A/N: FINALLY, right?! But anyway, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been reading and supporting this story. I know updates are not frequent and that can be a total bummer, so I apologize, but I hope you love what I came up with and more than that, I hope you love the guest star who shows up this chapter! :) Enjoy! And thank you soooo much for reading, following, favoriting and reviewing. Everything means SO much to me!
It was terrifying, knowing that she could get caught at any moment. She felt like maybe it was written on her face, like she had something to hide and it was only a matter of time before somebody else figured it out. She knew the girls were perceptive; they seemed to know everything and nothing about one another all at the same time. But if she kept her eyes down and to herself, that might set off even more alarms.
So, Belle had to be as typical as possible. Not a single thing could tip anyone off.
The agony of a long night was actually welcome new this time, as she returned to the floor and saw her section crammed with very eager patrons. She actually heaved a sigh of relief. It was going to be okay if she kept busy.
And that she did.
It was a veritable see of customers who were all exceptionally thirsty. Not even Sean had time at the bar to say anything except a pithy comment about how busy it was, and Belle was content to nod and smile without any genuine effort before she was forced to do the same thing at the tables.
Time passed quickly, before she knew it the club was clearing out and a familiar anxiety bubbled back up into her stomach. She knew what she wanted to do was crazy. She knew meeting him anywhere was going to end poorly, but she was doing it anyway.
There was something about him that made her want to take chances and risks she had never wanted before. For so much of her life, she'd just looked at the safe reaches – going to college, being a journalist, all of those things could happen on such a small scale. No one would even know that she was reaching beyond anything anyone ever expected for if she had achieved those things. Few would scrutinize her for it either.
But this, meeting a man with illicit connections in a hotel after being abducted… if anyone else had told her that was what they were doing; Belle might have had them committed. But she supposed, at this point, maybe it was worth it to be daring (and mildly stupid). Maybe she had found something worth the fight.
Breathing deep through her nose, Belle was ready to go. She hurried out of her gear, changed as quickly as possible. She didn't even bother to take her make-up off. Some of the girls gave her sideways glances, but she was moving too quickly and too much to actually answer any of their queries with sincerity.
Of course, her friends were going to be more pressing toward her, but even they were able to 'understand' when Belle cited her discomfort and feelings of illness. For once she was glad that her anxiety was clearly written on her face. Ashley pointed out that she did look pale, and M&M added tired, which was the perfect point for Belle to have reached.
She nodded briskly and dashed before anyone could stop her.
It was bad enough getting out, but now she needed to get the Sheraton without getting noticed or followed. A cab wasn't really going to cut it. A fistful of bills would certainly get whatever cabbie's mouth open, no matter what she told them. Money was all too alluring for some.
Belle would have to hoof it. It was a daunting task, but with her coat pulled tight around her and the collar pulled up around her cheeks, she thought she did a fairly good job at hiding her face as she hurried down the boulevards trying to avoid prying eyes.
It was nice to disappear. No one really spared her passing glances on the street, they had no reason to. She wasn't bare to their gazes like she was in the club, she wasn't expected to be cordial or flirty, she was just one person running down the street. To everyone else she didn't have a name, she didn't have a face, she probably didn't even have thoughts.
It was the strangest thing to contemplate. Knowing that everyone around a person was living their own life, but their placement adjacent to hers was so mysterious, she could not for a moment fathom what made any of them in a particular place. Were they running and surviving too? They have been. It seemed like everyone was.
It was only after a lengthy trip; complete with heavy breathing and a heavy heart that Belle was covered in a thin sheen of sweat from exertion and cold air that she stood in front of the Sheraton-Blackstone. It was just like she had heard of it: grand and intimidating.
She almost felt like she didn't even belong there. It was a world so foreign to her, full of privilege and wealth that she had never really known. She'd never stayed in hotels as a child, never straying from her home or the homes of families. Even at Northeastern, she'd lived at home to help take care of her mother and father. Staying with Robert Gold had been her first foray into luxury, and even then, outside of the gorgeous view of Chicago, his penthouse was nothing like this.
Decadence to an extreme, Belle lowered her eyes even to the doorman, not wanting to offend. He did not even notice her as he opened the door with his pressed, white gloves. A burst of warm air rushed out at her and Belle held her breath. The gateway was open, and she just had to push through.
Steeling herself, the brunette pressed forward, her first toe landing on marble ground with a click that seemed to reverberate around the entire lobby. It was empty, save for a few lingering souls, probably returning back from a night at the theatre (judging by their furs and hats) and the desk clerk. Belle paused, wondering if the sound offended, waiting for someone to shout how she did not belong and should go back to wherever it was she came from.
Much like in the street, no one paid Belle any attention at all. She was just another person walking, and that was a small comfort as she gained a little bit of confidence and started toward the front. "It'll be under the name Reggie," she remembered him whispering to her, and she balled her fists by her side, hoping that she would not falter.
