"What do you mean Blair isn't here?" Chuck snapped irritably. He glowered at the foreign maid. "I waited here until after two last night and it is now only nine am. Where the hell does she have to be that she only let herself get six hours sleep?"
"She out." Dorota said firmly, though she glanced nervously at the elevator.
Chuck's face was the picture of dawning comprehension. "She never came home last night did she?"
Dorota's eyes widened and she didn't reply
"Listen Dorota, either you tell me where she is right now or I'll-" Chuck spat furiously.
"You what?" Dorota scoffed. "Break my heart like you broke Miss Blair's?"
Chuck flinched. "Just tell me if she's okay, I read the Gossip Girl blasts."
"I don't know." Dorota admitted finally. "She not call."
"And you're not the slightest bit worried?" Chuck glared at her. "Anything could have happened!"
"Please, sleaziest man in Manhattan is here, who else hurt her?" Dorota replied.
Chuck came closer, "There are worse people then me out there," He snarled.
The elevator dinged and Blair stepped out, her hair was windswept and her clothes were rumpled. She froze upon seeing Chuck standing in front of her. "Dorota go make me breakfast," Blair ordered, her gaze never leaving Chuck. He looked both relieved and furious.
"What are you doing here Bass?" she demanded.
"I came to see you, except you obviously had other plans," he sneered, taking in her disheveled appearance. "Late night? Too many martinis?"
"Something like that," she muttered, rubbing her arms self-consciously.
"Well now that you're here, I'll be off. Enjoy the new boy-toy." He brushed past her but Blair spun around and yelled after him.
"No Chuck, you don't get to do this!" she snapped. "You do not get to act the injured party! What? You think you can surround yourself with call-girls and prostitutes and then come around here and look at me like that? Like I did something wrong,"
"I always have had a fondness for whores, present company included." he retorted.
She glared at him, "If you think so little of me then what are you still doing here?"
"I wanted to make sure you were okay!" he yelled. "You disappeared right after the play and I heard about - "
Blair let out a scathing laugh, effectively cutting him off. "Of course, I should have known. Blair's life falls apart and Chuck Bass is there waiting in the background for her to run to him. Well guess what, I found someone else to pick up the pieces. I don't need you, and you're certainly not all I have left."
He eyed her carefully, "You're bluffing."
Blair just sighed and shook her head tiredly. "I can't deal with you right now, so please Bass, just go."
He gave her one last pressing look, before turning and pressing the button for the elevator. "This conversation isn't over Waldorf."
Blair just blinked back tears and silently trudged upstairs to take a shower.
*****
"Miss Blair, you have guest!"
Blair sighed and picked herself up from her bed. Much as she would love to tell Dorota to send whomever it was away, her perfect society manners made her reconsider. Also she was just the tiniest bit curious to find out who it was. As she walked down the stairs she heard the unmistakable sneer that could only come from one person: Carter Baizon.
She tried not to pay any attention to the little thrill that traveled through her body upon confirming with her eyes what her ears had told, or that she sped up considerably as she made her way down the stairs, or that she had practically bounced down the last few steps, as she calmly approached him.
"Carter, what a pleasant surprise." she said coolly. "Can I help you with something?"
He rolled his eyes and gave her a knowing look. "You can drop the Ice Queen act for a start, and go get changed. I'm taking you out."
Blair scoffed, "You're asking me or you're telling me?"
"Informing you." he clarified. "You still owe me..." he checked his watch. "Eight whole hours."
"Excuse me?"
"You asked - and I use the term asked very loosely - that I show you 'my world' for a night. A night constitutes twelve hours. You only gave me four." he smirked.
"I stayed the whole night with you," Blair reminded him, ignoring Dorota's huff of disapproval.
"The majority of which was spent sleeping," he countered.
"You can not be serious," she cocked her head to one side. "Wait... you are, aren't you? You actually have something planned."
He flushed slightly and Blair's smile widened. "Just hurry up and get dressed, the clock's ticking."
Blair raised an eyebrow and studied him for a few seconds before doing as told and retreating up the stairs.
"And wear pants, not those scraps of fabric you call dresses." He yelled after her.
He would never be sure afterwards if it was a wave Blair gave him in acknowledgement, or if it was the universal sign of annoyance; the middle digit of her right hand. For his sanity he decided to believe the former.
******
"So where are we going?" Blair asked him a few minutes later as they exited her building.
"Just trust me, Blair, you'll like it," Carter promised, taking her hand in his as the crossed the busy street at a run.
"Yes well you should know that I don't trust very easily," she retorted, quickly retracting her hand once they were safely across. "Now either you tell me where you're taking me or I don't move another step."
True to her word she halted right in the middle of the sidewalk. Carter gave her an amused look and she quirked an eyebrow in challenge.
"What's the problem?" he inquired after a few minutes of the silent stand-off.
"How do I know I can trust you?" she replied. "Nate did and he lost ten thousand."
"Nate Archibald is a gullible idiot," he told her. "It would have been stupid of me not to take him for all he's worth."
Blair smiled against her will. "Point taken."
"Besides, if I was going to sell you out what happened last night would be plastered all over Gossip Girl right now," he said.
