Close Counsel
Merry Christmas to @wayamy27narf ! Here is your Rumbelle Secret Santa gift! The prompt was “adversaries to lovers, towel slip”, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As you wanted them to be adversaries, I made Gold and Belle lawyers on opposing sides (all the implied/referenced stuff in the tags relates to the court case). I also set it in London, both because I’m British and more familiar with the English legal system, and because the thought of Gold in a wig and gown was too delicious to pass up.
Words: 7,775
Rating: E
AO3 link: Close Counsel - Emospritelet - Once Upon a Time (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
-
There were days when Belle almost wished she had not gone to law school, much less become a criminal barrister. The pay was shocking, the hours long, and it often felt as though she was fighting a losing battle against the London cost of living. Balanced against that was the intellectual challenge and the thrill of going toe-to-toe with the prosecution. Case in point, Sir Lachlan Gold, King’s Counsel, appearing for the Crown against her client, Zelena Mills. He was watching her with a tiny smile lifting the corner of his mouth, idly fingering the edge of the black silk gown draping his slim form. The horsehair wig on his head showed silver hair at his temples, darker hair at the nape of his neck. She knew he had had a highly successful career as a defence barrister before joining the Crown Prosecution Service, and—not for the first time—wondered why he had chosen to switch sides.
“Miss French?”
His Honour Judge Spencer was eyeing her, and Belle nodded hastily.
“Thank you, Your Honour.”
She glanced across at the dock, where Miss Mills was taking a seat, flicking back her red-gold curls and smiling at the jury. Her perfectly tailored green suit showed an impressive amount of cleavage, her fingers glittering with diamonds. She was glamorous and self-confident, the very picture of success, which must have made the charges against her seem ludicrous to some. Perhaps it would be enough. Belle took a deep breath. Here we go.
“Miss Mills,” she said. “Mr Locksley has told the court that you are an obsessive, jealous stalker who has terrorised his family for months. How do you respond to these accusations?”
Miss Mills let out a tinkling laugh of true amusement.
“It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” she said lightly. “I’m a highly successful businesswoman. He is – a plumber. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”
She curled her lip slightly as she said it.
“I have a house in Chelsea, a business that pays me extraordinarily well, and I work out every day,” she added. “I don’t exactly starve for male attention.”
There was a ripple of amusement from the public gallery.
“What was your relationship with Mr Locksley?” asked Belle.
“As he said, he came to my house to fit a sauna and plunge pool,” she said, sounding bored. “He was perfectly pleasant, and so was I. We hit it off immediately, and when the job was finished, I offered him a drink to celebrate. I wasn’t aware he was married until after.”
“After?” asked Belle, and she smirked.
“After,” she said. “After he woke up and started panicking and rambling on about his family.”
“So, the two of you had sex, after which he fell asleep?”
“Miss French,” said Judge Spencer softly. “That is a leading question.”
“My apologies, Your Honour, I’ll rephrase the question.” Belle licked her lips. “Prior to Mr Locksley “waking up”, in your words, what had happened?”
Miss Mills arched a brow at her, smirking. “We had sex, after which he fell asleep. Typical man.”
“And before that?”
“As I said, we had shared a drink.” She sounded bored again. “I wasn’t expecting him to pass out from one drink, but then we were quite – vigorous.”
“You’re aware that Mr Locksley claims you spiked his drink,” said Belle. “Although the jury ha been reminded that you have not been charged with that offence.”
“Well, I should think not, I wouldn’t know how!” she protested, pressing a hand to her heart. “I mean, one hears about this sort of thing, but it’s all in seedy nightclubs and dive bars, isn’t it?”
“Did he make this accusation at the time?”
“I can’t recall what he said exactly,” She waved a hand, beringed fingers twirling in the air. “He was panicking, blabbering on about his wife. Quite the mood-killer, to be honest.”
“And what did you say?”
“I thought he was overreacting,” she said airily. “He asked me not to tell anyone, and I agreed. Then he left. I didn’t expect to see him again.”
“And then?”
Miss Mills sucked in her cheeks before letting them go with a smack.
“He asked to meet a day or two later,” she said. “I agreed, and he came to the house. He suggested we start an affair.”
“In his evidence, Mr Locksley denied that,” said Belle. “He told the court he had gone to chase payment, which you had been withholding, and that it was you that suggested the affair.”
“Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?” She shuffled in her seat a little. “He was the one to suggest it, not me. I was interested, but I was going away on business, so I said I would call him the following week. He called me instead.”
“When was this?”
“Fifth of March,” she said. “He said he couldn’t see me again. Quite rudely, I thought. I didn’t understand why, he wasn’t making much sense.”
“So, you wanted to know where you stood?” prompted Belle. “His response confused you?”
“Leading, Miss French,” said Judge Spencer. “I’d prefer not to have to tell you again.”
Belle grimaced, but turned back to Miss Mills.
“Mr Locksley states that you turned up at his home on March 13th,” she said. “What is your response?”
