodded, agreeing. "That's my little girl. Trying to save the world."

Belle ducked her head, embarrassed by his praise. "Oh," she looked back up remembering something, "I was going to tell you Papa, that I've decided to get a cat."

"A cat?"

"Yeah," Belle nodded. "It gets a little lonely living by myself, and I could do with some company."

"You could always come back and live with your old man," Moe said, trying to help.

Belle laughed, patting her father's hand. "Papa, I love you, but I'm a grown up now. I can't live with you anymore."

Moe chuckled. "I know. Thought I would just offer."

Belle patted his hand again, and stood up. "I should be getting home. I have some reading to get to."

"You're going to choose reading over your father?" Moe pretended to sound affronted.

Belle laughed. "Well, you know how much I love to read."

"That I do," Moe nodded. As Belle headed to the door, Moe called out, causing Belle to look back. "And grownups don't call themselves grownups, Belle. We refer to ourselves as adults."

Belle laughed again. "Ok, Papa, duly noted." She left the room, shaking her head at her father's antics. Her papa was an interesting man, though one she worried about. She thought of his words, about owing people money. Belle knew that her Papa wasn't the most responsible when it came to financial means, but she told herself not to get too concerned.

After all, her father was an adult.

On Wednesday night, David arrived at the harbor, gripping the piece of paper Jefferson had written the address on. The detective got out of the car, slowly walking to a cannery where a supposed meeting was going to take place. He had a hidden recorder on him, but lacked any communication with his commanding officers. It was too much of a risk bringing many items with him. He essentially had to go in blind and alone.

He knocked on the door, and Jefferson answered. David was expecting more of a secret code to be asked for, or questions to be answered, but all Jefferson did was look him up and down, and nod for David to enter.

Once he was in the cannery, David saw two other men, milling around. One of them was the man named Leroy, he had seen at the bar Friday night.

Jefferson indicated with a hand for David to join the other men in the middle of the room. Once he did that, Jefferson nodded, and clapped his hands. He stood in front of all three men, demanding attention.

"All right, men. I have asked you here to see if I can trust you."

"Trust us for what?" Leroy grumbled.

Jefferson rolled his eyes. "Leroy, you know what. All of you," he roamed his eyes over the men, "have been a part of something fishy in your past lives. My boss is looking for more men to expand his empire, and you three are perfect candidates."

"But you said I wouldn't be a part of any gangs," Leroy demanded.

Jefferson rolled his eyes again. "I lied," he said, simply. David quietly snorted, while Jefferson resumed speaking. "Anyway, I need to know if I can trust you. Make sure none of you are cops and such," as he said that, his eyes locked with David's.

David didn't move a muscle on his face, trying his best to look innocent.

"I need to know," Jefferson said, "if you men are ready to be a part of something big. An empire isn't something to be messed with."

"What benefits do we get from this?" the third guy asked.

"What benefits?" Jefferson asked, clasping his hands. "The benefits, John, are for you to learn to shut up when I'm speaking." The man, John, flushed. Jefferson cleared his throat, and straightened his vest. "The benefits, John," he repeated in a more amiable tone, "are safety. Become a part of Hook's empire and you'll never have to fear for food or shelter or money again." Jefferson pointed a finger at each man individually. "And all you men have to do, is a little questionable business for Hook. Do as he and I say, and there will be no problem."

"Are we ever going to meet Hook?" David asked.

Jefferson frowned. "Eventually." He tilted his head. "I just realized that I never asked you for your name."

"James," the detective said. David guessed that the protocol for joining the mob didn't include much insight into a person's record.

Jefferson nodded. "James. Eventually, if you agree to our terms and rules, then you will meet Hook. Of course, after you've proven yourself."

"And how do we do that?" Leroy asked.

