Chapter 11: Dress-up

"There you are! I was beginning to think you forgot about breakfast!" Belle beamed at she sat plates down on one of the few remaining antique tables, just as Mr. Gold came into sight.

Mr. Gold smiled, smiled a bit sadly she thought and that made her pause, "Something wrong this morning?" she felt herself frown with worry.

Mr. Gold paused, tipped his head slightly and gave her a small tight smile, "Of course not my dear." He blinked at her and his face changed to show a small but genuine smile, "Smells absolutely delicious."

Belle smiled proudly, "Thank you, I think it'll taste pretty good too," she motioned for him to sit, "I already made sure to feed our little helper today," Belle joined him with a nod toward the front of the store when Emma was manning the counter.

"Indeed."

Belle poured tea remembering how he took it.

"So...I have something I need to ask you," Belle fidgeted with her fork.

Mr. Gold lifted an eyebrow, "Oh? What dearie, is that?" he leaned back in his chair.

"Well, my friends, the Nolans – Emma's parents, want to have a dinner party and...and well they'd sort of like you to come," Belle rushed, her words running painfully together. She was scared to look at him and she bit her lip.

Mr. Gold, for his part was terribly curious, he, out of habit, reached for his cane that was leaning against his chair and folded his hands over it, "Why ever would they want that?" His head tipped and he leaned forward, seeking her eye contact.

Belle ventured a cautious look from under her lashes, "They might be under the impression, from Emma!" Belle hastily began to answer, "That I might, maybe, possibly...have something of a crush on you...and wanted to meet you...and I know that sounds just terribly silly...but they were really insistent and then there is Emma and that boy Neal...they are wanting to have him and his mother over because Emma, of course, wants to go on that date with him to the dance and they won't let her date a 17 year old, who is really almost 18, without meeting him and getting to know his parent...and you can't just have a small dinner party, I mean not with Mary Margaret! That just isn't done! Sometimes you'd think she was princess or something holding court...it's always a lavish affair..."

"Belle!" Mr. Gold finally stopped her tirade by reaching out and covering her mouth with his hand, "Stop talking," he said firmly though not at all unkindly, he wore a large, mischievous smile, "I would like nothing better to attend this, sure to be decadent, soiree."

Belle's eyes went wide even as she sat struck silent and still by his hand.

"Buttfampag," something completely intelligible came from Belle. She rolled her eyes and physically removed Mr. Gold's hand so she could speak properly, "You would?" she scrunched her brows "Why?" she was suspicious.

Mr. Gold chuckled lowly, "I'm intrigued of course. There is the mystery of why Emma believes you have this...crush on me. The chance to watch a father interrogate a poor teenage boy. I rather like that Neal, he might need a bit of support. I would also indeed like to meet these friends of yours, I'm sure they'll prove as interesting as their daughter and you. Plus, there is that this town has frightfully little to do around here and the change of pace would be a highlight."

Belle took that in and then frowned at him.

"Well, there is also spending the evening in your delightful company, I would consider that a tally mark in the pro column as well," he added with a dazzling little wink.

Belle's jaw fell and she struggled to close her mouth quickly. She had been hurt that in the list of reasons why that she hadn't been among them, he had apparently read that very clearly. The wink too of course threw her, that seemed entirely unlike the Mr. Gold she had come to know.

"When will this little fête be happening?" Mr. Gold appeared to greatly delight in disrupting her equilibrium.

"Ummm," Belle found she was having a hard time remembering when."Oh! Yeah, that is what I'm supposed to be finding out from you! When are you available?"

Mr. Gold did so appear to enjoy her flustering, "For you my dear, whenever you had in mind."

Belle opened her mouth to reply but closed it again. She repeated the motion.

"Hmph, I wasn't expecting that... The dance is next weekend, otherwise we'd do it on a weekend... Maybe Thursday? I believe Mary Margaret was calling Mrs. Cassidy today. Would Thursday work if it's agreeable to everyone else?"

Mr. Gold nodded, "Of course. I'll make sure my office clears anything I might have."

"Oh! That really isn't necess ..." Belle started to protest.

