The com buzzed, summoning Belle into his office. The walk was long, so long, into Mr. Gold's desk.

"Yes Mr. Gold?" she asked.

He didn't bother to look at her, only said, "Take off your panties and come sit on my lap."

"Mr. Gold?" Belle questioned, heart pounding.

"Did I stutter?" he snapped, turning to her and hold out his hand.

Belle pulled her underwear down and stepped out of of them. She handed them to Gold and he tucked the scrap of fabric in his jacket pocket.

"Face forward, dearie," he said as settled onto his lap, "and spread you legs."

Belle sat, legs startling his lap, her back to his front as he instructed. Mr. Gold brushed away her hair and kissed the back of her neck.

"Good girl," he whispered, then spun back to his desk and began working again.

One hand on the mouse, the other moved between her legs. He spread her already wet folds and began to stroke her clit. Belle moaned and arched, head back on his shoulder. He hummed into the curve of her neck, planted little kisses along her skin and dipped two fingers inside her.

"Please, please," Belle begged, writhing against him.

"What is it, Miss French?" he said, pumping his fingers in and out, scissoring them to spread her wider.

Belle felt herself edge closer to her breaking point. She moaned-

-and woke up.

Belle groaned and rolled over, flushed and aroused. She burred her face in her hands and tried to slow her race heart by focusing on the sound of the rain against her window.

She didn't like him, she really didn't, that would only complicate matters. He was horrid, a jerk, cruel, arrogant, stuck up.

What she had intended to say, that first morning was, "If I'd have known what a cruel bastard you were I would have never have slept with you!"

But Mary Margret had spoiled the whole thing. (It was probably for the better, she needed this job.)

It was like he was two different people, Jekyll and Hyde, Rumold and Gold. Rumold- sweet and passionate, hiding from his blind date and playing with her hair as they ate breakfast. Mr. Gold- sharp and cold, his gaze searing into her, making her perform nonsense tasks over and over again.

Belle couldn't stop thinking about him, all of him. She craved him, craved Rumold, craved Gold.

She groaned into her pillow. This was not supposed to happen.

Belle woke the next day to a pounding on her door.

"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" Ruby called from the outside.

"Ruby, she's probably asleep," Archie said.

"I don't care! She needs to get up! I have been waiting all night to tell her!" Ruby whined.

Belle, wrapped in her robe, pulled open the door, "It's seven in the morning on a Saturday. What is it?"

"Belle! You're awake! Yay!" Ruby cheered and pushed past her friend.

Archie smiled sympatheticly, "We brought breakfast."

A few minutes later, eating pancakes in Belle's living room, Belle asked, "So, why'd you wake me up way to early on a Saturday?"

"Well..." Ruby and Archie grabbed hands in a cutesy fashion, "We're going to have a baby!"

"What? Ruby! Archie! That's great!" Belle cried, hugging her friends, "When did you find out?"

"Last night," Archie said, "But it was too late to tell you."

"I didn't think it was too late," Ruby said.

"Ruby, it was three am," Archie scolded.

"Well... I was excited. And, Belle, Archie's going to make me an honest woman! Would you be my maid of honor?"

"Of course, Ruby. I'm so happy for you!" Belle giggled.

"So what are you up to today?" Archie asked, "Now that you're awake."

Belle paused a moment before answering, "Same thing I do every other Saturday, I'm going to go visit my dad."

…

It was three subway transfers and a two block walk from Belle's apartment to the rehabilitation center where her father was living. The building was tall and sterile, the interior sparingly in varying shades of white. (Perhaps she was being romantic, there really was only one shade of white.) It was a bleak, bright place ans she often heard screaming echoing down the long corridors.

She hated going there.

But it was where her father had lived for the past year, as he was enrolled in their program for recovering drug addicts. Moe French was addicted to a rare drug called Fairy Dust. It could only be purchased from a crime syndicate known as The Praedictas Fatales. The Praedictas Fatales were the most vicious and ruthless gang in New York City.

Moe's time in the center was not cheap, nor was his mounting debts to The Praedictas Fatales, which Belle struggled to pay each month. That was why the job at Gold Books was a heaven sent. It was horrid, and not at all in her field- she had a bachelors in English literature and writing with dreams of becoming a novelist- but it paid and paid well.

She had made the off handed comment in her interview with Mary Margret, that at the rate they were offering she said she might as well be selling her soul. Mary Margret didn't laugh.

Belle crossed the visitor hall to the far table where her father sat. She pulled out one of uncomfortable white plastic chairs and joined him.

"Hello father," she said quietly, "How are you?"

"I'd be better if I wasn't stuck in this hell hole," Moe grumbled.

"They say you're making progress," Belle said, "I'm sure you'll get discharged soon."

Moe grunted in reply.

"I started a new job," Belle offered after a moment.

"Oh really? Got enough to pay off the Praedictas Fatales?" Moe asked.

"I'm making the payments," she said shortly.

"Man, I can't wait to get out of here and get back to my apartment."

"Father, I told you, I couldn't pay the rent for both our apartments and this facility and the Praedictas Fatales," Belle sighed, "I would have moved into your apartment, but the rent was too high."

"But you have a new job, you'll get it back right? My apartment?" he prodded.

"Father, I can't. I can barely make ends meet as it is."

"Hmph," he paused before saying, "It was nice seeing you today."

Belle knew this was her queue to leave, "I'll see you in two weeks, Father."