"When the time comes, I'll let you know," Jefferson said, ominously. David had to resist the urge to chuckle. This meeting felt much like a fraternity hazing. He was surprised when he didn't have a black bag tied over his head, and men standing around candle light, in middle aged robes, chanting. "If this sounds like an interesting proposition for you, let me know. Just don't go bragging to the cops of what you've seen here today. It won't be pleasant for you if you do." Jefferson stepped up closer to David, ignoring the other two men.

"So, James," Jefferson said, wrapping an arm around David's shoulder, "you are an intriguing fellow."

David cleared his throat. "Why do you say that?"

Jefferson frowned. "I'm half convinced that you are a cop, trying to infiltrate the organization I'm a part of."

"If that were the case," David responded, "then why would you tell me that you are seemingly disreputable organization?. If I was a cop, then I would have enough evidence to convict you."

Jefferson squeezed David's shoulder. "No you don't. If you are truly interested in joining our gang, than we better not find out that you are a police officer. It wouldn't end well for you." He patted David's arm. "And besides, I'm not the one you would want. Any idiot would know to go after Hook. I'm just a decoy."

David nodded. "You're right." He stepped out from under Jefferson's arm. "But, I'm not a detective. I'm just a guy who is fascinated by the dark side of life. I would love to make a lot of money, in a short amount of time, and something tells me that joining this particular organization will make that happen."

Jefferson smirked. "If you are a cop, then hopefully you're a corrupt one. If not..." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter now. We need more men, and you seem qualified." He pointed a finger David, lowering his eyes threateningly. "But don't think you can try to get one over on us. We already have one of our own working under the nose of a captain at one of your stations."

David stopped cold in his tracks. He'd assumed that Hook was capable of something as shady as placing one of his men to infiltrate their team, and go undercover as a police officer. The only problem was, suspicion was now confirmed. David just didn't have a clue as to who it could be.

David snapped back to the present, and shook his mind clear of his troubling thoughts. "You have a mole," was all he said.

Jefferson nodded. "Yep. So don't think you can be one either." He reached and grabbed David's hand to shake it. "Welcome aboard, James. I like you, so don't do anything stupid." He pulled his hand away. "I really do hope you're not a cop." With that, Jefferson dismissed David, going to speak with Leroy and John.

David felt like his mind had just been shaken loose and left to rattle around feebly within his skull. He had to figure out who the mole was, and try not to worry that his cover could be blown before he could find real evidence to convict this gang. David knew though, that nothing was as easy as it sounded.

And none of this sounded easy.

Killian hated detective work.

He would have much preferred helping Gold plan their next mission, than sit in a conference on how to proceed detecting criminals. He was a criminal. He didn't need to know how to catch one.

Gold, however, wanted to make sure he was in secure position with the police. Ergo, send in Killian to be a mole, and gather information. So far, he had nothing. Knowing Captain Mills though, Killian figured she had a plan of some sort, he just didn't know what. He and the Captain weren't exactly on good terms after he obtained illegal evidence in a case. He had been on probation for a little while, and Gold had been pissed.

Now, though, Killian was finally starting to get back into the Captain's good graces. Just not enough to be let in on any secret plans, he guessed. He was essentially sent back to the bottom of the food chain.

Gold had really been pissed when that happened.

Killian kind of screwed up the older man's plan. Thankfully for Killian, Gold viewed him as a son. Being fired was never an option.

Killian was flipping a pen between his fingers, listening to the man up front, Graham, drone on about finding evidence to convict a criminal, when Killian saw the cute blonde Lieutenant pass by the window. Killian stood up from his chair, ignoring the scowl Graham sent his way, and followed after Emma Swan.

"Lieutenant Swan," he called, eliciting said woman to turn around. She scowled herself when she saw Killian, gripping her mug tighter in her hand.

Emma sighed. "What do you want, Jones? If you think I'm going to sleep with you, then you are surely barking up the wrong tree. Don't ask again."

He smirked, spreading his arms wide. "What can I say? I'm a dog."

