Day three. Belle was determined not to give it and quit. Maybe she would outlast even the longest lasting secretary even if it was just by a day. Thus far, she'd outlasted the last one.

Nine A.M., she walked into Mr. Gold's office bearing a tea tray with two cups. Gold watched as she prepared the his tea at the right side of his desk.

He took a sip and waved his hand, "Go on, the other cup is for you. I'm not that thirsty."

"Yes Mr. Gold," her patience renewed this morning, Belle made the second cup and pulled a chair next to him. She crossed one leg over the other.

Gold took his ever present cane, gold handled and quite serious looking, in his right hand and tapped her foot.

"Do not sit like that, with your leg thrown over the other. Sit with your ankles crossed beneath your chair," he snapped.

Belle took a breath and switched her legs, "Better?" she asked.

He gave her a long look, eyes tracking across her body, making her feel exposed and small, "Much."

She sat up straighter and pulled her shoulders down, she would be brave. She silently sipped her tea.

He nodded, "very nice."

She fixed her eyes ahead, not looking at him. They sat in silence a moment before he said, "Really dearie, is it so bad? I suppose I am. They do call me the beast."

"And you will see, if you don't already now. You'll run like the rest," he said.

"It's a pity, really, you are very promising," he said.

"They are taking bets on you, downstairs, how long the beautiful young thing will last with the beast. How long it takes before you flee- or before I eat you alive," he said.

"I believe," she set her empty cup down on the tray, "You've already done that."

He was surprised, "Aye, I suppose I have."

"Is there anything else?" she asked as she collected the tea things.

"No, dearie, you can go."

"Yes Mr. Gold," she said and exited.

Jefferson was sitting on her desk.

"Where were you?" he asked.

"Serving Mr. Gold his morning tea," Belle said.

Jefferson was confused, "How long does it take to give him tea? I've been sitting here twenty minutes."

"He requested I take tea also. I don't know why," sighed Belle.

"He… wants you… to drink tea… with him?" the odd man asked, setting his top hat on the desk.

"Mm hm," Belle fiddled with the brim.

Jefferson's eyes shifted from the secretary to the office door and back to Belle, "Okay, well I need to talk to the boss man again, about his solid state drive."

Belle nodded. Jefferson stormed into the office and slammed the door.

"You like her!" he whisper-yelled, "You really really like her!"

"What are you talking about? Why are you even here?" Mr. Gold said.

"You like Belle!" Jefferson crowed, "And do you know how I know? You don't like people, generally. True, there are some exceptions, like me and Grace and you can handle Emma Swan every once and a while, but normally, you hate people. And, morning tea is your nice, quiet, alone time when no one is supposed to bother you and you can be alone and think about ways to make people hate you or whatever it is you do."

"So, why would you want her to have tea with you? You've never invited your secretaries to take tea with you! Normally it's 'don't let the door hit you on the way out, dearie,'" he continued.

"It is a quaint theory, but wrong. You see, Madden, I like to collect beautiful things, and Miss French is beautiful. She is trying so hard not to lose her patience. But, alas, I do not 'like' Miss French as you insist."

"Me thinks thou protest too much," was the reply.

"Why are you here again?" Gold asked.

"I did come to pester you for Regina's number, I want to practice my prank calling this weekend," Jefferson said, "But now I have a new directive! Getting the girl to fall for her arse of a boss."

"No."

"Yes!" and Jefferson skipped out the door.

Mr. Gold sighed. Belle falling in love with him would never happen. And even if she ever did fancy him, it would only be a for a fleeting moment. She would leave, or turn against him- they always did.

He pushed the com. He would, at least, enjoy her while he could.

Belle walked across the room, "Yes Mr. Gold?"

He waved at the book shelves that lined the walls, "Organize my books by color Miss French."

She spent the rest of the day in his office, bending and stretching to order the books how he requested. Her chest felt tight as he watched her. He made no comment, which was worse than any insult he could have thrown her way. Words were hollow, but not his eyes.

It was past seven before she finished. Mr. Gold walked around the room, leaning heavily on his cane, as he observed her work. He stopped so they were standing inches apart; she could feel the warmth of his body.

"Well done, Miss French," he said and reached up, as if to touch her. As if he was going to gently cup her face. He stopped only a hair's breath from her skin and withdrew. Belle let the breath she hadn't realized she was holding out.

"You may leave," he said.

"Goodnight," she whispered and departed.

…

Day four was uneventful. Uneventful in the way that Gold still pulled the same crap, but she was expecting it. In the morning he asked her what types of books she preferred. In the afternoon he made her sit beside him and read his mail to him. In the evening, Emma Swan stopped by to say hello.

What Belle didn't know was that she was the topic of conversation for Jefferson and Emma at lunch.

