THE BILLIONAIRE SECRET HOUSE KEEPER

Belle French sat in a back room in a small precinct office of the New York Police Department. She had been on her lunch break when it happened. Her father always warned her of taking short cuts through alleyways but she figured it was during the day, the streets were busy – what could possibly happen?

She was halfway through the alley when she heard voices: a man and a woman arguing. She hid behind a trash bin, too afraid to even move. She could hear every word they were saying. The man and woman stepped out into the main alleyway and she saw them clearly. The woman had a gun – she pulled it out and shot the man, and he fell to the ground. Startled, Belle stumbled and made a noise. The woman turned around, and she locked eyes with Belle. And Belle ran. To Belle's surprise, the woman didn't chase her. But Belle knew that the woman recognized her immediately.

Maurice French moved himself and his daughter Belle to New York when Belle was fifteen years old. He was a successful business mogul in Melbourne, Australia, and wanted to expand his business, and knew that the best way to do that was to move to the states. He chose to settle in New York with Belle. He was the owner and CEO of French's, a large department store that had locations throughout the globe. He had hoped that Belle would take some interest in his business, and when she was sixteen she started working at his offices. Belle, however, had other aspirations. She enjoyed reading and studying and wanted to go to school and study, of all things, library science. Maurice – Moe to his friends and family – wasn't happy with the prospect of his daughter earning the meager living of a librarian. She was an heiress – she was certainly meant for better things than that. But Belle had her own mind, which Moe realized very early on. Able to afford whatever she desired, Belle was able to obtain her Bachelor and Masters degrees in Library Science. She worked at the New York Public Library and was one of the administrators at their largest branch in Manhattan.

The petite blonde looked quite a bit younger than her thirty years of age, and would often still get recognized on the streets of New York. During her late teens, she did a bit of modeling for the ads and commercials for her father's store. Several of those ads made their way to Times Square, and Belle's face was seen on billboards throughout the city. She was "The Face of French's" as the media called her. Belle was a stunningly beautiful young lady, but she had no aspirations for modeling or fame or any of that. She only did the ads as a favor to her father. She often regretted doing so, because it was a legacy that had become difficult to escape. And this legacy was one that she regretted as she met the gaze of the murderous woman.

All she had wanted was a quick bite to eat and a cup of coffee before returning to work for the day. And now she was trapped in a police station. After witnessing the shooting, Belle stopped the first police officer she could find, and was taken to the nearest precinct. She was asked to look through several books of mug shots to identify the woman, and was stunned to find the woman's picture among them. The moment she identified the woman she saw in the alley, she was whisked into a back room. The room had no windows and only a small light. They took her purse and there was no telephone or any means of communication in the room. She was told to wait, and someone would be in to talk to her. She waited for what seemed like hours until finally someone entered.

"Hi – I'm David Nolan, I'm with the Federal Bureau of Investigation." the man said to Belle.

"The FBI? What's going on?" Belle asked nervously. David sat down and motioned for Belle to do the same.

"The woman that you identified – had you ever seen her before today?" David asked.

"No. Never." Belle said. "Who is she?"

"Regina Mills." David said. "We've been trying to get her for years. She heads an organized crime syndicate here in New York, and we suspect she has locations in Boston, Philadelphia, and possibly D.C. Problem is we have no proof of criminal activity. Until now. You're positive that she saw you?"

"Yes. She saw me. I'd say she recognized me too from the look on her face." Belle said.

"Right – the face of French's, I remember that ad." David said. "Miss French – are you willing to testify, in court, to what you heard Regina Mills say, and that you saw her kill Graham Humbert?"

"Is that the man's name?" Belle asked.

"He was a fed. He was working undercover for Regina for the past three months, was coming close to getting evidence of RICO violations, and I think she caught on. He was a good man." David said. "Your testimony can help us put her away. But if she saw you – you could be in danger. We do have a means to protect you though. Have you ever heard of the Witness Protection Program?"

"You mean – I have to start a new life somewhere? What about my family, my friends, my job?" Belle asked.

"Unfortunately – they can't contact you and you can't contact them. Miss French, once Regina is brought to trial and her entire syndicate is brought down, you can return to your life." David said.

"But if you catch her, then why -"

"Unfortunately, Miss French – based on what Agent Humbert reported before he died, Regina Mills isn't the ringleader of this syndicate as we originally thought. There's someone else – and he was close to finding out who that someone was. Too close, apparently. So even if we got Regina – your life would still be in danger. As would your family, friends – anyone close to you." David said.

"How long will it take?" Belle asked.