Emma snorted. "Yeah, and a smelly one at that." She started to walk away, when she turned back, pointing a finger. "And I'm your Lieutenant by the way. Don't speak to me like we're equals."

Killian pouted, mocking. "Your little assistants sure speak to you like you're equals." He nodded in the direction of Ruby and Belle's desks.

Emma smirked. "Yeah, because I actually like them, and they know their place." She eyed Killian up and down, disapprovingly. "Unlike some people," she muttered, walking away.

Killian remained standing in the hallway, smiling. Gold wouldn't like him spending his time flirting with blondes, but a guy had to find some entertainment in his boring job.

At that moment, Killian's phone rang, signaling it was Jefferson. He answered the cell, snapping, "What?"

"Don't get testy with me, Jones. Was a certain blonde ignoring you again?" Jefferson chuckled on the other end. Jefferson knew not to call Killian by his pseudonym name, Hook. Killian knew his phone wasn't wired, as there was no suspicion linking him to anything, but one could never be too careful.

Killian rolled his eyes, easing into the conversation. Jefferson wasn't one to take things too seriously. "She knows she can only resist so long," Killian teased, then sobering in an instant. He lowered his voice, walking into a stairwell, not to be overheard. "How did last night go?"

"Just fine," Jefferson responded. "Two of the men seem really promising."

Killian snorted. "That means that they're lowlife drunks, doesn't it?"

Jefferson chuckled. "Would you have it any other way?"

Killian smirked. "Not at all."

Jefferson hesitated. "There is another man that I'm not so sure about."

Killian straightened up, frowning at Jefferson's tone of voice. "What do you mean?"

The other man sighed. "I think it's a cop, trying to infiltrate us."

Killian gritted his teeth. "Like a mole?"

"Yeah," responded Jefferson. "He's interesting though. I can't quite tell, but I know he didn't tell me his real name, so he'll be difficult to track down. Unless of course, you're into doing some forensic work, and wanting to ID this guy."

Killian pursed his lips. "A cop in our midst could be fun. Trying to break him down, until he decides not to be a cop any longer. Of course, you know not to mention who I really am. I don't want this guy to find out."

"I know, Jones. I imagine that would be weird to find out you work with the guy. Talk about awkward," Jefferson sounded way too pleased with the scenario.

"We try to kind this guy," Killian growled, "before he finds me."

Jefferson laughed. "Oh I know. Let's go catch a rat."

Killian met Gold at a nice little restaurant downtown, one off the beaten path, after work. The older man already had his hands resting atop the handle of his cane, sitting properly in his seat.

Killian internally rolled his eyes. No slacking for the boss. Nothing but the most respectable posture imaginable.

Gold nodded at Killian when he entered, signaling for the younger man to sit.

"Punctuality is key, Mr. Jones," Gold murmured. "I expect you to be more so in the future."

Killian glanced down at his watch to see he was a few minutes past the time they'd agreed to meet up. Now he did roll his eyes, sighing. "You know, old man, you are way too much a stickler for details. Can't you lighten up? I'm only three minutes late."

Gold folded a napkin over his lap, still being the picture of power. "No, I can't lighten up, Killian. That's not the way I do things," he smirked, flipping a lock of hair away from his eye with one finger.

Killian snorted. "I know. You really need to get that stick out of your arse before it becomes permanently lodged up there."

Gold's lips twitched, not enough to actually smile. "And you need to wipe that pompous smirk off your face before it becomes unflattering. It will, dearie. The women will only love it for so long."

Killian chuckled. "What do you know about women, Gold? You're getting a divorce, remember? It doesn't seem to me like you're an expert."

"Unlike you?" Gold raised one eyebrow.

Killian spread his arms wide. "Well, you said it."

Gold finally chuckled, letting go of his firm, serious mask. "That I did," he murmured. Being Mr. Gold though, he'd had enough of small talk, and wanted to get down to business. "How did Jefferson fare last evening?"