"Yes, it really is," Mr. Gold quickly cut off her words emphatically.

Belle looked at him bewildered, "Okay...I'll go call Mary Margaret and let her know... Thank you," she blushed and Mr. Gold rewarded her with a large smile.

That afternoon the only dress shop that Storybrooke could boast was filled to the brim with women.

"I don't know, pink? Isn't that a little too pink?" Ruby was skeptical.

"I like it, it's feminine," Mary Margaret argued.

"It has a lot of...bows, not sure about that," Granny frowned.

"I think it's lovely, but what do you think Emma?" Belle observed Emma's tight lipped, forced smile.

"It's pretty but..." Emma turned to look herself over in the full length of the floor to ceiling, tri-sided mirror, "It's just a little...big."

The dress was rather...big. It was a ball gown that would have been en vogue at the Queen of England's coronation. It was a fairy tale dress to be sure, a princess dress but a little ostentatious for a Storybrooke high school dance.

"You look like a princess! Your dad would just love this...his little princess," Mary Margaret had tears in her eyes and her hands folded under her chin.

Belle looked sympathetic at Emma and quietly went to see the sisters that ran the show. She had an idea about a dress that might appease everyone.

"Merry," Belle caught the youngest sister at the counter.

"Yes? How can I help you? Are you all having a good time? Can we get you some refreshments?" the woman in her early fifties, a little round, entirely friendly and sweet hearted smiled at her.

"Oh we're doing well, thank you... Actually though, I was wondering about a dress that was in your window, oh maybe two months ago? Knee length, had somewhat a feathered skirt? Pale pink, sequined top, strapless?"

Merry pursed her lips and frowned as she thought, "I think I remember the dress, but let me see if Fawn knows where it is."

Merry bustled off toward the backroom seeking Fawn, the middle sister.

Belle sighed and ventured back to the group of women. She was almost dreading what it was going to be like when poor Emma got married. This had to be just the tip of the scales. She shuddered and took her place next to Mary Margaret.

"Oh Belle...she's just getting so big, so fast...she is nearly all grown up...my baby! Pretty soon she is going to graduating high school...going off to college...getting married!" Mary Margaret clutched Belle's hand as Emma went to change out of the pink princess gown.

Belle wasn't unsympathetic in the slightest, it was startling to realize how much time has passed. She remembered Emma as a baby... Belle found tears forming in her own eyes, she was getting...old.

"Merry and Fawn just brought me one more dress we thought Emma might like. Emma is just getting changed," Flo, the eldest sister suddenly appeared from the dressing rooms.

The ladies perked up and waited for Emma to come out.

The dress was just right.

Belle felt Mary Margaret clutch her hand a little tighter. As Belle had imagined the dress was perfect. It was princess like, it reminded her of Emma's favorite fairytale growing up, Swan Princess, with the feathers all on the skirt... it was such a pale pink that when the light caught it it was almost white. The bodice of dress gleamed and glittered. It was young but elegant. Modest but fun. She might be a touch chilly since it was more a summer dress, but Belle rather thought Emma wouldn't mind.

"I think you could pair it was a nice opaque tight and a little bolo jacket... to make it a bit warmer..." Flo clucked her tongue as she looked Emma up and down. "This is from our summer dress collection, it's called Odette. It is actually the very last one we have...it's amazing we found this one actually. It was way pushed back in our back room, and it happened to be Miss Emma's size and doesn't appear to need tailoring a bit... What good fortune," Flo beamed.

Every woman present agreed wholeheartedly.

"What do you think Emma, do you like it?" Mary Margaret and the rest the room held their breath.

"Oh momma it's perfect! Just perfect!" Emma dove from the little pedestal where she had been standing and hugged her mom fiercely.

"And, I think we can let this go for a great price...since I didn't even know we had it," Flo grinned, she always had had a soft soft for the Nolans. She had dressed Mary Margaret for her proms, her wedding. Oh yes, they were the only dress shop in town but that didn't mean she didn't have her favorites.

Belle watch very pleased then frowned when she felt her mobile vibrate in her pocket. She discretely checked it and saw that it was Mr. Gold, which was odd because she didn't remember having his number in her phone.