"We already have another agent on it. Two of them, actually. It could be months or – years." Belle remained quiet for a moment. "Miss French – this crime syndicate has been on our radar for over a decade. They're very smart, and they're very careful. You're the first person, ever, to witness a crime in action that's actually survived. We need your help. People have died, Miss French. Innocent people – too many to even count." David told her.

"Can I at least say goodbye to my father?" Belle asked.

"We can let him know that you're safe, but that's it. I'm sorry." David said. "If you were married or had underage children there is precedent for them to be protected along with you, but – well that's not the case."

"Well I don't really have much of a choice, do I?" Belle asked. "So now what?"

"Well – one of our agents will be here in a bit to get you moved and settled once the arrangements are finalized. You'll get a new name, new job, new look – we'll probably have to have your hair dyed a darker color, you're too recognizable with the blonde hair. We've got a secure hotel room to take you to for now until all of the details are set. Are you ready to go?" David asked.

"I suppose I have to be." Belle said. At that moment, she really wished she had brought her lunch from home that day.

Belle sat bored out of her mind for nearly two days in the hotel room, which was not at all up to the standard she was used to. She was used to four and five star accommodations. This hotel was sub-par at best, the television had five channels and nothing worth watching. She wasn't permitted to have a phone, a computer, or any form of contact with the outside world, other than the girl who came into the room the day before to dye her hair brown and take some photos, presumably for her new ID.

Detective Nolan was there every day as well – he was nice enough and would bring her meals to her, and he even managed to wrangle a few books for her to read, but being an avid reader she poured through those in no time. Finally, after growing quite impatient, David knocked on her door and appeared with another woman. Belle let them in.

"Belle, this is Emma Swan. She's one of the agents assigned to the case, and she's going to get you settled in your new life. She's one of our best – you're in good hands." David said. "Good luck, and hopefully this won't be for long."

"Oh it won't be, not if I have anything to say about it." Emma replied. David left, and Emma sat down on a chair. "So – you're an heiress, huh?"

"Something like that." Belle replied. "I don't have to worry about things, if that's what you mean, my father is there for me when I need him. Has anyone contacted him yet?"

"He got a message. Can't give you any more detail, sorry." Emma said.

"What about my job?" Belle asked.

"It's taken care of. That's all you need to know." Emma replied. "Listen, I'm really sorry about this – I know this sucks, and it's not your fault, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it'll be worth it. These are bad people. You're doing a good thing – you're really being a hero." Emma had been carrying an envelope and she handed it to Belle. "This has all of the details of your new identity. Give it a look." Belle opened the envelope. She glanced at it and made a face.

"Lacey Woods? THAT'S my new name? Who came up with that?" Belle asked.

"Someone in the department. Get used to it, that's what you'll be using from here on." Emma said.

"It sounds like the name you'd give a prostitute. That's – not my new job, is it?" Belle asked. Emma laughed.

"No. No, we needed to get you settled somewhere that's a bit – remote. Even with the dark hair you might still be recognized by some. It was pretty tricky but – I called in a favor and got you set up in a pretty decent setting. I've got a private plane ready to leave in two hours – let's go." Emma said.

"Where are we going?" Belle asked.

"A little town in Maine called Storybrooke." Emma replied.

Emma drove the car down a long, seemingly deserted road until they finally reached what appeared to be a large estate guarded by golden gates. Emma drove up to the intercom and entered some numbers, and the gates opened, then closed as she pulled the car in. "What is this place?" Belle asked curiously.

"Your new home." Emma said. Belle looked around in awe. The grounds were a shambles – nothing had been kept up but she could tell it was once beautiful.

"It's not haunted, is it?" Belle asked.

"Depends on your definition of haunted." Emma said. "It'll be fine." After driving down an endless driveway, they finally reached the estate. It was huge – a gothic castle, in the middle of Maine. And it was pink.

"A pink castle?" Belle asked.

"Salmon. Don't call it pink, he'll have a fit." Emma said.

"He? Who's he?" Belle asked.

"The guy who lives here. Aka your new boss." Emma said as they reached the front door. "I bought some things for you, they've already been delivered to the house." Emma told her as they got out of the car and approached the front door. Emma knocked twice.

"Dracula's not going to answer, is he?" Belle asked.

"Pretty close." Emma replied. The door opened and Emma and Belle stepped inside.

"Miss Swan. Always a pleasure." the man with the Scottish brogue said. He was a short man, with long hair. He wore a very expensive suit and held a cane with a golden handle in his right hand.

"Right. Sure it is." Emma said.

"I believe this favor makes my debt to you complete." he said.

"For now." Emma replied. The man looked Belle up and down.

