Part One
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Gossip Girl. I'm just showing my appreciation for it in a non-profit way.
Twenty-eight year-old Bart Bass first came across Evelyn Darnay at a tepid society Plaza party. She was resplendent in a purple backless gown and diamond earrings, her mahogany hair cascading down her back in loose curls. Her almond shaped chocolate eyes were dramatically outlined in charcoal black, accentuating her sharp cheekbone structure and full red lips. She was accompanied by an assortment of school friends and male admirers. To Bart's trained eye, she was the Queen Bee and the rest were fawning ants badgering for a piece of her attention.
Bart was not sure why his attention riveted upon her. There were many attractive women present—many of whom had already shared his bed and hastily discarded by him. Maybe it was because of the remote expression on her face, as if she longed to be somewhere else instead of in this buzzing room of power playing and artifice. Maybe it was because he could understand that sense of remoteness, as he had risen from humble beginnings and was often isolated at social events because people looked down upon him as 'nouveau riche'. Of course, he had a myriad of corporate contacts but they were not friends. They were people he manipulated and controlled in his objective of conquering the New York skyline.
As if Evelyn could sense someone watching her, she twisted her head and her eyes locked upon his. Bart did not flinch. He merely lifted his glass to her with an incline of his head. He could see something flicker in the cool depths of her eyes as he observed her mutter something to her followers and break away from them, gracefully crossing over to him on the other side of the room.
"Miss Darnay," he politely greeted her.
"I'm surprised you know my name, Mr. Bass." she swiftly replied, her manicured nail tracing the rim of her champagne glass.
"Who would not know the name of the Alliance Bank CEO's daughter? You are all over the social papers."
"As are you, Mr. Bass—or should I say, 'Big Bad Bass' or 'Basstard'?"
Bart quirked his lips. This was a remarkable step-up in conversation from the previous brain-dead muppets he had encountered. This young woman intrigued him. "They are charming epithets, aren't they?"
A smile flickered over her face like the sun peaking through the clouds. "Those names don't trouble you?"
Bart smirked. "No. Being feared is an important asset in business. I would hardly have got where I am now if I had meekly submitted myself to other people's wishes."
"What about being liked and admired?" she murmured.
"As much as I would love to discuss the philosophy of whether it is better to be feared or loved, I would prefer to shift to a different subject such as why would a woman such as yourself make the time to talk to an old man like me?"
Her eyes gleamed. "You do not seem like an old crone, Mr. Bass. How old are you?"
"Twenty-eight. And you?"
"Eighteen. Nineteen in two months."
"Ah. Well, I don't think it would be appropriate for you to be talking to a man like me."
He could not help but smile at the playful smirk on her face. "Mr. Bass, I know your reputation for deflowering women and I assure you that my chastity belt is secured tightly against your nefarious advances."
Bart stepped closer to her, holding out his glass to her. "Shall we make a toast to your chastity belt and my domination of New York's skyline?"
Evelyn laughed, a rich clear sound that was if someone had uncorked a bottle of champagne and the bubbles foamed over, as she gracefully clinked her glass against his own. Bart was about to speak when a heavily perfumed woman with make-up slathered on her face like a second mask and jewellery adorning her like a Christmas tree, grabbed Evelyn by the arm.
"Mother!" Evelyn exclaimed, red with embarrassment. "What are you doing?"
The woman identified as Evelyn 's mother shot Bart a vicious look and then she turned back to her daughter. "What are you doing talking to that man? Everyone is whispering about you!"
Unfazed, Bart held out his hand. "Bartholomew Bass, Mrs. Darnay."
Mrs. Darnay thrust a finger at Bart. "I know who you are," she hissed. "And I want you to stay away from my daughter. I'm not going to let you ruin my daughter's chance to be engaged to Peter Howard. We have been working on it for months, and—"
"I was not aware that this was Victorian England," Bart interposed calmly.
Mrs. Darnay nearly foamed at the mouth. "Come away, Evelyn ."
Evelyn 's face was a picture of composure. "I apologize, Mr. Bass, for the scene. I enjoyed our talk."
"Farewell, Miss Darnay."
Mrs. Darnay practically dragged Evelyn away. Bart could see people tittering and hear people gossiping, but he refused to allow them to enjoy his discomfort. Instead, he coolly drank his champagne without an inflection of emotion upon his face.
The following Saturday afternoon, Bart had just finished reducing his secretary Wendy to tears after she double-booked two important meetings when his second secretary Elise timidly entered his office.