"For all I know it could be," Blair shrugged, "I haven't checked." Her eyes twinkled. "I seem to remember my cell phone dropping from a great distance last night when you molested me." She started to walk forward again.
Carter let out a bark-like laugh and slung an arm over her shoulder. This time she didn't pull away. "I seem to remember a slightly different version of events, Blair. As I recall, you physically attacked me."
"I did not!" she gasped and slapped his arm. "And anyway, with the amount of narcotics you've inhaled in your life I'd hazard a guess that your brain gets more then a little hazy at times." she huffed.
"What would you know about narcotics, Blair?" he said. "I bet you've never even tried a joint."
Blair just looked at him with her face the picture of innocence before skipping on ahead. "You'd be surprised, Carter." she called back over her shoulder.
"I already am." he muttered before hurrying to catch up with her.
******
Carter carefully guided Blair into the large storeroom, making sure to keep his hand pressed firmly over her eyes. "This better be good Carter," she grouched. "I did not walk half a mile in these heels for nothing."
"I did tell you to wear proper clothing." He warned her to keep to her eyes closed as he rattled about with sheets and plastic. "Okay, you can open them."
Blair opened her eyes to see Carter standing in front of a shiny silver Porsche convertible that had the top down. He looked expectantly at her, awaiting her reaction. "I never would've pegged you for the type of guy who owns a sports car," she remarked as she ran her hand across the smooth body and as she inspected the spotless paint-job.
"Well I never would've pegged you as the type of girl who experiments with drugs." He replied, hopping into the car and turning the keys in the ignition. "Now stop your bitching and get in the damn car." Blair laughed and clambered in after him.
Carter had just carefully maneuvered the car out of the storage room and onto the street when Blair suddenly screeched for him to stop. He turned to glare at her and found her snapping the elastic out of her hair and removing the headband. She quickly ran her hands through it a few times before giving him an impatient scowl. "Well are we going or not?" she demanded.
Carter just groaned and hit his head off of the steering wheel, "What have I gotten myself into?" he wondered aloud.
Blair just flashed him a dazzling smile and turned on the radio.
******
"'Cause I'm not your princess, and this ain't a fairytale, I'm not the one you sweep off your feet, lead her up the stairwell..." Blair sang softly along with the radio, her brown curls flying wild behind her in the wind as they drove down one of the motorways south of the city.
"Must we listen to such chick music?" Carter complained good-naturedly.
"I don't think you want the answer to that," Blair smiled but turned the radio down.
"You know, I really don't understand you Blair, one minute you're all prissy and stuck up, the next your singing and dancing along to the radio." Cater shook his head in bemusement.
Blair looked at him wryly, "I could say the exact same about you."
"Oh?"
"Oh come on Carter, I'm like the only one you're ever nice to. You used to tolerate Nate, you were terrified that Chuck would take over from you in the bad boy department, and you lusted over Serena. The rest of them were barely even worth your time... Face it, you actually like me." Blair said happily.
"Maybe I just find you less annoying then everyone else." Carter pointed out. "Them, they're all fake. Every last one, but you... you're real. Even when you're acting like a spoilt brat there's still a little bit of the real Blair shining through."
"And what does the real Blair say?" She asked quietly.
He stared straight ahead. "That she's scared that everyone she loves will leave her, that she's strong and vulnerable at the same time, that she's always felt second best to Serena, even though to the people that matter she's ten times better... And that she's completely in love with a two-faced, pompous ass who doesn't deserve her." He flashed her a quick smile before changing the subject. "So feel like having a go at driving this thing?" Carter pulled into a country road and stopped the car.
"What?" Blair asked in surprise. "Forget it Carter, no way."
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Blair said nervously as she gripped the steering wheel as if her life depended on it. "This is crazy."
"You'll be fine," Carter promised her. "Now start the engine and press down gently on the accelerator-" The car went lurching forward and Carter went flying into the dashboard. "Gently Blair, gently." He instructed, rubbing his side and glowering at her. "FYI, if you kill me I'm coming back to haunt you."
"That goes for two of us Carter," Blair said through gritted teeth as the car lurched forward again. "And trust me you do not want Blair Waldorf's ghost stalking you till your dying day."
A few hours later:
"This is a much better use of our time," Blair whispered, kissing Carter again as she buttoned up her blouse and pulled on her jeans
"No complaints here," he chuckled, "but it's getting dark, we should be heading back." He kissed her firmly once more before deftly lifting her off him and spinning her back into the passenger's seat and pushing the driver's seat from it's previous reclining position.
"Our seven hours ended twenty minutes ago," Blair teased.
"Hmm, I guess they did. Though to be fair, over half of that was spent in the backseat." He reasoned. "I figure I still have at least three good hours. Enough time to take you to dinner?"
Blair pretended to consider it, "I suppose I could agree to that."
But even as she teased and bantered with Carter, deep down she knew that Chuck was never too far from her mind, and what her and Carter had just done in the back of his car served only to remind her of that night so many months ago when she had finally surrendered herself to the smirking boy with the mysterious eyes in the back of his limo.