"I suppose she'll do." he said, as Belle eyed him nervously. Emma took something out of her pocket and handed it to Belle.

"This is a pre-programmed phone. It can only be used to contact me and no one else. Just dial zero and it reaches me directly. Call me if you have any problems or if you need anything. Mr. Gold here will take care of the rest. He knows everything – all the details of your – situation. He'll help you get settled. I'll check in on you periodically. I have to go – take care." Emma said.

"Um – wait, I just -" Belle began, but Emma quickly darted out the door. Belle stood in the foyer of the big house, looking around nervously. "So um - Mr. Gold, she said? That's your name?" Belle asked nervously.

"Yes." he replied.

"Do you um – have a first name?" she asked.

"I do." Gold replied.

"Would you like to tell me what it is?" Belle asked.

"Not particularly." Gold replied. "Are you going to stand there and gawk all day or should we get you settled then?"

"Okay." Belle said. "So um – I work for you then? What do you do?"

"I'm a businessman." Gold replied.

"What kind of business?" Belle asked.

"Mine." Gold replied curtly.

"Well, if I'm going to be your assistant I would think I should know some of the details." Belle said.

"You're not my assistant, dearie." Gold said. "Would you like to see your room?"

"Oh – okay." Belle said, becoming very uncomfortable. Belle looked up in awe at the winding staircase – well, if she had to live with this rude man, at least she'd be in a nice place. But Gold didn't head for the staircase. He instead led her through the kitchen and to a door that led downstairs. Belle followed him as he limped down the staircase. "The basement?! I have to stay in the BASEMENT?!" Belle shouted angrily.

"What did you expect, that you'd come here and be queen of the castle?" Gold asked.

"No but – princess, at least." Belle said.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you – Princess." Gold said in a cutting tone of voice. "You have all that you need down here – bed, living quarters, your own private bath, and full use of the kitchen."

"But this – this is a SERVANT'S quarters!" Belle exclaimed.

"Exactly." Gold said. "There are several uniforms in the closet, one of them should fit you fine."

"Uniforms? I'm sorry, what are you talking about?" Belle asked.

"Miss Swan didn't fill you in? Well, let me enlighten you. My former housekeeper, Miss Potts, decided to retire last month, and I needed a replacement. I owed Miss Swan a favor, and she asked me to take you on. So here you are." Gold said.

"I – I'm your MAID?" Belle asked.

"You will clean the entire estate, dust, vacuum, that sort of thing. You will also do my laundry - except for my suits, those are to be taken to the cleaners. I have a car for you and you will go into town once a week for grocery shopping and to the cleaners. You will receive a fair stipend for your own expenses and you have Tuesdays off to do as you like as long as it is within the city limits of Storybrooke, you are not to leave for your own safety. Oh, and you will do my cooking. Mrs. Potts left her recipe book in the kitchen with a list of my preferences. I work from home so you will not bother me during business hours. In fact – I prefer that you not bother me at all."

"So you want me to clean and cook for you? THAT'S my new job?" Belle asked. "I have a Masters Degree! I'm not a damned servant!"

"No, I'm sure that, pampered little princess that you are, you've never had to do any of these things. It's not rocket science, dearie, if you managed college you can manage to operate a few items of machinery. Any idiot can dust and run a vacuum and as for cooking – well I suppose you'll learn as you go. I'll have a caterer on stand-by for the first week just in case though." Gold said.

"I know how to cook." Belle retorted angrily.

"Wonderful. Shouldn't be a problem then. I expect my breakfast at 7:30 sharp, set the alarm early enough so that it's ready. I do have my meals catered on Tuesdays in case you were wondering, I don't bother with you on your day off." Gold said. "By the way – do you prefer that I call you Lacey, or Miss Woods?"

"My name is Belle." she replied.

"Not anymore." Gold said. "How about I just call you Princess? It seems to suit you." he said, spitting the words at her. "Seven thirty, Princess. Not a minute later. Good evening then." Gold ambled up the stairs. Belle walked over to the closet and opened it – she found several maid uniforms. She took one out and looked at it, then threw it onto the ground. She jumped on the bed face down and started to cry. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be back in New York at the library, and with her father and her friends. And this Mr. Gold – he was awful. He was rude, condescending, hateful – he was a beast. And as far as she knew, she could be stuck here with him forever.

The next morning, Belle's alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. She didn't want to be late with Mr. Gold's breakfast; he didn't seem like the type that would tolerate that sort of thing. After much crying over her situation the night prior, she resigned herself to accept it. After all, it might seem like it was going to be forever, but she knew it wouldn't be. And as Emma told her – she was being a hero. She had read so many stories about heroics over the years; but she never thought she'd be one herself. For that alone, she supposed she could tolerate this miserable man, Mr. Whatever-his-name-is Gold.