"Why do you want me to eat lunch in the dungeon?" Emma asked Jefferson.

"Hi Tink," she said to Tinker Isabelle Fae, Tinker Belle or Tink, for short.

"Don't call it the dungeon," Jefferson scolded, "It's home. And you are here because I made a list of people Mr. Gold does not hate and that list is you and me and Belle French. But this is about Belle French, so she can't be here."

"Why are we having a meeting about Gold's secretary? Has she quit yet?" Emma asked.

"No, nothing like that. Gold has a crush on her," Jefferson said.

"Ha! That's a good one Madden," Emma snorted, "What's this really about? Does Grace want to have another play date with Henry? Because you know I don't have custody yet. You'll have to talk to Regina."

"You two would be a cute couple, you should ask her out," Jefferson said, "But, back to Gold. I am not joking, he has it bad for Belle."

"Say I did believe you, what does this have to do with me?" Emma took a bite of her sandwich.

"I just want you to talk to Belle, figure out where she is in all of this," he said, "Then we can plan our next steps."

"One," Emma held up a finger, "There is no us, I am not getting fired over your crazy matchmaker scheme. And two, how am I supposed to talk to Belle about this? It's not like the lunch room's very private."

Jefferson shrugged, "Take her out for ice cream or something. I know you like that ice cream parlor Frozen. And the owner, Elsa, isn't too bad either."

Emma grinned, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Fast forward several hours to that evening. Emma approached Belle's desk.

"Um, Hi Belle, how are you?" she said.

"Fine, thank you. Mr. Gold is on the phone but is there something I can help you with?"

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you actually, not Gold. I don't want to talk to Gold."

"Yes?"

"Do you want to go get some ice cream next Monday at lunch? There's this great place across the street called Frozen and you can never have enough ice cream!" Emma said, then laughed nervously.

"Okay," Belle nodded, "That sounds like fun, although it is a bit chilly for ice cream. Shall we meet out front at one?"

"Sounds good! But, I mean, the cold never really bothered me anyway," Emma said and all but ran out of the outer office.

…

Day five. Friday. It had been a week since Rumold Gold and Belle French first met at that fated night club. Belle was wearing a black blouse and brown skirt. Mr. Gold sniffed when she entered with the tea.

"You look better in gold. Or blue," he said as she sat down beside him, "blue would bring out your eyes. But brown is dull."

"Thank you? I think," Belle said.

"Never wear orange."

"Alright. Neither should you."

"Obviously."

With that their conversation grew quiet and after a half hour, Belle carried the tray back to her desk. The com buzzed as she set it down. Sighing, she walked back into the office, wondering what fresh hell Gold was going to deliver.

"Yes Mr. Gold?"

"Down the hall is a supply closet, go fetch me a box of pencils," he instructed.

"Yes Mr. Gold," she said.

What Gold did not mention was if the closet was down the right side of the hall or the left. His office was in the center of the building. Belle went right and chose a door at random.

"Oh! Excuse me!" Belle exclaimed. She had opened the door of a small office where a greasy-looking man with a but of stubble sat behind a desk.

"I was looking for the supply closet," Belle explained, "Sorry!"

"Not a problem," the man said getting up, "I can show you where it is. Keith Nottingham, by the way."

"Belle French, pleased to meet you."

"Oh the pleasure in mine," he said, and pulled open a door, "Here's the closet you were looking for."

"Thank you!" Belle said, stepping inside to grab a box of pencils. But when she turned Keith was standing in the door way, one hand on each side of the door frame, blocking her in.

"Excuse me, can I get by?" Belle asked.

"Oh I don't think you want to do that, you see, I have a lot of power here. I can get you fired with just a word," Keith sneered.

"I don't think you can," Belle said, "Now can I please get by?"

"You're a feisty one-"

"What is going on here?" a familiar voice interrupted.

"Mr. Gold!" Keith turned and Belle darted out from under his arm, "I was just showing this girl the supply closet."

"I'll bet you were, go back to my office, Belle," he said.

Once she was out of sight, Gold grabbed Keith Nottingham by the arm and swung him against the wall. In a swift motion he pined his cane against his throat. Keith choked.

"If I ever see you near her again I will end you, understand?" Gold hissed, "And if I find out you hurt her today, I will hurt you ten times worse than you can even imagine."

"Ooh does someone have a new toy?" Keith managed to cough out before Gold pressed harder on his jugular, "Stay way from her."

He pushed him down, onto the ground and walked back to his office. Belle stood in the center, looking nervous.

"Mr. Gold, I can explain-" she started.

Gold held up a hand, silencing her.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked, a quiet force behind his words. He reached up a tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"No, he didn't touch me," Belle said.

Mr. Gold nodded, "He won't bother you again. If he does, if he so much as takes the same elevator as you, tell me. Understood?"

Belle nodded.