“Well, I still needed to pay him for the work that he had done,” she said, looking put out. “He wouldn’t answer my calls, and I wanted to settle up. I always pay my debts.” She looked at the jury as she said that, and Belle saw one of the men nod approvingly.
“So, what did you do?”
“That was when I went to his house,” she said. “And why I went. It wasn’t to stalk him, it was to pay him.”
“Did he take the payment?”
“He did not,” she said coolly. “Perhaps plumbers make more than I thought. Or perhaps he didn’t need to. I did notice a few of my jewels were missing a few days later…”
“Your Honour?” Gold’s interjection made Belle jump. His tone was icy. “Miss Mills has not made this claim before, and quite frankly, the victim’s conduct, real or imagined, is not on trial here.”
“Thank you, Mr Gold. Miss Mills!” The judge’s tone was firm. “Answer the questions put to you, and do not insinuate anything else! The jury will disregard the last sentence. Difficult as that may be now that Miss Mills has suggested it.”
Miss Mills gave him a beaming smile.
“A thousand apologies, Your Honour, I was just – thinking aloud.”
“Then I suggest you keep your thoughts internal only, unless they are germane to the questions being asked.”
“As you wish.”
Belle tried not to sigh in frustration at her client. Provoking the judge was never wise.
“What did Mr Locksley say when you visited his house?” she asked.
Miss Mills pursed her lips.
“He said something about needing time,” she said vaguely.
“Can you remember exactly what he said?” asked Belle.
“Of course not, it was ages ago.” She flicked her hair back. “Then his wife joined him at the door. She was extremely rude. I offered payment, and she refused on his behalf and told me to ‘fuck off and take my money with me’.” She hooked her fingers in air quotes, looking simultaneously apologetic to the jury and appalled at Mrs Locksley’s profanity.
“And what has been your contact with Mr Locksley since then?”
Miss Mills flicked back her hair, jewellery clinking.
“We met up in a bar a few weeks later,” she said. “He suggested getting a room for the evening, but by that time I was tired of being used and discarded. I told him it was over. The next thing I know, the police are at my door accusing me of stalking, of all things! It’s nonsense! All that rubbish about following him around and talking to his son – it’s completely ridiculous!”
She huffed indignantly. A muttering from the public gallery, where Mr Locksley and his wife sat, reached Belle’s ears, but cut off abruptly as the judge frowned at them.
“And since then, have you initiated contact at all?”
“I have not.”
“Mr Locksley claims you threatened him,” said Belle. “That you paid an acquaintance to follow him and intimidate him. What is your response to this accusation?”
“Utterly ridiculous,” said Miss Mills dismissively. “I don’t know where he gets these ideas, I’ve never done anything of the sort. Does he think I’m desperate or something? Honestly, the nerve of mediocre men…” She shook her head sadly.
“Thank you, Miss Mills. No further questions.”
“Please remain seated, Miss Mills,” said Judge Spencer. “Mr Gold?”
“Thank you, Your Honour.”
Gold stood, swivelling on the toes of shining black leather shoes to face the dock, eyes fixed on Miss Mills and both hands folded over the top of the gold-handled cane he used. He held that pose for a long moment, and Miss Mills looked wary, shifting in her seat. The courtroom was silent, waiting, the atmosphere heavy. Belle rolled her eyes at his theatrics, but just as Miss Mills opened her mouth, Mr Gold smiled.
“You’re a successful businesswoman, Miss Mills,” he said, and she seemed to relax a little.
“Yes.”
“Not exactly starved for male company, you said.”
“That’s right.”
“With a house in Chelsea, who works out every day. You’re quite a catch, aren’t you?”
She smirked. “Well, I—”
“It hurts to be rejected, doesn’t it, Miss Mills?”
Her mouth twisted, as though she had bitten something sour.
“Like I said, I wasn’t—”
“You have a long history of rejection, don’t you, Miss Mills?” he went on, striding back and forth across the court with a swift, limping gait. “We’ve seen the tales of your exploits in the press over the years. I believe one of your ex-lovers called you 'psychotic' and 'the worst mistake he’d ever made’. Hardly a ringing endorsement.”
Miss Mills bristled, looking furious.
“Those were lies!”
“In fact,” he added. “Not one of these relationships lasted more than a few weeks. The longest was three months. That’s not counting all the one-nighters, of course. You may not be starved for male company, but it doesn’t seem that you can keep it for long. Perhaps you just don’t hold their interest.”
"That is not true!"
"Or perhaps you just can't let go," said Gold. "Clinging to every one beyond the point when any reasonable woman with a modicum of self-respect would have backed away. But that's not you, is it, Miss Mills?"
“How dare you!”
“Your Honour, I really must protest!” exclaimed Belle.
“Counsel, please approach the bench,” said Judge Spencer wearily.
Belle huffed, tugging her robe straight as she stomped towards the judge, who was eyeing her sternly. Mr Gold stepped up next to her, and she caught a whiff of expensive cologne.
“I’d prefer for this trial to be conducted without descending into chaos,” said Judge Spencer, in a low tone. “This is not America, Miss French, please try to refrain from shouting.”