"He did all right," Killian said. "You know Jefferson, flamboyant all." Killian frowned. "Though he did mention a potential cop in our midst."

Gold's hand halted midair before he could take a sip from his glass. "A police officer?" Killian nodded. "Do we know who it is?"

Killian shook his head. "Not yet, but Jefferson thinks we should have fun first."

Gold sighed. "Of course, he does. What does he want to happen? Get the officer to confess that he's a cop by beating him and turn him to our side?" Killian just pointedly looked at Gold. The older man sighed again. "Of course," he repeated.

"I know," Killian replied. "Sounds fun."

Gold scoffed, shaking his head. "You two are demented."

The younger man tilted his head, furrowing his brow. "And what are you?"

Gold steadily looked at him. "Your worst nightmare," he said, softly.

Killian laughed. "I know, old man. Don't get on your bad side. I've heard it before."

"So don't forget it," Gold responded. Just then, a man hesitantly approached their table, clinging onto his baseball cap. "Ah, there you are, Anthony," Gold greeted the man.

Killian rolled his eyes, knowing that Gold was conducting more of his 'business.' The man, Anthony, sat down at the table, closer to Killian than Gold, he observed.

"M-Mr. Gold," Anthony stuttered, nodding.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Nelson?" Gold asked the stuttering man. "I presume you're here to ask for money."

Anthony nodded, desperately. "My shop isn't making as much money anymore, and the bank wont send me a loan for fear I won't be able to pay it back."

Gold rested his hands underneath his chin. "And what makes you think I would give you money? Shouldn't I be worried that you won't pay me back?"

Killian flitted his eyes back and forth between Gold and Anthony. He had never really seen Gold make a transaction before. Killian wondered why the hell anyone would take money from Gold. He was practically raised by him, and still found the older man intimidating, despite his teasing nature with him. Didn't these men know that they would be screwed over ten ways to Sunday by asking for money from Gold as compared to a bank? But that was what Killian enjoyed so much about his mentor. Gold was ruthless.

Anthony gripped his cap tighter between his hands. "I know that if I'm given the money, I can repay it. I just need to be given the chance," he pleaded.

Gold pursed his lips. "I can give you the chance, Mr. Nelson, but first I need to know what I'll be funding. Something tells me when you called last week, you weren't completely honest with me. Anthony Nelson isn't your real name."

Anthony squirmed in his seat, gulping. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Because I'm good at detecting lies," Gold replied, softly. "When I asked for your name over the phone, you hesitated in giving it to me. You made it up on the spot. Also because 'Anthony Nelson' is the name of a fictional character on a sixties sitcom." He tilted his head, squinting his eyes. "Now, why would you not want to give your real name? I can't exactly do business with you if can't be honest with me."

Anthony started to sweat, and looked ready to bolt. "B-because I'm worried for my family. I don't want you to hurt them."

Gold frowned, lifting his hands in a question. "Now, why would you think I would hurt your family? You haven't done anything wrong. Unless of course, you don't plan on repaying me, in which, we will have a problem."

Anthony's eyes widened perceptibly. "I want to make a deal with you, Sir. Just give me the money, and I'll pay it back, I promise."

Gold stared hard at the other man, until he finally nodded. "Meet me at my office tomorrow morning, and we'll go over the details."

Anthony grabbed Gold's hand, shaking it quickly. "Thank you, Mr. Gold."

Gold pulled his hand away, gently. "Though, I still want to know why you wont give me your name."

Anthony hesitated. "I...have a daughter, and I don't want her to get caught up in this mess. It would make my life a lot easier, and hers as well, if I didn't tell you my real name."

Gold shrugged. "Fair enough. I can still have you sign under your alias. Doesn't matter to me, just as long as you follow the contract and rules."

Anthony nodded, desperately. "I will," he agreed.

Gold dismissed the man with a nod. "Tomorrow morning," he reminded the man.

"Tomorrow morning," Anthony repeated, standing up, and leaving the restaurant.

