It was mid summer. Billboards and neon signs lit up the night sky in the city that never slept. It was hot out, far too hot for Manhattan standards, with air so thick with humidity that you could cut it with a knife. It was around midnight, or at least it had been the last time Blair Waldorf looked at her phone. She had been sitting at the same club for a little over two hours, drowning herself in priceless bottles of liquor.

To say that this was not typical Waldorf behavior would be the understatement of the year. Daughter of Waldorf Designs', a very famous designer of the moment, a lawyer, and heir to the Waldorf-Astoria, she grew up in a very different lifestyle. She was not the girl that spent her nights partying. If she was attending a party, it was more than likely that she was the host of the gathering. She was the girl that everyone envied and feared, with good reason. She was a perfectionist, always the best grades, most lavish clothing, and perfect boyfriend. Sometimes she even liked to pretend that her life was a film and she was just an actress starring opposite of Cary Grant, or someone equally classy and fabulous. It didn't matter, as long as she had her prince in the end and her fairytale went as scripted.

That however was not the case. When she was nineteen, her mother passed away due to a heroine overdose at the age of 47. It was the biggest scandal to hit Manhattan since Stefani Germanotta was busted snorting coke with fellow yayo enthusiasts Lindsey Lohan, Kate Moss, and Pete Doherty in the bathroom at 10oak. Unfortunately it became the talk of the town, gracing every magazine cover for months. She felt she heart shatter every time she heard someone talk about her mother, like she was dying inside and there was no way to stop the pain from coursing through her petite frame. The police ruled the Death of Eleanor Waldorf as suicide, but Blair new better. Her mother was much too vain to kill herself. Well at least without having a 24 kart gold statue created to act in her place. Truth was that her mother over the last few years, after divorcing her father, had taken the celebrity thing a little too far. She hid it well to avoid scandals' such as her death, but Blair new it, she had always been a little too observant and nosey to miss something of that statute.

A year later and nothing much had changed. Now, twenty years old and head of Waldorf Designs', she was the same uptight bitch as always, if not colder. That was the whole reason that she ended up sitting at the bar in a club she was unfamiliar with, alone, on a night that was far too warm to be outside.

She stared into her martini as she tried to figure out when her film got so off track. More importantly, why no one had called cut yet. Her and her perfect boyfriend of six years had broken up a few hours prior, not to mention she had an early meeting to make in the morning. She just needed to forget. Break loose and forget that she was Blair Waldorf for a few hours. She just needed an escape, she mused dully as she drained the last of her glass. She was vaguely aware that someone had sat down in the bar stool next to her.

"Scotch and give this young lady another of whatever she is drinking, on the house," the man deadpanned, directing his attention to the bartender, not bothering with pleasantries.

She expected some cocky come back from the bartender that had been eyeing her up all night. She was surprised when all he did was mumble a quick 'yes sir' and walk off to fulfill the man's request.

She felt him turn towards her as she forced herself to stare at a spot on the wall in front of her. Great, just what she needed, another jackass to counter act with the jackass she just broke up with. She could feel his eyes on her skin, making it craw. When he didn't turn away after a few seconds she raised her perfectly sculpted eye brows in annoyance at the wall. Why couldn't guys Just take a hint.

She finally offered him a glance when she felt him scoot closer, fully intent on telling him to fuck off, that she wasn't in the mood for his bull shit, but when she finally saw him, all previous thoughts vanished.

The guy sitting next to her happened to be the most gorgeous guy she had ever seen. You could feel the money and power vibrate in the air around him. He was dark, mysterious and hansom. Naturally Blair only wanted the best, Ironicly, she wanted him. Even if it was for just a few hours, or maybe, she just had too much to drink.

"And what is your name beautiful?" He questioned huskily.

"Genevieve Elosie," She responded. The lie slipping easily off her liquor tarted tongue.

"You look like you would have a classic name," he hummed softly, "It suits your presence."

She offered him a tight lipped smile at the unmoving compliment, considering it wasn't her name he was praising, and raised her glass he bought her in a toast.

He mimicked the action with a sexy smirk of his own.

Oh yes, she was in for one hell of a night.