“Yes, Your Honour,” said Belle meekly. “I apologise, but if I may, reports in the tabloid press are hardly watertight evidence."
"I'm merely setting out what's in the public domain," said Gold mildly. "The defendant can choose to refute my points, and the jury can decide on their accuracy."
Judge Spencer looked enquiringly at Belle.
"I fail to see what relevance tabloid gossip columns have here," said Belle stiffly. "Mr Gold merely seems intent on humiliating the defendant.”
“The defendant doth protest too much, methinks,” said Gold dryly, and Belle frowned.
“I think perhaps my learned friend is confusing agitation with guilt,” she said. “Unfortunate, given that justice favours evidence over emotion. Whether or not you quote Shakespeare.”
A tiny twitch in Gold’s cheek showed Belle she had scored a hit, and she pressed her lips together to keep from grinning. Gold arched an eyebrow at her, looking amused. He leaned close, his breath tickling her ear and making her shiver pleasantly.
“And the evidence shows she’s guilty as hell,” he whispered.
“A pity you need to prove it beyond reasonable doubt rather than just relying on vibes, then,” she returned, and his eyes gleamed, the tip of his tongue sweeping between his lips as he tried to hold back a smile.
“Well, we’ll see what assessment the jury makes, shall we?” he asked, and Belle shrugged.
“I’ve already seen a few of the men eyeing her cleavage,” she said in an undertone. “I think we both know how they’ll decide.”
“In time, you’ll understand how juries think,” he said. “As well as being a pathological liar, she’s unlikeable.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“It’s yours too, if you’re honest with yourself.”
Belle put her fists on her hips, raising her chin.
“I’m here to represent Miss Mills to the best of my ability,” she said. “What I feel about her is immaterial.”
“Well, I’m delighted we’ve cleared that up,” said Judge Spencer, in a dry tone. “Mr Gold, you may resume this line of questioning. Miss French, try to be less excitable.”
“Yes, Your Honour. My apologies, Your Honour.”
Gold turned back to Miss Mills with a wry smile. She was glaring at him, cheeks red and nostrils flaring.
“Miss Mills, we’ve already established that you have a history of failed relationships and one-night hook-ups,” he said. “It seems that men within your own social circles avoid you like the plague. That must be - humiliating - to a woman with as much to offer as you say.”
“I have a hectic social life!” she hissed, eyes flashing.
“And so, you turn to those you consider beneath you,” he went on, as if she hadn't spoken. “People like Mr Locksley, whom you entice with promises of lucrative contracts, and who need the work to feed their families.”
“He came on to me!” she snapped. “He clearly wanted a little excitement in his dull little life, so he led me on and then got scared his wife would leave him and take their son!”
“The truth is, all he offered you was his excellent workmanship,” said Gold. “But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You had to take what you wanted. It’s all about power with you, isn’t it? Power and control and putting men in their rightful place, which is giving you what you want, when you want it.”
“You…” Miss Mills looked furious. “How dare you sit there and judge me!”
“Oh, that’s for the jury,” said Gold carelessly. “I’m merely sketching out your character.”
“He chose to pretend that I was the one that couldn’t let go.” Her nostrils were flaring. “He was the one to cheat on his wife, and now he’s making me pay for his guilt! He should just have been honest with her.”
“The truth, Miss Mills, is that he was honest, wasn’t he?” snapped Gold. “He told his wife exactly what you had done, and that’s why she wasn’t surprised when you turned up at their house. You went there to intimidate him into doing what you wanted, didn’t you?”
“I went there to pay him!”
“You could have paid him very easily by bank transfer, you didn’t have to turn up on his doorstep!” Gold looked incredulous. “This is the 21st century, Miss Mills, did you think you had to hand-deliver a bag of gold sovereigns?”
“Of course not…”
“The truth, Miss Mills, is that you are a lonely, bitter woman who thrives on exerting power over the men that turn you down, isn’t that right?”
“No, it is not!”
“Mr Locksley told you outright that he was married, and had no intention of cheating on his wife, and you took offence to that, didn’t you?”
“No!”
“So you hired a man to threaten him,” he went on. “You turned up at his wife’s place of work and his son’s school. You acted, in short, like the ‘psycho’ your ex-lover said you were, like ‘the worst mistake’ a man could ever make.”
“You bastard!”
“And yet the only mistake Mr Locksley made was agreeing to take the job in the first place,” said Gold. “You pursued him. You refused to accept his rejection. You targeted his family. You intimidated him!”
“Well, he deserved it!” she shouted.
The court erupted in excited murmurs, and Miss Mills snapped her mouth shut, looking horrified. Gold’s smile grew.
“No further questions, Your Honour."
-
Belle huffed despondently, slumping a little on the bar of Paternoster’s as she turned the remains of a large gin and tonic between her fingertips. Guilty. She hated losing. Overall, her first few years as a defence barrister had gone well; she had stood her ground against seasoned prosecutors even before she had faced off against the infamous Sir Lachlan Gold, but she still hated to lose. Admittedly, though, she felt that the jury had reached the right verdict.
