Beautiful French was roused from the pleasant haze of her dreams the day after meeting Mr. Gold by the sound of her phone alarm blaring from above his dresser. Ignoring his harsh noises, she tried to bury herself further into the warm mountain of sheets and pillows that made up her bed, but it was to no avail, and groaning in frustration, she crawled out of bed. Blue eyes barely open, she searched for her phone, quickly turning off the unpleasant beep then slipping it into the pocket of her plaid pajamas. The first thing she realized after walking into the bathroom and splashing ice water on her face. To wake up, it was Sunday. She moaned. She had forgotten to turn off her alarm again and as a result, she was now wide awake at seven in the morning on the day she didn't have class for no reason. She let out a small sigh as she trudged towards what she suppose you could call a kitchen, but in all honesty it was more of a 4x4 square with a refrigerator, a oven and sink, to make a cup of tea. As she waited for the water to boil, she reluctantly looked around her small one-bedroom apartment. The place was seven hundred and fifty square feet, sparsely furnished with the cheapest belongings she could find on Craigslist, and entirely on the wrong side of town. It was cramped and sad, but it was all she could afford. She grew up in a small provincial town a few kilometers from Sydney, Australia. Her father had been mayor and she had lived in a castle house. She spent most of her days taking orders from her father's public relations firm. He was told what to wear and what to say, where to go, who to talk to, who to ignore, when to smile... middle of paper... him and in the most disconcerting way - the way we is drawn to the fire during a harsh winter, knowing that if we get too close we will get burned, and yet we move closer still to feel the heat and watch the flames lick and flicker against the chimney. Unfortunately, neither the curiosity nor the sense of danger that came from it explained the way his heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. No man had ever had this effect on her, not even men she had been in a 'serious' relationship with, so why a man she had just met made her feel this way was completely beyond her. she was just more beautiful and cordial than she had prepared herself for, but she knew it was something more than that. She looked up at the clock on the wall in front of her – 7:30. Suddenly next Saturday couldn't come fast enough..