Gold turned to look at Killian, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

Killian snorted. "That poor man. He won't know what hit him, until he's made a deal with you."

Gold calmly rested his hands on his cane again, smirking. "I would advise Mr. Nelson to run for his life."

Gold entered Granny's diner the next morning. Despite his utter disapproval of spending time in a diner, much less a diner called Granny's, he was pleased that he had decided to take tea that one morning before going to his office. Otherwise he would not have met the beautiful Miss French. Sometimes running late and stopping at the closest eating establishment had its perks.

He didn't bring a book with him today, hoping to speak with Miss French, and not waste his time pretending to read. He smirked when he already saw here in the diner, sipping out of a mug, and reading, like usual.

He ordered tea, and walked to stand behind the chair across from Miss French. He cleared his throat when she didn't look up, smirking even more when she blushed at seeing him.

"Mind if I sit, Miss French?" He pointed at the chair.

She quickly waved a hand in the direction of the seat. "Of course...have a seat."

He settled down, resting his cane against the table, and folded his hands underneath his chin. "How are you today?"

She smiled a little, hesitantly. "I'm fine, like usual. Nothing really big happening," she said, sheepishly.

He frowned. "That's too bad. A young woman like you should be out having adventures and experiencing life."

She blushed again, which made him smirk even more. But instead of taking on the shy kitten approach, she decided to tease him, and looked indignant. "I'll have you know, Mr. ..." She broke off. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Mr...?" Gold asked, folding his arms, and leaning back in his seat.

"Well, I still don't know your name, so I get caught up trying to call you something," she replied. Gold, of course, had no idea she just lied to him. What he also didn't know, was that she hated lying to him.

"How about this, Miss French. You come out to dinner with me next Saturday night, and I'll tell you my name." Gold didn't exactly know why he'd just asked Miss French out on a date. He did find her beautiful, and fascinating to speak with. He figured, with his divorce coming up, he would take more chances. He was a man that never played by the rules, and the thought of taking Miss French out on a date, brought him immense pleasure. He also wanted to tell her his name. It wasn't as if he was keeping it from her for any particular reason, mostly because he enjoyed teasing her. He had meant it though when he told her that names mean power.

But Miss French seemed too sweet to want to control him. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. He also just wanted to go out on a date with a beautiful woman, but that was beside the point.

Belle's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline, not expecting Gold to say what he'd said...but Mr. Gold had been right in saying she didn't live enough. She wanted to do something she normally wouldn't do, and who better to do it with, than a man that intrigued her, and piqued her curiosity.

While Belle was analyzing so much in her mind, she forgot to answer Mr. Gold right away. His smirk started to slip, when she didn't give a response.

"You don't have to, of course," Gold murmured, his eyes hardening a little.

Belle shook herself from her mind funk, and quickly shook her head. "No!" Belle exclaimed, disagreeing with him.

He quirked an eyebrow. "No, you don't want to go on a date with me?"

Belle shook her head again, wanting to slap herself. "No, I meant I'm not agreeing with not going on a date with you." He frowned, looking confused. Belle really wanted to slap herself.

"I'm a smart man, Miss French, but you're not making clear sense." Gold moved in his seat, trying to get comfortable. "Let's try this again. Miss French, would you like to go on a date with me?"

Belle took in a deep breath, and nodded. "Yes, I would like that."

Gold nodded, smirking. "Are you sure? You don't even know my name. How can you trust me?"

Belle giggled at his teasing tone. "Well, you'll tell me your name on our date. Then I'll know if I can trust you or not."

Gold glanced around the diner, not quite sneering. "I'll take you somewhere better than this."

"What, you don't like the diner?" Belle pursed her own lips, teasing him back.

He eyed the paper tablecloth with disapproval. "It's not exactly the most elegant of places, with plastic silverware and overpriced lasagna."

Belle shook her head. "I met you here, and you were here before I was."