Behind her, the noise of the bar was growing, an excess of pre-Christmas spirit from the assembled lawyers and office workers. She was feeling less than festive herself, her Christmas plans thwarted by her housemate’s failure to return from her grandmother’s due to a bad case of flu. Although Ruby was over the worst of it, it was unlikely she would make it back until the following week. Belle would be cooking and eating Christmas dinner alone.
She raised the glass in mock celebration before downing the dregs of her gin. Happy Christmas to me. The barman started towards her, and she opened her mouth.
“Good evening,” came a familiar voice from behind her, before she could speak. “I’ll take a Macallan, please. Neat.”
Belle swivelled on her stool, a wry smile on her face. Mr Gold looked very different outside court, his wig and gown removed to reveal a slim-fitting suit and black silk shirt, a dark red tie at his throat and soft hair brushing his high cheekbones.
“Miss French,” he said, surprised.
“Come to gloat?” she said lightly, and he grinned.
“Perish the thought.” He nodded at her glass. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Gin and tonic.”
“Certainly.” He raised a hand to the barman, gesturing towards Belle’s empty glass and getting a nod of understanding, before slouching against the bar and turning towards her. “So. The first time you and I have crossed swords. Hopefully not the last.”
“I’ll get you next time,” she said, her tone teasing, and he chuckled.
“I don’t doubt it.”
The barman returned with their drinks, and Gold slipped onto the stool next to her, hooking his cane on the bar. Belle took a sip of her drink.
“I read up on you,” she said. “Sir Lachlan Gold, KC. Staunch defender of white-collar criminals, scourge of the CPS.”
He smirked. “That was some time ago.”
“And then you jumped ship and became a Crown Prosecutor,” she went on. “Poacher turned gamekeeper, if you like. Why the change of heart?”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t the money,” he said dryly, and she giggled.
“I imagine not.”
“The truth is I got tired of defending some of the worst people in the world,” he said, looking suddenly weary. “I thought it was time to switch sides. You may decide the same in a few years.”
“Can’t afford it right now,” she said regretfully. “This case is the most high-profile I’ve done, and certainly the most lucrative. I was surprised to get the instruction.”
Gold leaned in, fixing her with a stare.
“Well, the trial is over, so I don’t suppose it hurts to let you know,” he said. “Word amongst the chambers was that she had approached most of them and been turned down. She has something of a reputation for lying to her advocates. Not to mention her little trick with the ‘strong’ drink. A pity Mr Locksley didn’t call the police earlier; the charges against her could have been even more serious.”
Belle slumped a little further. “Oh,” she said heavily.
“Overall, I’m pleased to have won,” he added. “Mr Locksley and his family will have a far more relaxing Christmas with her locked up, I’m sure.”
Belle nodded, reaching for her drink and shoving Miss Mills out of her head. He had only confirmed her suspicions, after all.
“What are your plans for Christmas?” she asked, changing the subject. Gold grimaced.
“I’m afraid my Christmas will be unintentionally uneventful,” he said ruefully. “I was expecting my son and his family to visit. Unfortunately, their flight was cancelled because of the snow. They won’t get here until Boxing Day at the earliest.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” she said. “Where do they live?”
“Maine, New England,” he said. “A little town called Storybrooke. I usually travel there myself, but the trial made that impossible. It’ll be the first Christmas we haven’t spent together.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’ll be alone, too. My best friend went to visit her granny, and they both came down with flu. I’ll be cooking dinner for one.”
“Ah.”
“Actually,” she amended. “I’ll probably just eat cheese and drink wine and fall asleep on the sofa watching Muppet Christmas Carol.”
“That doesn’t sound terrible, to be honest,” he said, with a grin, and she giggled.
“Well, if you fancy slumming it in Ealing, you’re welcome to come over.”
“Can I bring dessert?”
“Only if it’s really fattening.”
“Is there any other kind?”
“And if you bring booze, too,” she added.
“I could put the booze in the dessert,” he suggested. “And bring the rest of the bottle, perhaps. Speaking of which, can I get you another?”
He pointed at her glass, and Belle turned a little more towards him. The gin was warming her body, flushing her cheeks, and she was feeling pleasantly loose and relaxed for the first time in weeks.
“Careful, Mr Gold,” she teased. “A girl could think you were taking advantage.”
He pressed a hand to his heart with a wounded expression.
“Please, I’m a gentleman.”
“Pity,” she sighed, and he laughed.
“But since you offered, I’ll have one more,” she added.
“Of course, I’ll just—” He cut off, tilting his head as he looked at her. “Are we flirting?” he asked, and she pursed her lips, looking him over before nodding slowly.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Thank God you told me, it’s been so long since I tried, I wasn’t sure.”
Belle laughed, clinking her glass against his.
“Then get me that drink and we’ll see if we can give you some more practice.”