"I'm so sorry guys...this is kind of important, I'll be right back," Belle stood heading toward the door.

"Is everything okay Belle?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Hm? Oh, yes...I'll be just a minute," Belle waved her off with a smile and pushed through the door out onto the sidewalk.

"Hello?" she answered, folding her arms against her body in defense of the cold and she had forgot her jacket.

"Hello Belle, it's Mr. Gold...I'm sorry to be bothering you but it seems I've had an emergency come up...I won't be in town next week..."

Belle felt her heart fall and for some reason tears spring to her eyes.

"It is a messy business problem I have to deal with but I will be there for your dinner party, which actually is rather why I'm also bothering you. Have you confirmed a date? I need to have Mrs. Potts block that time as soon as possible as this...issue," he spat, "is going to sadly take most, if not all, all the rest of the week."

Belle couldn't find her voice she was so delighted. He was still going to come. It shouldn't delight her nearly as much as it did. He said that he would come and he was going to. Not only was he going to come...he was making time specifically for her. He was going to put her above all else... Oh she need to get ahold of herself quickly as her silly, romantic heart was running away with her sensible mind!

"Belle? Are you there? Did I lose you?"

"What? No! I'm sorry... Dinner is at 7, Thursday," she managed a huge grin plastered on her face.

"Great, I'll make sure Mrs. Potts takes care of it..." Mr. Gold trailed and Belle got the distinct feeling that he wanted to say more.

"Thank you...thank you so much...for coming I mean," Belle flubbed still feeling ridiculously light hearted and near dizzy with happiness.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world my dear Belle... Now, have a wonderful rest of the day and I will see you on Thursday."

"You too...and I look forward to it...goodbye."

She ended the call and clutched the phone to her chest. Something so silly should not make her act like a love struck high schooler, like...well, Emma, but it just couldn't be helped. She did a little dance, finally put her phone back into her pocket and back into the dress shop.

It was going to be a great day indeed!

"Mrs. Potts, clear my schedule Thursday and send in the B..." Mr. Gold paused, his finger still on the intercom button to his secretary, "Send in Regina," he amended and released the button.

"Yes, of course Mr. Gold..."

Mr. Gold sat back in his chair at his desk in the Baelfire Consulting, he had received the email that brought him hurtling back to Boston on his jet earlier that morning, just after breakfast with Belle. That short little email, the five little letters meant he had to return, it meant opening up the office on the weekend and calling in Mrs. Potts. It meant coming back like a puppet on a string for his damn employee, and how he had come to hate her and that damn little short email...

I know.

He was tired and entirely irritable over having to be here, over having to deal with this ...vapid and annoying problem. She bored him. She grated him. He loathed her.

She also happened to be the most heartless, unfeeling, and best downsizer in his company. She had no heart and no remorse. She could shut down an entire plant or downsize a department without so much as a qualm. She was thorough, detailed oriented, brutal, unsympathetic and almost enjoyed being cruel.

He had been like her once, after losing Milah. In fact it wasn't all that long after Milah that he had found, hired and trained a young Regina Mills straight out of college. He groomed her to be the downsizer. He had seen quite clearly her potential and the seeds of a ruthless corporate executioner. She had exceeded his hopes and had stayed with him longer than he would have at first guessed. Most of those that did her job burned out after 10 years. It caught up with them and they quit, went mad or became hermits. It was the curse of the job. One usually could only tear out the hearts of human beings for so long before it tore apart their own.

Not Regina though. Oh no, she was in the for the long road. He believed that if it were possible she would be the one to fire him from his own company. That was impossible though. He made sure of that, just in case. Mr. Gold was a cautious and meticulous man after all and he took no unnecessary or excessive risk.

"Mr. Gold...it's been a while!" Regina came through his office door a Cheshire grin on her heavily painted face.

Mr. Gold didn't rise or answer her, only waved to one of the chairs before his desk. He knew Regina like dramatic costumes. All black or dark grey suits, heavy make-up, brutal high heels and very loud accessories.