The man at the desk spared a glance upward as her steps got closer. He had sharp blue eyes and a crooked smile that unsettled Belle deeply. It wasn't that she perceived he was dangerous, but he also didn't look like a hotel clerk. Well, not what she imagined anyway – she'd never really met a clerk before… but that wasn't really the point. He just looked too intelligent for what he was doing here, too aware, if that were possible.
Once she was close enough, he leaned his elbows on the counter top: his crooked smile not faltering as he tried to meet her eyes. Belle did her best to avoid him, but found herself staring directly at him anyway. He had some kind of strange pull as he moved just a little too close for comfort. "Reggie's girl, yeh?" he asked, raising his thick eyebrows at her.
Belle felt her cheeks flush. This person knew. She froze, unsure of how to answer. There were two possibilities here. He could be a friend, someone put in place by Gold to help usher her upstairs and safe. The other possibility made her stomach twist. She could never make it upstairs tonight if she answered the wrong way.
The man behind the counter did not share her fear. At the prolonged silence between them, he started to laugh and slapped his hand uncomfortably loud against the countertop. "Oh little Rabbit," he practically cooed, relighting the flame in her cheeks, "No need to look so scared. Reggie's an old friend."
Old friend could mean a lot of things.
Belle was not going to trust him so easily, and the wary look she gave him must have been exasperating enough. "Look," he leaned in again, his breath smelling vaguely of chamomile and peppermint, "I work with Reggie. Help him out on the side." He slipped the key on the counter with a small tag attached that indicated the room number. "Head upstairs on the lift and no one will bat an eye, Rabbit. Reg is waiting."
He made no move to follow her; he even withdrew his hand as she put hers forward to take the key. Belle nodded at him and closed her hand around the key. It was like a surge of electricity was reinvigorating her. No one with a gun jumped out from behind a pillar, there was no secret trap under the floor ready to swallow her whole, she didn't even feel a prick in her hand to deliver poison. It was just a key.
The ecstasy of knowing that this initial part of the ordeal was not a trick was over, but followed by the understanding that the room on the tag could very well be a trap. Gold could have been safely in another room, or perhaps dead, who knew at this point, and she was being directed to an assailant waiting with a pistol or a knife or anything to strike her down. "Thank you," she murmured quietly, and the grinning man stood up straight, much taller than her.
As he stood, and the light changed on him, she managed to catch sight of thin pink line on his neck: like a scar. She tried not to stare, but she couldn't help but see. The man did not seem too perturbed as he went back to writing in a ledger. Though, when Belle glanced over, she could see the book he was 'writing' in was blank.
Curiouser and curioser.
Belle scurried from the desk, not wanting to linger much longer and rolled the key over in her hand. She checked the tag. Tenth floor.
She didn't much like elevators, but she figured it would be much less taxing than using the stairs. She was already tired from practically jogging to the hotel. She pushed the button with her manicured finger and shifted uncomfortably in her shoes.
It felt very much like Belle imagined a march to execution might feel like. She dreaded the worst, imagining whatever it was at the end of this was going to hurt, or worse, not work. She'd read about that sort of thing – in the high days of the French Revolution. The guillotine would be so dull from all of the executions that the heavy blade would most assuredly fall… but it wouldn't penetrate the skin.
The poor soul's neck would be broken, sometimes half severed, and they'd breathe on and live while they raised the blade again. The agonizing pain in between moments of intense fear, most likely shock, all of it would descend upon that person in an execution gone wrong.
Fortunately, a guillotine was no longer necessary and the methods were much more succinct these days. She imagined if she were walking to the gallows, so to speak, she wouldn't be met by a man in a black mask with a rope. It'd be a plastic tarp, maybe a blade or a pistol, and a pinstriped suit. Each ding of a bell as she traveled upward felt like a funeral knell. Vibrating in the chamber of the elevator, they seemed to echo into one another, and Belle tried to swallow her anxiety, even if it did live a sour taste in her mouth and a rumbling in her stomach.
The ninth bell was loud.
It felt louder than any of the others, and she could feel herself shrinking. It was almost as though if she wanted to, right now, she could disappear into the background and never been seen again. Unfortunately, when she looked down at her hands, she was not fading at all. She supposed she could turn around, or she could leave. But, on the chance that the man at the desk was not lying, that Gold was here and safe and she hadn't been duped, she couldn't.
She decided it might be better if she confronted whatever this was, regardless of how it ended up. When the last bell rang, when the doors sprung open, Belle rolled her shoulders. The floor was even more richly decorated than the lobby. She was nervous, but she had to do this.
Belle looked at the key again, for the number, and came to a door. It didn't seem that different from what she anticipated. The molding was gorgeous, the walls were neatly painted and nothing was cracked. There was even a lush, maroon carpet under her feet that cushioned every heeled step she took. Maybe no one even heard her as she stood in front of the door.