-
The frigid air made Belle shiver, flakes of snow tickling her nose as they fell. Gold had offered her his free arm when they left the bar, and she was pushing his wheeled briefcase with her left hand, her own stacked on top with her handbag. They made their way slowly along Embankment, shoes squeaking in the new-fallen snow. The world seemed hushed, muffled, the streetlights dimmed by a veil of falling flakes. The Thames trickled along slowly beside them, water shimmering with the reflections of coloured lights, and the sounds of laughter and snatches of Christmas songs reached them from revellers leaving nearby pubs and heading home.
“So,” said Gold, making her glance across at him. “Ealing. That’ll be the District Line from Temple, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Only we passed Temple some time back,” he pointed out, and she sighed.
“I know. I’ve kind of been enjoying the walk. It’s not often we get snow at Christmas in London, I’m making the most of it.” She shivered again.
“By freezing to death?” he remarked, stopping his stride and turning to her. “Here.”
He unwound the scarf from around his neck and offered it to her. Belle nodded gladly as he wrapped it around her. The heat from it was instant: soft wool filled with his own warmth and scent, and she caught herself inhaling deeply.
“Thank you.”
“Can’t have my favourite new adversary catching the flu,” he said, turning back to the path.
“Are we adversaries?” she asked. “The trial’s over.”
“I suppose that’s true,” he agreed. “My thanks to Miss Mills for enabling us to meet.”
Belle smiled, arm tucked in his.
“I’ll have more cases in the New Year,” she said. “No doubt we’ll meet again.”
“No doubt.”
They walked a little further, their breath like smoke.
“So, do you live alone?” she asked casually. “When your family isn’t visiting, I mean?”
“Yes, just me and the cats,” he said, and she turned to him, delighted.
“You have cats?”
“Yes. Honey and Marmalade.” He grinned at her. “My grandson named them.”
“Oh, that’s adorable!”
“I suppose having a grandson makes me seem incredibly old to you,” he said, and she waved an impatient hand.
“Please. I read your bio, I know how old you are.”
“Ah.”
They walked on, and she glanced across, noting his tiny smile.
“Where do you live?” she asked suddenly. “Am I taking you out of your way?”
“Not at all, I own a flat near Regent’s Park. A short hop on the Tube. Not that I do much hopping, obviously.” He patted his bad leg with a chuckle. Belle gaped at him.
“Regent’s Park?” she said. “I was lucky to find a tiny rental in Ealing. And even then, my housemate had to call in a favour.”
“Oh, I own it,” he said casually, and when she continued to stare, he leaned in. “Corporate crime pays very well. Which means those accused can afford to pay their lawyers accordingly.”
“Huh.” Belle turned back to the path ahead of them. “And yet you gave it all up to be a public prosecutor.”
“Yes.” His tone was thoughtful. “Very noble of me, don’t you think?”
“I do.”
“Sexy, some might say.”
Belle giggled, casting him an amused glance.
“Are we flirting again?”
“Yes, I think so.” He was grinning at her, and she stopped, turning to face him.
“Well, Mr Gold,” she said, gazing up at him. “You’re getting better at that.”
His grin widened.
“Did you know you’re extraordinarily beautiful?”
“Hmm, even better,” she murmured. “Go on.”
“I’d like to kiss you.”
“I’d like that, too.”
His left hand in its leather gloves was cold against her cheek, but there was warmth in his eyes, and she let her hands rest on his waist as she tilted her head back. His lips were soft against hers, his tongue gently parting them, and she felt herself melt into him with a tiny moan. The hand crept into her hair, making her shudder, the kiss deepening, and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself against him. He tasted of the whisky he had drunk, honey and snoke and the heat of the alcohol, and she could feel the desire that had smouldering within her all evening flare to life deep in her belly. Gold’s lips left hers, his breathing heavy.
“Well, well,” he said, his voice a low, throaty growl. “That was - delicious.”
“It was.” She felt a lazy smile spread across her face. “Seems a shame to let the night end.”
His eyebrows lifted, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“My place is nearer than yours,” he said. “If – if you want.”
Her grin widened. “I want.”
-
Gold’s place was a corner apartment in a beautiful Georgian building, overlooking Regent’s Park. The lobby was resplendent in shining wood and marble, the concierge greeting Gold by name and giving her a respectful nod. They took the lift up to the third floor and Gold flourished his keys as they approached a large, white door at the end of a corridor. A chorus of mews was coming from behind it, and he grinned.
“Alright, let me get the door open!” he called, and unlocked it.
Two cats were in the doorway, meowing loudly: a slender, elegant brown Burmese and a fat, fluffy ginger cat. They began winding around Gold’s legs, backs arched and tails curled over in pleasure at his return.
“Hello, Miss Honey.” Gold bent to pet the Burmese, then the ginger cat. “Hello, boy. Say hello to Belle. Come on in, Belle, make yourself at home. I’d better feed these two before they eat us alive.”
Belle had bent to let the cats sniff her, but the moment Gold strode off, they darted after him, squeaking excitedly. She shut the door behind herself, looking around. A corridor painted in pale salmon-pink led to a kitchen, where Gold had taken the cats. Twin doors led off to left and right, and Belle tried the one on the left, opening it up onto a large lounge with fat leather sofas and a corner bookcase, a pair of Chesterfields either side of an ornate fireplace, and a sumptuous Christmas tree reaching almost to the high ceiling, crystal decorations twinkling. Belle’s mouth fell open.