"That is true," Gold acknowledged. "But the only reason I stopped in here was because I was a little behind schedule, and it's very close by to where I work."

Belle propped her chin in a hand. "And where's that?"

He paused, pointing a finger at her. "Ah, you'll just have to find out on our date, next Saturday night."

She sighed, dropping her hand. "Fine. But I was going to tell you off earlier and let you know that I live my life plenty."

He cocked his head to the side. "Do you?" He said it very softly.

That drew Belle up, and she hesitated. "...Well, yes. I have a lot of adventure with my job...and I'm getting a cat!" She added, proudly, not knowing what else to say.

He chuckled. "Now, how can I argue with that?"

Belle harrumphed, nodding her head. "You can't, that's what."

"I must say, Miss French, that I'm truly enjoying your braver, more teasing side. It's refreshing from all the blushing you do." Of course, at that moment, Belle blushed, but Gold wasn't complaining. Her blush was simply enticing, and made her more attractive. Though her blush, only showed how young she was. He didn't even know her exact age, but he could tell he was quite a bit older than her. He didn't understand why a young woman, like Miss French, would want to spend an extra amount of time with him. He wasn't exactly in his prime anymore, but if the young woman wanted to spend an evening with him, he wasn't going to complain.

He knew he was attracted to her, and curious about her. He knew he wanted to speak with her for hours. He also knew, that with Miss French, fun was all they could have. He could go on a date, and enjoy it, but once the evening ended he wouldn't be able to tell Miss French who he really was. Nor did he want to.

He was just getting out of a terrible, corrupt marriage. He didn't need another relationship, but he definitely could have fun.

And Miss French could offer him that.

Belle met Ruby at her desk later that morning, anxiously wanting to talk to her friend.

"Ruby," Belle said, hurriedly rushing to her desk. The other girl glanced up curiously, flipping through a magazine. Belle rolled her eyes at Ruby's lack of focus to her job. "I have a date," Belle quickly said.

Ruby's eyes widened. "You have a date?" She sounded hopeful, yet ludicrous at the same time.

Belle nodded. "I have a date, with Mr. G..." She trailed off, biting her lip.

Ruby quirked an eyebrow. "You have a date with who?" She leaned forward on her desk, dropping her magazine. "Is it the guy you've been meeting with for your morning chocolate fixes? Discussing books, and all that."

"Yes, that guy." Belle slumped in her seat. "But there's something I have to tell you."

Ruby widened her eyes again, mockingly. "Oooh, sounds serious."

Belle dropped her head, nodding dramatically. "It is."

"Is the world ending?" Ruby asked. "Is the guy actually a pervert? Have you lost your favorite pair of shoes?"

Belle lifted her head from hands, eyeing Ruby. "That doesn't make any sense."

Ruby shrugged, indifferent. "No, you just don't have my superior knowledge to grasp what I am saying."

Belle smiled, rolling her eyes. "Ruby, I'm being serious. I have a problem."

Ruby sobered up. "What's wrong?"

Belle leaned closer to Ruby, lowering her voice. "The man I've been speaking with-,"

Ruby cut her off. "The one you're going on a date with!" Ruby squealed.

Belle waved a hand. "Yes, but you need to know..." She hesitated, taking a deep breath. "I know his name."

"Oh, he finally told you?!" Ruby shook her shoulders, excitedly.

Belle winced. "Not quite. I know his name because Captain Mills told me."

"Huh?" Ruby shot Belle a strange look.

Belle took in another deep breath. "His name is Mason Gold."

Ruby...well, saying she looked shocked was an understatement. "Mason Gold?" Belle nodded, still biting her lip. Ruby continued to gape at her. "Mason Fucking Gold?" Belle winced again, still nodding. Ruby then tried to form words. "H-how?" she stuttered.

"How?" Belle didn't understand the question.

"How did this happen?" Ruby demanded.