"Back from your little trip to see that little girl with the book shop, hmm Gold?"

Mr. Gold looked at her with a sneer, "Regina what gives you impression that I tolerate that kind of disrespectful address from my employees?"

Regina grinned and gave a one shouldered shrug, "Oh, but I'm not just an employee Gold. I'm your best employee. I'm fantastic and you know it. I'm also good enough to know that your little dalliance with this Belle French is at best a conflict of interest... Also that you buying up all the assets that are supposed to be going to auction is most assuredly a violation of ethics. What are you thinking Gold? What does this little girl have over you, hm?" she leaned forward both hands resting on his desk.

Mr. Gold struggled to hide his surprise. He was never caught off guard, he always was five steps ahead.

Always.

Except today. How much did she know? That this sniveling witch was trying to blackmail him was making him feel violent.

He had bought the antique items that Lumière and Cogsworth had priced. He had paid top of the estimate using his independent company Dark Castle Antiquities Ltd. The company wasn't exactly a shell company, he had created it apart from Baelfire and held it entirely in his name. No board, no overseers or holders. It had originally been for tax benefits when he was purchasing items for his own extensive collection.

The purchased items from Belle were sitting in his temperature controlled, security guarded warehouse owned by Dark Castle Antiquities on the outskirts of Boston. There should have been no conceivable way Regina could know about that warehouse let alone what he was housing there.

"Were you somehow under the impression Ms. Mills that you were in any way associated with our client, Rupert Gaston? Because you are not, in any way. Not only are you not in any way involved with that client you have no business making any accusation regarding my personal conduct."

Regina arched a dark eyebrow, "Oh, is that so? Well Gold I think the board will be interested in what the CEO of Baelfire is doing, especially when it's potentially rooking a very affluent client out of money. You don't think they'd be interested in knowing that you're making eyes at the owner of the business you're supposed to be liquidating? Not interested in you buying up the assets and looking into purchasing the business yourself? Come now Mr. Gold, you think there isn't questionable ethics there? An extreme conflict of interest? Representing a client, taking on that client and vowing with all of your professional integrity to work for his best interests then sweeping up the assets you convinced him to liquidate? Oh, there is no court in the country that wouldn't find out you guilty of a hundred different things including anti-trust. Tsk, tsk..."

Mr. Gold was livid. His body was nearly shaking with his anger. How had she found out about it? Where was the leak, there had to be a leak! A spy! Something! Oh he was going to filet the son of a bitch when he found them.

"I believe you should leave my office and my building before I call security Ms. Mills," he ground out through clinched teeth.

Regina didn't appear rattled in the slightest, "Tick-tock Mr. Gold, whatever shall you do?" she laughed loudly, sardonically.

She rose and flitted out of the room with dramatic flair. Mr. Gold glowered at the door as it closed behind her.

Sunday the shop was closed and Belle found herself alone in her apartment humming as she took turns both cleaning and reading a book. It was her way of talking herself into cleaning, for every chore she completed she rewarded herself with a chapter. Yes, it took all day to complete what should only take a couple hours but it made the hated task of cleaning much more tolerable.

She couldn't keep her mind from wandering to Mr. Gold however, which was greatly impeding her progress. She couldn't keep focused on the words or the laundry she was supposed to be folding. She was falling for him, she finally allowed her self to confess totally. She didn't know exactly when she had allowed it to cross from tolerance to friendship and from friendship to...to this happy joy that was taking up her body. She thought about him constantly. It was far too early to call it real love, obviously, but she was now acknowledging to herself that she wanted that. She wanted a chance with Mr. Gold.

Talking, well confessing really, to Mary Margaret had really made her face things. She was falling for the man and even with all the complications, with all obstacles and detriments she was still willing to try.

Maybe it was fate. She did not want to lose her shop, not at all and she was still fighting with all she had to maybe keep it, but she couldn't ignore the thought that maybe fate had different plants for her. Other than her friends...and her father, the shop was the only thing tying her to Storybrooke. She came home because that was where her life was before college. She hadn't had anything tying her to New York, that wasn't home, she wasn't a big city gal at all.