“This place is huge!” she called, and heard an answering laugh from the kitchen.
She tried the door to the right next, finding a dining room painted in pale green, with an elegant ten-place table and chairs, an antique sideboard, and another fireplace and Christmas tree to match the lounge. High windows flanked by olive green brocade curtains looked out over the park. Belle shook her head, and tried the door to the right of the fireplace. It opened out into a spotless, modern kitchen with gleaming white units and an island, where Gold was spooning cat food into two bowls. A door to the left led back into the lounge, and another door was in the rear wall of the kitchen, next to a well-stocked wine rack.
“This is amazing!” she exclaimed, darting from the lounge to the kitchen and back again, her head turning to take in the elegant furnishings. “And all this is yours?”
“It’s useful for the family,” he said nonchalantly, putting down the cats’ bowls. “Helps them to visit more often. I feel as though I’m rattling around in here the rest of the time, but it’s comfortable and convenient.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said honestly. “And overlooking the park, too. Excellent for morning runs.”
“I’d have to take your word for that,” he said, with a wry smile.
“Walks, then,” she amended, unwinding the scarf from around her neck. “Either way, it beats my tiny house share next to a pub.”
“Speaking of, can I offer you a drink?”
“I’m still a little tipsy,” she admitted. “Maybe later?”
“Later.”
He came closer, seeming a little awkward now that they were there together. Belle put her head to one side.
“Which bedroom is yours?” she asked, and he gestured towards the door Belle had spied, his hand shaking a little.
“The one at the end.”
“Great. Do you have condoms?”
“I—” He cut off, swallowing hard. “You’re very forthright.”
“Yeah, life is short.” Her voice was matter of fact.
“Right.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t have any. I wasn’t exactly expecting this.”
“Don’t worry, I have some.” She patted her handbag. “Be prepared, that’s what I say.”
“Right.”
“Shall we?”
She sauntered off, hearing him take a step after her, and grinned to herself.
Gold’s bedroom was as sumptuous as the rest of the apartment; a king-sized bed with crisp cotton sheets faced high windows hung with deep red curtains, and a large wardrobe in shining wood stood beside an antique dresser, opposite another of the ornate fireplaces. Belle tossed a few condoms onto the nightstand before exploring further. A door at the end led to an ensuite bathroom with a walk-in shower and slipper bath, tiled in pale grey marble. She took a few minutes to freshen up before heading back into the bedroom. Gold had removed his heavy wool coat and suit jacket, the sleeves of his shirt held up with gold garters just above his elbows. The sight of him made her want to lick her lips. He shook back his hair as he glanced across at her.
“So,” he said. “Here we are. I – uh – it’s been a while, Belle, I’m not gonna lie.”
“For me, too,” she said. “We’ll be fine.”
He nodded, smiling, and she shrugged out of her coat, letting him take it from her shoulders and drape it over the dresser chair. Her suit jacket followed, leaving her in a sleeveless black dress that skimmed her slender figure. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, making her shiver.
“Unzip me,” she whispered, hearing his breath catch. Cool fingers brushed the nape of her neck, delicious against her warm skin, and he found the zipper, drawing it down to the small of her back. His breathing had quickened, and Belle gasped as soft lips found her shoulder, kisses trailing across to her earlobe. A tiny moan escaped her, desire tugging at her lower belly.
“Take it off,” she breathed, and his fingers slid beneath the dress, pushing it from her shoulders and down over her hips. She stepped out of it, and it went to join the jacket.
“Let me look at you,” whispered Gold, and she turned in her heels, clad only in her bra, panties and tights. His eyes roamed over her, dark and hungry, and the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip.
“Beautiful,” he breathed, and reached up to cup her face, bending to kiss her.
Belle pressed herself against him as the kiss deepened, his tongue pushing into her mouth and stroking against hers. She could feel him hardening against her, his firm length pressing into her belly, and she wanted him inside her, wanted to feel every inch of him deep within. She moaned, reaching up to twist her fingers through his hair, and the kiss grew frantic, Gold lurching forward to slam her back against the wall. She gasped into his mouth, opening her legs to wrap one around his waist and feel more of him pressed against her core. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs rubbing over the nipples in slow circles, sending jolts of sensation down through her body. He pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck, lips pulling at the skin and making her moan. Hands scrabbled at the back of her bra, struggling with the clasp until she reached behind and unhooked it for him, tossing it aside and moaning as his soft, wet mouth clamped around her right nipple.
Belle rose up on her toes, nails scraping his scalp, her breath heaving, and his fingers hooked inside the top of her tights, pulling them down her legs with her panties. She kicked off her heels so he could take them off, leaving her naked before him. Gold gazed up at her, his eyes roving over her naked skin, hands sliding slowly up her thighs.
“Beautiful,” he said again, his eyes soft, and then put his mouth to her, tongue slipping between her soft folds.
