Even with the blindfold, she could still see a fuzzy outline of the tray on the bed in front of her. "Dorota, dim the lights. Turn them off, whatever you have to do. I need complete darkness."
The mattress shifted as the other woman rose to tend to the lights. "Miss Blair, it is midday. You could just close your eyes behind the blindfold," the maid reminded her.
She pouted. "I know that. Just turn them off. And pull the curtains shut, too." Blair scooted on the duvet until she was cross-legged and comfortable. This was an important task – nothing could interrupt the tasting.
Dorota did as told, and Blair felt the other woman rejoin her on the bed. "When you are ready."
Assured that she could not see the tray, nor the tell-tale wrappings of the pieces in front of her, she nodded. "At random, Dorota. We need to pick five. And then I want a swirl for the fountain."
She held open her mouth patiently, waiting for the woman to unwrap the first piece and set it gracefully upon her tongue. No one threw a fondue party like Blair Waldorf. Only the finest gruyere and emmental was allowed, and Blair's guest list underwent similar scrutiny. Fondue at the Waldorfs was like an Aston Martin – fondue at some restaurant like The Magic Pot was more like a Buick. A Buick driven by Dan Humphrey.
The cheese tasting having been completed the day before, it was time to pick the chocolate. When it came to chocolate, it had to be the best, and she wouldn't allow her predilection for fancy truffles in pretty wrappings to suffice. No, this chocolate had to be sampled without prejudging, and so here she was awaiting the first of the choices on the tray.
The first piece, which she guessed might have been a Lindt product, probably the Madagascar one, was rich and flavorful. She let it settle for a few seconds before chewing and swallowing. Dorota placed a glass of water and a saltine cracker in her outstretched hands seconds later. "Might be too rich…definitely want to dip fruit in that instead of sweets."
She sipped more of the water while Dorota scribbled down the results of the first taste test on a notepad. They continued on with the next several samples, although Blair almost wanted to stop after the horrifying white chocolate garbage that had somehow made it onto the tray. She was ready for the last few when she heard the elevator door open on the floor below.
"Dorota, don't you dare…"
"Miss Blair…"
She wagged her finger at the woman, hoping that she was pointing in Dorota's direction. "Whoever it is, they are not more important than chocolate!"
The mattress dipped again, and Blair frowned. Typical Dorota. The maid hurried from the room with quick footsteps, closing the bedroom door behind her. Well, she supposed she could unmask and sample the rest on her own, but she'd know immediately what she was trying based on the shape, wrapper, indentations…it was best to wait until Dorota came back. The chocolate tasting had to be impartial, and she didn't want to ruin the progress she'd already made with the samples. She had three definites and a few maybes. Blair didn't want to settle on anything until she had tried them all.
The bedroom door opened a few minutes later and was closed quietly. The mattress sank again with additional weight, and she sighed. "You've totally thrown me off, Dorota. I hope your notes are good. Anyhow, next?"
She held open her mouth expectantly, awaiting the next sample. A small piece met her tongue seconds later – and it tasted so good that she ignored Dorota's finger grazing her chin as she backed away. Not too sweet, not too bitter. It would be melted perfection. She was already imagining dipping a few strawberries in it. "This one's a keeper. Swiss? Bavarian?"
"Hershey."
Blair nearly jumped out of her skin, ripping the blindfold off. Sitting before her with that damned smirk was Chuck Bass. "What are you doing here?" Her eyes briefly flitted across the tray before her, ruining any progress she'd made. Chuck had apparently brought his own chocolate, as there were a few Hershey Kisses on the tray that she knew Dorota had not put there.
She picked up a handful of saltines and threw them at his face, hoping they'd break and the crumbs would lodge themselves in his ridiculous lavender ascot. Chuck remained unfazed, sitting comfortably with the tray between him and her. "Is it fondue time already?"
She slid from the bed, infuriated. Why did Dorota even let him in? He was persona non grata! Blair had even briefly considered having the doorman downstairs post "No Chuck Bass Allowed" signs in the lobby.
Pacing the floor, she contemplated the myriad things she could do to Chuck Bass. Most of them involved her beating him to a bloody pulp with the silver tray that bore the chocolate burden at present. "What do you want?" she asked him, gritting her teeth.
He held up his hands in innocence. "To volunteer my services?"
"I don't need my party guests dying from syphilis-infected fondue."
Chuck smiled at that. "Come on now, Blair…you know I'm not contagious any more," he joked.
She opened the bedroom door. "Out."
Instead of being agreeable, he brushed the saltines from his blazer and helped himself to a Ghirardelli square. "I have some information for you. I assume you'd rather hear it from me than from Gossip Girl?"
Her grip on the doorknob wavered, but she wouldn't show any weakness in front of him. "What, is the chocolate not free trade? Does Blair Waldorf hate farmers in Africa? That's hardly news, Chuck."
He shrugged. "I just thought you'd want to know that Serena and Puppy…I'm sorry, Poppy," he announced cheerily, "will be hosting a wine and cheese event the same night as your fondue party."
She closed the door again, her heart sinking. "What?"
Chuck took a raspberry truffle and tossed in his mouth, taking an obnoxiously long time to suck a spare sliver of chocolate from his thumb. "You heard me. I just thought you'd want a heads up on the double booking, that's all."
He stood, moving his way over to her. He always crowded her space, insinuating himself far closer than he had to. She could barely concentrate on the infuriating news. Serena and her new little cokehead pal trying to upstage her fondue event? She was ready to tear her hair out…or even better, Poppy's ratty extensions. What was going on with Serena? Why was she doing this?
And what's more, why was Chuck bothering to tell her?
"What makes you think I care if Serena's having a party?" she snapped at him, though she knew that there wasn't enough bite in her words. Chuck always knew how to rattle her with his proximity. Didn't he hate her now? Why come all the way over? Was it to gloat?
Instead, he looked down at her, his face just as amused as always. "I'm merely the messenger. Kiss for my trouble?"
She scowled. "I'd rather eat my own toe."
He grinned, plucking a Hershey Kiss from his pocket and pressing it against her lips, the brief taste of the foil wrapper irritating her. "I suppose that will have to suffice." He stepped back so she could open the door for him. "Oh, and they're having gelato, too. Just an FYI."
She slammed the door in his face, disgusted. Blair listened to his sauntering footsteps retreat as he headed back downstairs. She would never understand Chuck Bass, not that she really wanted to. Flopping down on the bed, she turned away from the chocolate tray in a huff. Whatever, Serena and Poppy could have their stupid party. Who would turn down fondue at the Waldorfs for hangovers and blow at Serena's?
Everybody, the niggling voice in her head told her. She rolled onto her stomach, taking a Hershey Kiss from the tray and eating it with a sigh. Everybody.