But she maybe could be.

For Mr. Gold. If he wanted her to be. If he wanted her and they ended up maybe having a future she could adapt to Boston. She didn't desire the big, flashy life like his ex-wife to seemed to have, but she wouldn't refuse it if that was what she needed to do, to be with him.

Maybe it was fate that brought them together. If she had to lose her shop, if she had to recreate her life...maybe she would at least get the chance at true love in return.

But she was getting away from herself!

She didn't even know his first name!

She threw herself onto her bed and buried her head in a pillow. This was all just positively childish and she was absolutely losing her mind.

Oh but he was handsome in those suits... A girl still, no matter what, always had her imagination and dreams...and this girl had always loved a man in a suit.

Mr. Gold left the office not long after he had dismissed Regina and headed for his home in the historic and ritzy part of Boston. He pulled through the massive gates driving another rented Jaguar.

He drove the long driveway lined with tall cherry trees and rolling green lawn until he reached the circular drive that held a massive fountain at it's center. He parked the car almost directly in front of massive entry, retrieved his suitcase and entered the dark premises.

He kept no staff though a household service came through daily when he was in residence and collected the laundry, cleaned, replaced groceries and did whatever lists Mr. Gold left out. He liked his privacy.

He enjoyed the cooking, it relaxed his mind and aside from that there were no other needs he had that could possibly require assistance. He gloried in his solitude.

Or, he had.

He left his things by the door, they would be seen to by the service in the morning, and climbed the massive spiral staircase to the third floor where his bedroom was. He was never quite sure why he had purchased a home with so many stairs considering his leg but he couldn't imagine a home otherwise outfitted.

His 'room' was of course a suite of rooms consisting of a study with an adjacent personal library, bedroom, sitting room, en suite and a walk in dressing room.

It was into the dressing room that he first went, stripping off his Spencer Hart suit systematically. He had always prided himself on being well dressed. Every person had a part he or she played and that part deserved a coordinating suit of armor or, costume if you were. His armor had always been his suits.

He laid his suit and shirt out for the cleaners, hung up his tie and put away his pocket square, he lined his dress shoes up with the rest of the many pairs then rolled off his socks and put them with the rest of laundry.

In nothing but his undershirt and boxers he left his cane against the center dressing table and exited to the large white marble, glass and stainless bathroom.

He turned the water to scalding, stripped the last clothing from his body and stepped under the spray. He stood there stock still, water rushing down over him and jets hit his back massaging at his tense muscles. Further specially designed therapeutic jets at a lower placement on the wall hit his leg at the knee and thigh helping to ease the throbbing, dull ache.

The water continued to saturate him and he felt the tensions in his body ease while his mind reeled and his chest constricted.

What was he doing? He had lost his mind. He was half in love with a girl nearly half his age. He couldn't get her out of his mind. She was a constant presence right there, wrapping herself around his heart like a many thorned rose, gorgeous but harmful in the most dangerous of ways.

He was falling for her quickly and maddeningly. He thought about her smile, her laugh, the way those beautiful eyes danced. He calmness and her rational, beautiful kindness. Her acceptance of things but the absolute unwavering desire to fight for what she wanted.

She was graceful and sweet.

Kind. Compassionate and so incredibly giving.

She was very antithesis of Milah, the only other women he had ever loved.

This made her dangerous. He had picked beautiful Milah in his young ignorance, picked his prize without looking at her heart. Belle had heart and beauty and the older, wiser Gold relished her freshness, the breath of fresh air on his cold stagnate soul. She was everything wonderful and pure.

He finally reached for the bar of rough Scottish soap. It lacked refinement and it smelled of clean musk and sandalwood, so totally without frill. It cost a scant couple of dollars but the man that could afford to bathe with liquid gold if he chose, preferred the soap of his childhood, of his father and his grandfather.

He rubbed the soap between his hands until it lathered and thought on his newest problems, aside from his Belle.

The fact was he knew when he instructed his bank to transfer the funds for the purchase of the Belle's items that he was operating in shady territory. He hadn't cared though. All that mattered was that her items were not lost to her. That they not go to one or many buyers that would scatter them. He had paid more than fairly for all of it, he was something of collector and he knew he was more than generous.