"Yes?" he tersely asked.
"A Miss Darnay is here to see you. She has no appointment but she insists on seeing you."
Bart kept his face inscrutable. "Send her in, Elise."
There was a rustle, some low voices and footsteps. Finally Evelyn stepped into his office without a trace of self-consciousness. She was garbed in a fitted sombre black dress and a tailored black jacket with gold buttons. Her hair was swept back in a bun and she wore pointy black heels, with pearls around her neck and on her ears.
Bart formed a steeple with his hands on his desk. "Miss Darnay, what brings you here?"
"I wanted to apologize for the scene my mother made at the Plaza the other week."
Bart raised an eyebrow. "You weren't at fault, Miss Darnay. You don't need to apologize for your mother."
For a moment, her elegant composure faltered. "Oh."
At the vulnerable sound of her voice, an emotion rose in his chest that Bart refused to identify. His face softened. "Miss Darnay—"
She quickly recovered her self-possession. "Please call me Evelyn. When you call me Miss Darnay, I feel as if I'm in the principal's office being told off for smoking."
"Then you can call me Bart."
"Not Bartholomew?" Evelyn enquired.
"If you call me Bartholomew I shall feel as if I'm back in Sunday school being lectured by the fundamentalist Miss Cropley," countered Bart.
A small grin flickered across her lips. "You are a man of words."
"And you're not exactly lost for words yourself." He gestured to the empty seat. "Take a seat if you like."
Evelyn took a seat and crossed her legs while Bart could not help but notice her slim legs and shapely ankles. Suddenly, an impulse seized him to ask her out for lunch that he could not quash. "Evelyn, would you like to accompany me for lunch?"
"Now?"
Bart stood up and seized his coat from the rack. "Yes, now. Does the Melusine suit?"
Evelyn stared at him. "The Melusine? You need to book at least three months in advance to get a table."
"I don't, Evelyn. I took over the Melusine last year as a silent partner—if I want a table, I will get a table."
Her lips curved into a slow smile. "I'm impressed, Bart."
"You should be," he smirked.
He held out his hand. She hesitated for a brief moment but then she placed her hand in his.
After dropping Evelyn off at her house in his company limousine, Bart found himself reflecting over the lunch—something he had never done with any of his previous dates. She had been engaging, frank and amusing—more interesting than the mindless gold-diggers he had wined, dined and bedded.
They had a private alcove and spent two and a half hours talking over Moet and seafood. Amazingly, the time passed by quickly and Bart had been completely enraptured by the cadence of her voice as she told him about her life and scandalous stories about various society icons. He could barely keep the grin off his face when she leaned over to him and murmured with relish that he was more than welcome to use the information she gave him against certain individuals.
Though there was ten years difference between them, Bart thoroughly enjoyed her company, finding her to be refreshing and intelligent company. She was—to excuse the cliché—more than a beautiful face.
And as he watched her go inside, Bart was struck by an uncommon feeling of wanting her happiness more than his.
The following evening, Bart was sipping Scotch when the door to his penthouse buzzed. He got off the couch and opened the door to Evelyn. She was smiling widely.
"Hey you," she said.
Despite his plan to maintain a cool composure, he found himself grinning back. "Hello to yourself. Come on in."
She shrugged off her coat to reveal a strappy red dress and matching red heels with little roses on each point. "I told my parents that I was going out with Lily tonight and that I would be back by twelve."
"So we have four hours?" he asked, his eyes lingering on hers.
She boldly threaded her fingers through his. "Yes."
They stood for a moment in silence. Bart wanted to kiss her but was afraid he was moving too fast. He did not want to behave like he had with other women. He wanted to be a gentleman, someone she could trust—not a dirty old man pawing at her.
As if she could read his mind, she gave him a soft peck on the cheek, her perfume lingering in his senses as she breathed in his ear, "Are you going to kiss me, Bart?"
He freed his left hand and cupped her cheek. "Are you sure?"
Evelyn mutely nodded, her eyes never leaving his.
He then led her inside to his penthouse, gently shutting the door behind them while never letting go of her hand until they stood in the centre of the living room.
She leaned forward into the contact, their foreheads touching. He rubbed his cheek against Evelyn's and then his lips brushed across hers almost tentatively. When he saw that Evelyn did not flinch, he leaned in again and this time, his lips pressed against hers more confidently. She responded to him, her lips opening under his and her free hand curving around the base of his neck, a small sigh escaping her lips. Bart's other hand went moved from her cheek into her loose hair, brushing through it. He kissed Evelyn as if he was silently reassuring her that he was not going to try anything untoward and that he was overwhelmed by the intensity of how everything felt, and Evelyn understood perfectly. She melded her body against his as his hands enfolded her.