If the person behind it was looking out of the peephole, they didn't let on. It was so quiet anyone could hear a pin drop. She wondered how loud a knock on the door would be. She had to be brave though.
Belle flipped the key in her hand before she connected it to the lock. It was a swift motion that set the wind rushing from her lungs and a pang straight to her heart. She just had to twist the key and it was over. The door creaked open slowly, and she peered in through the crack. The interior was dark. It didn't seem like there was anything in there at all.
She didn't know if that made her feel any better. But, she moved forward anyway. Time to take her fate into her own hands, she recognized. Belle moved into the dark foyer, seeing the sitting area and the tables, all dark and plush. There was a hall and several doorways. She could only assume this was some kind of suite – the kind of thing she'd only ever heard of before.
As quietly as she could, Belle shut the door behind her, pulling on the door shut. Even she could barely hear the click as it shut again. Even still, she stood perfectly in place, looking inward to see if shadows were moving. The room, like her, was still.
For a moment, she wanted to call out to see if someone was there, but she couldn't find her voice. It was stuck somewhere in her throat, and she slipped off her shoes, just in case her shoes alerted someone unpleasant of her presence.
Besides, there seemed to be a light coming from one of the rooms further in the suite. Perhaps like a mouth to the flame, Belle moved further into the dark rooms, closer to the light coming out from the bedroom, she assumed, since there was a tile floor near another doorway that poked open, signaling it was the bathroom.
Creeping along, Belle realized she wasn't nervous. She was already in. To leave now, it didn't seem possible. She'd screw up; she'd be dead either way. It seemed to help her find her voice, and Belle took a deep breath before she was standing right outside of the door. "Hello?" she called, even in her weak voice.
She closed her eyes, not having to wait long before she heard some rustling. Someone was in there, that was for certain, and Belle listened as hard as she could, screwing her eyes shut to concentrated all of her energy on her hearing. She was listening for the uneven gait of Gold's footsteps.
Even though she heard it, she almost refused to believe it until she heard the door creak open. "Belle?" his voice was soft, but gruff, and Belle felt tension leap from her muscles, "You came."
He sounded so full of awe, like he didn't believe she would, that Belle opened her eyes and smiled at him, "Of course I came," she soothed, moving toward him.
The relief of knowing that the man downstairs hadn't led her astray, that this wasn't' a death trap was enough to make her want to throw herself into his arms and just stay, for as long as possible. But, it wasn't why she was here. She was here to talk to him.
"I'm sorry it's so late," he murmured as he took her hand and led her into the large room. It was outfitted with not only the largest bed she had ever seen, but also a sitting section and a table. It was like an apartment inside of a bedroom. She imagined someone could comfortably live in this room alone if they added a kitchenette. It seemed so strange that people would pay to stay in a room like this for maybe even just one night. She very briefly wondered what it might cost.
She supposed that was what the wealthy did.
Gold, for instance, looked so much like he belonged in this place. Even without his jacket on, his dress shirt and tie, pristine and crisp, leather shoes sitting by the edge of the slightly rumpled bed, indentations and wrinkles where a person must have been sitting.
"If anyone should apologize for the hour, it's me…" she half smiled, "or Regina," and giggled just a little, hoping to lighten the mood just a little bit.
She saw his shoulders shake with silent chuckles and her half smile bloomed in full. "That's true," he grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "But I wouldn't have you apologize for anything."
Belle blushed despite herself and gnawed on the inside of her cheek. "I should though," she finally admitted out loud. "For getting into this – for making all of this happen."
She didn't anticipate another bout of laughter from her companion. "Oh sweetheart," he breathed in between laughs.
"Don't laugh," she protested, though not sincerely. It must have sounded so silly, apologizing for things she practically stumbled upon. He did try, for her sake, even if it was a rather lame attempt, complete with the ineffective use of his hand to cover his mouth. "Are you finished?" she asked, only a little impatiently.
Though he still smiled, and appeared to be keeping a very large store of air in his lungs, like a sausage stuffed in a casing that threatened to bust. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. It was so sweet that it was Belle's turn to laugh. "For now."
He dipped a kiss between her eyes, and then another on her nose, and then on one cheek, then the other… Belle leaned into him, taking a step closer, and tilted her head up to get a proper kiss. But, he avoided her lips and Belle whined in protest. "This is something I wish you could finish with," she pressed her lips together in a pout as she ran her hand down his shirtfront.
A hum rose in the back of his throat and it vibrated in his chest. "I thought we had to talk," he leaned his forehead against hers and Belle almost forgot what they had to talk about.
"We do," Belle sighed as she closed her eyes, feeling his warm breath on her face, and him being so close. She just couldn't let herself start yet. She wanted to stand, just like this, for a minute more, and soak in the feeling before it probably all went down hill again.