It was still a conflict of interest.

He scrubbed his torso vigorously.

How had Regina known he was putting out feelers regarding the avenues for the purchase of My Father's Shop? He had been discreet and only had dealt with people he strongly trusted. Perhaps his mistake had been to hide it.

Yet, it had been his only option. He couldn't stop the sell, his duty was still black and white to his client, even if he despised him. To approach Gaston about allowing the outright purchase of it would surely bring up questions about his objectivity...not to mention he figured Gaston would try and take him for ever last penny once he knew that it was he that wanted it.

He soaped his hair.

His biggest consideration had been of course, Belle. Concern for her feelings, her well being...her keeping her pride, she had become his driving force.

If she knew he was conspiring to buy her business and its things would she hate him? Would she think he was making her a charity case if he tried to give it to her? He doubted she would accept an outright gift.

He tipped his head under the water to rinse.

He felt like a completely love struck teen age dope. Flowers, candy for a girl he liked? Oh no, he wanted to buy her business out from under, wipe her debts and present it like scribbled valentine. Oh that was just sad and pathetic.

The water was still scalding hot and he relished it. The little rivers of hot water cascading down his muscles, heating and loosening the rigid tightness. He tipped his head side to side massaging his tense neck.

He couldn't sell it back to her, even if it saved her pride it would create an odd dynamic between them. He couldn't hold a price against her and pursue her. No, that wasn't an option. He didn't want to lie to her and let her buy it from Dark Castle either.

No, he couldn't have bought her things publicly and he absolutely couldn't buy the business and building publicly but if he did it under shadow as he was attempting to now he had a law suit waiting to happen thanks to the witch Regina, not mention it did chafe his better sense of propriety and ethics. He might do dastardly work at times but he was always up front about it, always true.

He turned off the shower finally, reached for a big, fluffy, Egyptian cotton towel from the heated towel bar just outside of the glass shower cubicle and wrapped it around his waist.

He dried the dripping rivulets along his face and arms and awkwardly made his way to the marble vanity.

His reflection in the mirror stared back at him as he combed back his hair. His eyes were bright with weary, the lines seemed deeper today and skin though still pink from scrubbing and the hot water it held a sallow tinge. He felt his age, he looked his age.

He finished his toilette and changed from his towel into clean boxers and silk pajamas. He might be missing Belle and the cozy inn and maybe even the small quaintness of Storybrooke and its company but he was glad to be back in his own, superior bed with space to breathe and silence to think.

He pulled back the dark grey bedding and climbed in happy to be off his throbbing leg. Tomorrow was another day and he would tackle his problems anew.

As Mr. Gold tossed and turned in his oversized bed on the verge of wakefulness and sleep his mind drifted to a young man that had eyes that reminded him so much of the eyes that had just been looking back at him in the mirror. The eyes of the Gold men.

Maybe someday, perhaps, if he could figure out how to win Belle he might have a son, a son with his eyes and his Belle's beautiful smile.

Maybe.

Someday.

I know! Over a month...I'm sorry! I have reasons, promise...but none of them very good. There was Christmas...and New Years...a new found obsession of Doctor Who... Interviews for a new job. A succession of power outages thanks to bloody awful weather... So, so many reasons! But...here it is, I hope you enjoyed! We introduced Regina, dun dun dunnnnnnn! It was also a nice longer chapter too...

Oh! And SO MANY DAMN FEELS over this week's episode. Just flippin' sayin'. I won't spoil it for those that haven't seen it, but I will express by saying there are FEELS!

AND THANK YOU TO MY FANTASTIC REVIEWERS! Seriously, I was a bit depressed for a while over my OUaT stories, your reviews totally bolster me. I don't write for a living, I write for pleasure and to sate my desire for writing (pun couldn't be avoided) wrongs and creating happy little alternatives...and your reviews and favorites and follows encourage me. So truly, do appreciate it. These stories are a labor of love. I don't always get to replying straight away, but I mean to and I will...

Until next time... Lots of Love -RA