"Bart," she breathed when he moved to the milky white of her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut, her fingers running over his close-cropped hair.
Bart could barely think coherently. Her floral perfume and breathy sighs at his ministrations were driving him wild. He had never felt this way about any woman before.
Until her.
Evelyn Darnay.
She was the first woman Bart did not treat with disdain or contempt. She was incomparable.
Evelyn backed Bart against his couch, straddling him while her lips never once left his own. Despite his body urging him on, Bart clasped her head in his hands, stilling her movements. Her swollen lips and heavy-lidded eyes almost undid his resolve as he attempted to bring his erratic breathing under control.
"Evelyn, we can't…"
She blinked uncomprehendingly. "Can't what?"
"Have sex," Bart said bluntly, tact never his strong point.
Evelyn went red and she tried to extricate herself from his arms. "Oh my God, I'm so embarrassed…I-I-"
"No, no. It's not that I don't want to, but I want to treat you right. You're not like the other women and I certainly don't want to treat you like them. I want to take it slow," reassured Bart, placing a lingering kiss on her lips. As he did so, she ceased struggling in his arms and she returned his kiss.
She threaded their fingers together again, her embarrassment rapidly subsiding at his words. "You are a contradictory man, Bart Bass."
He bowed his forehead against hers, so that they were only inches apart. "How about on the night you turn nineteen, we…"
Evelyn smiled softly at his uncharacteristic loss of words. "Make love?" she whispered.
"Consider it my birthday present to you," he murmured, his warm breath sending tingles through her.
"You, Bart Bass of reputed insatiable sexual appetite, will wait for just under two months to—"
He cut her off with another prolonged kiss and said against her lips, "I told you—you're not like any other woman I've ever met, and you deserve the best."
A choked sound came from her throat. "Bart…I'm…"
He brushed his lips across her forehead. "Surprised?"
Her eyes ducked from his. "I have something to tell you."
"What?"
"I'm not a virgin."
Bart pressed a kiss to each of her tapered fingers on her left hand. "I don't care."
Evelyn looked as if she was about to cry. "You don't?"
"I'm not from the Dark Ages, Evelyn."
She smiled radiantly, her eyes like warm mocha as she peppered kisses over the harsh contours of his face. "The more I learn about you, Bart, the more you surprise me."
She looked upon this man who was known to be cold, calculating and ruthless, but to her, he was a reserved man who kept his emotions in check to protect himself. In the glow of his fireplace, his face was uncommonly warm and relaxed.
"Would you like some wine?" he asked.
"If that means you moving away from me, then no," she laughed softly.
"I'll be quick—you'll be impressed with my superhuman speed," he intoned with mock gravitas, gently placing her on the couch as he rose to the table and unscrewed a red wine.
She could not stop herself grinning like an idiot, feeling as if butterflies were dancing around her stomach. Bart paused at the table when he saw her glowing expression. He tipped his head to examine her. "What?" he asked, amusement lacing his voice.
She kicked off her heels. "Nothing," she imperiously replied.
He smirked and settled beside her on the couch, handing her a glass of wine as he slid his arm around her. "Something must be making you smile like that. The only time a woman has smiled at me like you just have was when I had to fork out half a million dollars because she claimed I fired her without just cause."
Evelyn snorted. "I don't want to make your ego any bigger."
"Fine, fine," said Bar huskily, kissing her once more. "You keep your secrets."
"Are you sure you want to wait till my birthday?" Evelyn purred, placing her glass on the table so she could lean back on the couch, pulling him on top of her.
"Having you lying underneath me is stretching my willpower not to ravish you here and now," he replied, his voice muffled by the skin on her neck.
She gave a breathless sigh, arching her hips up to his.
"You are incorrigible," he groaned, giving her a searing kiss.
"I'm impressed with your self-control."
"You should be."
Bart had never been this carefree with anyone before. Evelyn was the first person he could let down his guard with and trust. She made him forget all the caution he normally applied to his relationships with women. He had only known her for a month, but already he felt as if he had known her for years. The more he found out about her, the more he was attracted to her. Indeed, the composed, regal façade that she projected to society hid the vivacious, generous and sensuous woman that he saw.
And an intensity of emotion gripped him that he did not really want to examine or label at this very moment.
Love.
End of Part One. I hoped you enjoyed it!