Belle sighed, squaring her shoulders. "I just met him at a diner. I never knew who he was until Captain Mills told me." Belle held up her hands at Ruby's shocked expression. "I know what you're probably thinking. How could I agree to go on a date with a possible criminal?"

Ruby shook herself out of her surprise. "That's not what I was thinking. I was just shocked that quiet, studious, little Belle would agree to go on a date with one of Boston's most powerful men... like ever."

Belle frowned. "Not because he might be a criminal?"

"Please, Belle," Ruby said, waving a wand, "you said the word possible. We don't know what that man is up to. He might not be a criminal at all, but a respectable, peaceful, lawyer."

Belle's frown deepened. "Did you really just say, 'respectable, peaceful, lawyer?'"

Ruby paused. "Huh, yeah I did."

Belle paused as well, before proceeding to giggle madly. Ruby started laughing as well. The irony of her words were too funny.

Belle finally calmed herself, wiping a tear from her eye. "Oh, Ruby...," she sighed. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, you said yes, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did," Belle nodded.

Ruby pursed her lips. "Then there is nothing to think about. You'll go on a date with Mr. Big Shot Lawyer, and then he'll bring you back to his mansion, and fuck the virgin right out of you."

Belle's mouth dropped open, as she swatted lightly at Ruby's arm. "Ruby!" Belle exclaimed. "Why would you say that?"

Ruby popped a piece of gum in her mouth, shrugging. "Because it's me?" She gave Belle a pointed look. "And you know I'm right."

Belle sat back, blushing. "You don't know that. It's just one date. I didn't agree to have sex with the man."

Ruby raised her eyebrows suggestively. "But, you were wondering what it would be like, weren't you?"

Belle rolled her eyes. "No I wasn't, because some of us can think without our minds in the gutter."

Ruby laughed. "Anyway, Belle, if you are so nervous to go out with him, then why did you say yes?"

Belle paused, thinking. "Because he intrigues me, makes me curious...and he's great at discussing books," she added, sheepishly.

Ruby rolled her eyes, smirking. "You and your books. So where is he taking you? A man with as much money as he has, it better be nice."

"I don't know. Just somewhere better than the diner, he said. He's taking me out next Saturday, so I'll probably see him again before then, to get more details."

Ruby nodded, satisfied with the answer. "Good, because I expect details."

"I'm not telling you everything, Ruby," Belle said, stubbornly crossing her arms.

Ruby eyed her. "Why the hell not?" Belle shot Ruby a pointed look. The other girl couldn't help but agree, sighing. "Because it's me," Ruby muttered.

Belle nodded, satisfied with that answer. She couldn't help but feel some nerves when thinking of Mason Gold. She had the urge, and desire to go on a date with him, a feeling she never had before. Belle just couldn't believe that a man with as much power as Mason Gold seemed to have, would want to take a lowly, young woman like herself out on a date. She didn't know what he saw in her, but she wasn't going to complain. She really did like talking with him, and wanted to spend more time with him.

It wasn't like she was looking for love or anything. She knew it was good for her to get out more, and experience life, just like Mr. Gold said. He had been right in saying she didn't get out much. She usually sheltered her own self, especially after her mother's death. Mr. Gold was the first person to make her feel confident. Probably because of his own power, Belle felt less shy and sheltered around Mason Gold. It was a nice feeling, and she didn't want to lose it.

Besides, she knew the date would be fun.

And she needed a little fun in her life.

If anyone is confused, Moe is Anthony. The funny thing is, I had no idea that the name Anthony Nelson was a character on the sitcom I Dream of Jeannie, and wrote the name coincidently. I just randomly chose the name Anthony and the surname Nelson is my mom's maiden name. CharlotteAshmore pointed that out to me when editing the chapter. Thought that was pretty funny. So I guess Moe's a fan of the show, and it seems Gold has heard of it as well...

Upcoming: A secret is confirmed, a date happens, and Moe continues being a fan of sixties sitcoms.