She showered and dressed in one of the maid uniforms – she chose the yellow one for that day, as they came in multiple colors, something that surprised her given that the rest of the castle was so – dark. Although the outside WAS pink – er, salmon as Emma had corrected her. For a man as mysterious as Mr. Gold, at least he had a bit of color in his life, however limited.

Belle glanced through the notes that his former housekeeper left. They were very detailed, with notes on everything from where the cleaning supplies were located to how Mr. Gold took his tea and coffee. She also left a precise list of what to purchase on her shopping runs. Belle may have been brought up in luxury but she was fully capable of taking care of herself. She had managed since she moved out of her father's house twelve years prior. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Mr. Gold was waiting at the dining room table at 7:30 a.m. sharp when Belle entered with his breakfast. She set it down in front of him, and he looked it over. "Well this looks fine, Princess."

"Be right back with the coffee." Belle said, and she went back into the kitchen and got the coffee pot. She poured it into his coffee cup, then left the room. Belle came back a few minutes later with her own plate, then sat down next to him at the table.

"What are you doing?" Gold asked incredulously.

"Eating breakfast." Belle said.

"Here? At my dining room table?" Gold asked.

"Where am I supposed to eat it?" Belle asked.

"Mrs. Potts always took her meals in her quarters. That is where you should take yours." Gold said.

"Downstairs? But the table is right here, why should I have to traipse down the stairs with a tray when I can just sit here with you? Besides – it's nice to have some company. Someone to chat with." Belle said.

"I don't chat, dearie. And I don't like company." Gold said.

"You don't ever have friends come to visit?" Belle asked.

"Anyone that comes here does so for business purposes only." Gold said.

"So you don't have friends. What about family?" Belle asked.

Gold looked up and glared at her, then continued to eat his breakfast.

"Girlfriend then?" Belle asked. Gold ignored her. "Boyfriend?" Gold scowled at her.

"Your job description, Princess, does NOT include playing Twenty Questions with me. It is to cook, to clean, and to shop for my daily needs. If I wanted to engage in pointless chatter I would get a parrot." Gold said.

"My name is BELLE. And there's no need to be rude. I was trying to be polite; something you're clearly incapable of. If I bother you so much then fine, I'll take my breakfast downstairs, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is Gold." Belle said angrily. She picked up her plate and stood up, and turned to walk away.

"Sit down, dearie." Gold said. Belle looked at him with surprise, and sat back down. "If you wish to have your breakfast here with me, then fine. But let's make a deal – if I feel like talking, I will start a conversation with you. Otherwise – we eat in silence."

"And what if I feel like talking? Then what?" Belle asked.

"Aren't you a librarian? Aren't librarians supposed to be quiet people? I agreed to let you stay here because that was my assumption but – apparently I assumed wrong." Gold said.

"Well you know what they say happens when you assume, don't you?" Belle asked, and she took another bite of her food.

"Quite mouthy too, aren't you Princess? No wonder you're still single at your age." Gold said. Fuming, Belle picked up her plate once again and stomped off, not once looking back at him. Gold finished the rest of his breakfast in silence. Which was exactly what he wanted in the first place.

Belle performed her household duties in silence for the rest of the day. Today was Friday – according to the work agenda left by Mrs. Potts, on Fridays she was to clean the foyer and the living room. She found the cleaning supplies and got to work. She brought Mr. Gold his lunch in his office as per instructions, and didn't say one word to him. That evening, after she had finished cleaning, she prepared his dinner. She was instructed that he took his dinner promptly at 6:30, and, right on time, he was waiting at the dining room table for it. Belle brought his plate out and set it in front of him.

"Thank you." Gold said, to her surprise. Belle did not respond, and turned to walk away. "Not going to speak to me then?" he asked.

"Thought you didn't want me to." Belle replied.

"Well, I don't but – it seems out of character for you now, especially after this morning. You may join me if you like." Gold said. "This time."

"Not interested." Belle replied, and she turned to walk away.

"That wasn't a request, Princess." Gold said.

"My name is BELLE." she spat at him. "It's not Lacey and it's not Princess, it's BELLE. I didn't ask for this to happen. I'm doing this job because I'm trying to help people, and for that I think I deserve respect at the very least. I don't have to put up with your attitude and your condescension toward me. You don't get to make judgments about me, Mr. Gold, because you know nothing about me at all. I certainly didn't judge you when I walked into this home and given its state and your obvious reclusiveness I had every right to. But I tried not to presume anything and I tried to be nice. Clearly, that's not something you want. And now all of a sudden you'll have my company as long as you order it? You can order me to do my work but not to keep company with you – as you made clear this morning, that's not part of my job. Leave your plate when you've finished, I'll clean it up after you've gone to bed. Good night – Mr. Gold." Belle stomped out of the room in a huff.