Belle arched into him with a moan, fingers tugging at her hair. His tongue moved in slow circles, slipping over her clit, pushing inside her. It felt incredible, her skin tingling, a wave of pleasure beginning to build inside her. He slipped an arm behind one leg, hooking it over his shoulder, and let out a low growl as it allowed him to taste more of her, one finger sliding deep inside her as his tongue swept over her tender flesh. She let out a tiny cry, tugging him against her, wanting all of him, wanting him to devour her, and a second finger joined the first, pushing deep. Pleasure rose up through her, a wave of bliss building, and Belle threw back her head with a cry as it crashed over her, stars bursting behind her eyes and cheeks flushing with heat. He growled again, tongue swirling over her as her cries faded into ragged breathing.
She slumped against the wall, skin tingling as she tried to catch her breath, and Gold placed a final kiss to her and sank back on his heels, wobbling a little on his bad foot. He was grinning, looking extremely pleased with himself, and she let out a contented sigh.
“Your turn,” she said. “Let’s got all those layers off you.”
Undressing him was exciting, peeling off the layers of silk and fine wool to reveal a thin but strong body with a smooth chest and lightly tanned skin. The scent of him was intoxicating: woody, spicy cologne mixed with his own musk, and she licked across his chest, tasting his salt, sucking a nipple in between her lips and feeling him groan in response. His cock was hard against her chest, and she kissed down to skim the head with her tongue.
“Fuck!” he gasped, hands twisting in her dark curls.
“God, yes!” she breathed, and kissed back up his body, reaching for one of the condoms and rolling it on. He was hot and rigid in her hand, and she squeezed gently, grinning as he rasped out another curse.
“Ready?” she asked, and waited for his fervent nod before straddling him.
Gold arched up into her with a groan, hands reaching up to grasp the carved wooden headboard. She sank down onto him, hands braced on his flat belly, enjoying the feel of him inside her, hard and thick. He had pushed deep, rubbing against her and sending ripples of sensation through her, and she moaned as she began to move, hips making slow circles, grinding against him.
“Oh, Belle!” he breathed. “God, you feel amazing!”
“So do you!” she whispered.
Belle kept her rhythm slow and steady, watching the muscles in his arms and chest tensing as his pleasure grew. She could feel her own climax nearing, and quickened her pace, letting it build, a low moan bursting from her lips. Gold released the headboard, fingers twining through hers, hands clasped as his eyes locked onto hers. There was an intensity in his gaze, a connection binding them together in that moment, and he threw his head back against the pillows with a groaning cry, thrusting up into her. His cock pulsed, the sensation pushing her over the edge, and her cries of bliss joined his, bodies pumping against each other until they were spent.
Belle collapsed onto his chest, and they lay in a sticky, sweaty tangle of limbs, their breathing harsh and uneven. She could hear his heart thumping, hot, damp skin against her cheek and his arms around her. Her cheeks were on fire, and she desperately wanted a drink of water, but she was too soft and sated to move. Gold seemed to recover first.
“Well,” he said, a little breathlessly. “Merry fucking Christmas to me.”
Belle burst out laughing, pushing herself up on his chest to eye him with amusement.
“Oh, I think that was a gift for both of us.”
He returned her grin, his eyes heavy-lidded and lazy, but still with that wicked gleam in them. He reached up to cup her cheek, thumb stroking over her skin.
“I’m glad you think so,” he said. “Can I offer you that drink, now?”
“Just water, please. I’m dying of thirst.”
“Of course. I could make some tea as well, if you like.”
“Perfect.”
She bent to kiss him, and he welcomed her with a growl of pleasure, kissing her deeply before flipping her onto her back. Belle ran her fingers through his hair, smelling her own scent on his skin, and Gold pulled at her lips with his before pushing up on his elbows.
“Tea,” he reminded himself, sounding regretful.
“We can pick this up after we’ve had the tea,” she offered. “The night is young, and neither of us has work tomorrow.”
His answering grin was wide.
-
A scratching at the door woke Belle, followed by plaintive mews, and her eyes fluttered open. Gold was curled around her, an arm across her waist, and she stretched, her body aching pleasantly. It had been a long night. She grinned as she remembered it. His lips pressed against her shoulder, his grip tightening.
“Morning.” His murmur was sleepy.
“Morning.” She yawned widely. “I think the cats want feeding.”
“Mm.” He kissed her shoulder again. “Suppose I’d better see to them. Although I’d much rather stay here.”
“Well, if you go, I can do something about this terrible morning breath,” she remarked, and he chuckled.
“Mine’s pretty tragic too,” he said. “There’s a new toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet. You can have it. I’m going to take a shower once I’ve fed the cats. Would you like some coffee?”
“I can make it,” she said, throwing back the covers.
“The machine already has beans in it,” he said. “Let me know if you need a hand working it out.”
“It’ll be fine,” she said. “I worked part time in coffee shops while I was a student, so I’m a barista as well as a barrister. You take your shower.”