Gold stared in disbelief as he watched her storm out of the room. No one spoke to him that way. Not his business colleagues, and certainly not an employee of his. Who on earth did this girl think she was? But what bothered him the most wasn't the fact that she talked back to him – it was the fact that it didn't bother him at all.

The next morning, Belle served Mr. Gold his breakfast at 7:30 a.m. sharp, without uttering one word. She chose to wear a yellow uniform again that day. "Thank you." Gold said politely.

Belle once again did not respond. "May I say something to you, Miss Woods?" he asked as she turned to walk away.

"What?" Belle asked in an angry tone as she turned around. "And it's French. BELLE FRENCH."

"You'd best get used to your new name, Princess – if you're going to leave the house on Monday to run errands you'll need to use it. And as for what I'd like to say, well - I'd like to apologize. For my rudeness yesterday." Gold said.

"Thank you." Belle said. "Apology accepted."

"You may join me if you wish – your choice." Gold said.

"I already ate my breakfast." Belle said.

"Well then – at least have some coffee. I would like to talk to you. If you please." Gold said.

"Alright." Belle said. She went to the china cabinet and took out a cup. She sat down, poured some for herself, and took a drink. "I've been doing all of the work you ask. Is there a problem? I mean – other than my chattiness." Gold smirked at her.

"Not at all." Gold said. "It just seems that – well, we got off to a bad start. I just want you to know that – well, I'm not a cruel man, I promise you that. I'm just – not used to company. Mrs. Potts kept to herself and didn't bother with me and I was fine with that arrangement. Clearly it's not going to be the same with you so – I'm willing to adjust. Provided that you do the same. I'm not one to answer questions openly, so – bear that in mind and I think we'll get on well. It's not personal, it's just – well I have to be careful in my line of business."

"Your line of business? What are you, some sort of spy?" Belle asked.

"Professional assassin." Gold said with a straight face. Belle was holding her coffee cup in her hand as he said this, and in shock she dropped it. It landed on the floor, spilling her coffee everywhere. Surprisingly, the cup didn't break into several pieces – it just received a small chip on the rim. "That was a quip." Gold smirked. Belle knelt down on the floor.

"I'm sorry it's – it's chipped." Belle said.

"It's just a cup." Gold said. "I suppose that wasn't the best attempt at humor given your – present situation and what put you here."

"I'll um – get something to clean it. What do you want me to do with the cup – your china set is incomplete now, can it be replaced?" Belle asked.

"It's only a small chip – no need to worry. Hardly even notice it." Gold said as Belle set the cup on the table. "Just clean it with the rest and put it back in the set."

"Yes – Mr. Gold." Belle said.

"Ian." he said.

"What?" Belle replied.

"My name. It's Ian." he said. "I suppose you deserve to know that much about me. In fact, I'll make you a deal – since you seem to be a curious one – you get one question per day. Provided that you ask nothing about my work, my personal life, or my past."

"Well that doesn't leave much other than trivialities." Belle said.

"That's the point." Gold said. "I'm assuming you'll eventually get bored with finding out trivial details about myself, and you'll stop. But until then – one question per day – and I will work on being less – condescending. Do we have a deal?" Belle thought about it for a moment.

"I suppose." Belle said. "So – what do you -"

"Ah – one question per day. And I already answered it." Gold said, pointing his finger in her face.

"You said that was a quip. It was, wasn't it?" Belle asked, not sure.

"Not that – my name. I told you my name." Gold said.

"But I didn't even ask it." Belle said.

"You asked it when you first arrived. And now you have your answer. Now clean up this mess before it leaves a stain." Gold said, and he looked down onto the floor at the spilled coffee. "Oh, and by the way – you're scheduled to clean upstairs today. You only worry about the east wing, which consists of my bedroom, bathroom, and study. The west wing is closed off and you are not to enter it. Ever."

"Why not?" Belle asked.

"You already have your one question for the day answered." he said. "Just do what you're asked. I'll expect my lunch at noon." He got up from the table and left the room. Now she was curious. Belle had yet to even venture upstairs. What on earth could be in the west wing that he was so reluctant to allow her to see? Belle knew one thing – if she got him to reveal his name within one day without even trying – she could certainly get him to reveal that. Eventually.