He grinned at her, slipping from the bed and grabbing his cane. He went to open the bedroom door, causing both cats to hurtle inside and run between the two of them to receive ear scratches, complaining loudly about the lack of food in their bowls. Belle enjoyed watching Gold’s pert rear as he walked naked to the kitchen, answering the cats’ mews with reassurances that breakfast would soon be provided. She slid her legs over the side of the bed, toes sinking into the thick rug.
After she had visited the bathroom, given herself a quick wash and cleaned her teeth, she pulled on his discarded shirt, buttoning it loosely and rolling up the sleeves to her elbows. She padded to the kitchen, passing Gold in the doorway and sharing a brief kiss before he went to take his shower. The cats were silent, eating their breakfast, the sounds of chewing interspersed with purrs. Belle eyed the coffee machine, shining black and chrome, with a hopper full of fresh beans and a nozzle for heating and frothing milk. She smirked. Easy peasy.
She was setting cups, teaspoons and a bowl of sugar cubes on the table, when soft footsteps made her smile. Gold’s hand slid around her, cupping a breast before dipping to the curve of her waist. His kiss to the nape of her neck made her shiver.
“That shirt looks much better on you,” he murmured.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She turned in his arms to twine her own around his neck. “I think you dress exceptionally well, Mr Gold.”
“Why thank you, Miss French.”
His hair was wet, brushed back from his forehead, his body naked except for a small towel knotted at his waist, and she raised her chin to meet his mouth with hers as he bent to kiss her. Damp strands of hair began falling forward, tickling her face, and his hand reached up to cup her cheek as the kiss deepened. His cock twitched beneath the towel, and Belle made a noise of approval. Time to go back to bed.
A knock at the front door made them both start, and Gold pulled back with a puzzled expression.
“Are you expecting someone?” asked Belle.
He shook his head, but the knock came again, insistent.
“Hey Papa!” called a voice. “Dad? You awake?”
Gold’s eyes widened, and he swore under his breath, pushing back from Belle and limping out with one hand clutching the towel at his waist as it threatened to slip over his narrow hips. The rattle of a key in the lock made Belle start and leap after him.
“Don’t come in!” shouted Gold, at the same time that the door burst open, and Belle found herself face to face with a dark-haired young man, a young woman with blonde curls cascading from beneath a black, bobble-topped beanie, and a boy of about eight or nine, who waved, beaming.
“Grandpa!” he chirped excitedly. “Merry Christmas! We got an early plane!”
Gold scrabbled at the towel, trying in vain to keep it from slipping further and only succeeding in exposing one firm buttock to Belle. She bit back a giggle.
“Henry,” said Gold desperately. “Neal. Emma. I – uh—”
“Oh my God,” said Neal flatly.
“Bollocks,” said Gold, with feeling.
“Hey, Pops,” said Emma, grinning widely. “Guess you jingled your bells, huh? Very festive of you. You going to introduce us to your friend?”
“Hi,” said Belle awkwardly. “I’m Belle. We – uh – we were arguing the same case in court, and…”
“Insert joke about showing each other your briefs,” said Emma, cackling.
“You’re making it worse, babe,” said Neal.
“Hi, Belle!” said Henry excitedly. “Did you guys have a sleepover? Dad sometimes forgets to pack my PJs, too.”
Emma snorted, and Gold groaned.
“Kill me,” he whispered.
“Hey, I have dibs on being killed,” said Neal, jabbing a thumb at his chest. “Emma, could you do the honours? Or at least gouge my eyes out.”
“I wasn’t expecting you today!” said Gold wretchedly.
“We got an early plane!” said Henry again.
“Which you would know if you checked your messages,” added Emma. “Guess you were busy, huh? Nice to meet you, Belle.”
“Yeah, good to meet you,” said Neal, grinning at her. “Dad, can you, like, put pants on, or something? This is traumatising.”
“Well, if you will just barge in…” Gold threw his arm wide, overbalancing a little and snatching frantically at the towel.
“You two…” sighed Emma. “Neal, your dad has a sex life. Suck it up. Personally, I think it’s great.”
“I – I guess I should be going,” said Belle.
“No,” said Gold hastily. “No, don’t go. Just – just give me a minute.”
“Give him some clothes instead, Belle,” said Neal.
Gold swore under his breath and hurried towards the bedroom, his left buttock still showing.
“Nice ass, Pops!” called Emma.
Belle rushed after him, Emma’s delighted laughter following them. She shut the door behind them and turned to face him, biting back her own amusement. Gold had leaned against the wall with a groan.
“So, that’s your family,” she said. “They seem nice.”
“I’m never gonna live this down,” he said wearily. “Emma’s been trying to encourage me to date for years. Why the hell didn’t I check my fucking phone?”
“Hmm.” She sidled up to him, pressing her palms to his warm chest. “Are we dating?”
He smiled then, looking down at her.
“I think – I think maybe we are,” he said. “That’s – that’s if you want, of course.”
“I want.” She reached up on her toes to kiss him, and he was smiling as their lips parted.
“How would you like to spend Christmas with us?” he asked, and she grinned.
“I would like that a lot.”
