A/N: Yaaaaaaay, I'm updating!! *claps* Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!!!!! Lolol. I know you're psyched. XD Thanks so much for the story alerts, favoriting and especially the reviews!! You make my life, seriously. Onward! ;p

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Ch.2—Heart of the Matter

He sighed. Perhaps he shouldn't have had so much confidence.

The hotel had seemed like a brilliant idea—at the time. Blair's repeat 'I believe in you' speech the day prior had been the only ammunition he needed to follow through with his plans.

Scoff.

Blair.

Perhaps he should blame it on her. It would certainly be easier than placing himself in that guilty situation again.

But no, this was his fault. As pissed as he was at Blair, he couldn't blame his inevitable failure on her. He should have known that call from Serena could've been anything but good news. And so close to his supposed opening too…

Sigh.

Now what was he going to do? He could still open it and hope for the best. That's what he had done for Victrola and that had gone pretty well. But…

The sound of soft chatter distracted him and he smiled, nodding at the few stragglers wandering into his club. There were drinks and food and entertainment. But twenty people at most? That was anything but a successful opening night. He would've been better hashing out his argument with Blair, though it wasn't like that would've fixed itself—even ten days later, fake demeanor dissolved.

He had been fooling himself to think Blair would take seriously his need for her to trust him, for her not to lie, and for her to see past the act she had coerced him into doing. Obviously kissing a guy was not that big of a deal, hardly anything in fact. It was the fact that she manipulated, that she took their game and used it against him. He couldn't believe he had fallen in so obliviously to her schemes.

He just never thought…

Sigh.

"Great party," a woman commented, taking a sip of her martini and smiling at him. He nodded, forcing a smile.

"Thanks," he said, turning away from her and striding across the room. Even if he had it in him to cheat on Blair, which he never would (he was so unquestionably in love with her, whether they were fighting or not), he certainly wouldn't do it with that wanna-be tramp. Wasn't anyone analyzing who did and didn't come through those polished wooden doors? Not that he entirely cared. He just wanted people there, period.

Two hours and counting of the official opening and there were…twenty people.

He shook his head.

Some more talking, a few clanking of heels and men who tipped their hats to him as they passed through the doors. Great. Twenty-FOUR people. He grumbled. More silence. Half an hour later and still more silence. He paced the hallway outside the room, unable to be his normally 'cheery' self with potential return guests in the room. There was more talking he had to admit. At least these people didn't mind that there were less than thirty people in the room able to fit up to five hundred.

Sigh.

A figured passed him, and he nodded his thanks to the additional customer. Then again, and again, and again! His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up to the individuals—and soon crowds—making their way into the room. Suddenly the music grew louder. He heard the bartender call for some assistance and the strobe lights finally were put into action spinning across the room.

Chuck turned his front gaze to the barely opened front door of the hotel and found that the wider he opened the door, the faster people entered the building seeming to be in desperate need as to the location of the club. His eyes widened and he directed them towards it, reveling in the fact that so many people were intrigued by his recently assumed failure.

He walked outside the building, noticing more excitedly how nearly every person that happened to be walking down the block turned and entered his hotel, looking for his club. He stepped to the side readily to let them in. Their eyes glowed as they smiled and nodded to him.

"Great idea, Sir."

"I can even bring my kids to this in a couple hours!"

"I really admire your enthusiasm in bringing the public in for the holidays."

"This is far better than some lame costume party."

And the compliments kept on coming. He almost had to avoid his gaze when a group of giggly teens scrambled in past him. Chuck shook his head, completely flabbergasted as to how this had suddenly happened. That was when he saw it.

A man, clearly on the border of drunkenness, pointed to something behind him and Chuck turned to look, losing his focus on the current amazement of guests flooding in. He gaped at the sign propped on the sidewalk. It showed a picture of a burlesque dancer—her face was hidden. It was almost provocative, but still had an element of class to it—as did its advertising words beneath and above the colored image—darkened in the face. He looked up from it and noticed how the propped sign was duplicated and centered on the sidewalk of several blocks straight ahead. He turned his head in the opposite direction and found the same result. His hand found the back of head and scratched at his neck almost awkwardly. Who could have done this? And why would people bring their kids to this later?

His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, and once a break in the massive line appeared he found his way back indoors and inside the giant club room. There were tons of people now, and the bartender widened his eyes in an almost panic. Immediately Chuck called the front desk, ordering several more employees in the club room to assist. In less than five minutes the chaos had calmed down a bit, but it was noisy and people were enjoying themselves, almost to an unhealthy degree.

And then there she was.

The crowd had grown louder, started shouting, cheering and flat out tossing their heads about in some type of pure ecstasy.

"It's her, it's her!" he heard a man comment to what looked like a friend beside him. "It's the girl that I was telling you about—from Victrola."

The man beside him gasped. "That's her?! She's hot! Did they say why she never came back?"

The first man shook his head, still in amazement of the girl on stage. "No, I think she must have been in high school or something."

"Seriously?!" the second man spat out a mouthful of his alcohol.

The first man laughed. "Yeah, I mean—"

Chuck tuned out the rest of their conversation and moved slowly closer to the stage, his eyes pinned to her. From the way her hair fell down her back, to the silky barely there slip clinging to her figure. And her eyes—those eyes—he'd never forget them, not even when in a rage to her unthinkable actions.

"Hey boys," she spoke seductively, leaning over to the men hanging on her every movement just barely inches from the stage.

He shook his head. This was unbelievable. She was unbelievable. Chaos. Absolute chaos in his head.

The butterflies erupted in his stomach and he could feel his heart beating wildly against him. He gulped, unable to take his eyes away from her. She looked even more stunning than that first night he had seen her like this. She was breathtaking when she let herself loose; when she unleashed the side of herself she had hardly known about until he came along.

"Blair," he mouthed in a barely whisper.

And then more dancers erupted from the darkened space near the back of the stage. They followed her movements and made the crowds go wild, helplessly gathering their own existences closer to where she was.

He shook his head. Unbelievable.

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Two dances later, and she was already preparing to leave.

Chuck's eyes widened at the sight of her stepping down off the stage and wandering through the crowd. The men were practically drooling but he saw their upset facial expressions at the realization that she was heading for the exit.

"Hey!"

"Wait!"

"Come back!!"

"More!"

"Sorry boys," she turned back to them and winked, continuing to walk further away without looking back. For the moment they focused back on the other dancers, though the enthusiasm was certainly not as…enthusiastic. Then she spotted Chuck standing in front of the exit and sighed on approaching him. "Get out of the way, Chuck."

He shook his head incredulously at her. "I can't believe you."

She bit her bottom lip in mock-apology. "Oh, I'm sorry, Chuck. I know you didn't want me to come, but I seem to recall a couple occurrences when I told you not to come and you certainly didn't listen." She looked knowingly at him in arrogance.

"I'll see you at your party tonight."

"You're officially uninvited."

"Never stopped me before!"

He scoffed. "You can't be serious."

"Mmm," she pondered, tapping a finger to her chin in thought before focusing back on him. "Heard that one before too." She rolled her before walking around him and heading towards the door.

"How'd you get in? I told them specifically not to let you in if you should try to come." His voice was demanding and she smiled at the hint of panic in his words.

She turned back around and took a couple steps toward him. "Blair Waldorf does not give up," she whispered, and if he didn't hear her he certainly read her lips well enough. She was repeating his words. "I found the side entrance," she shrugged. "Besides, I brought burlesque dancers with me, Chuck, and quite a few of them did not mind in the least when I sent them off with the guard instead of backstage."

He scoffed, forcing the amazement encircling his mind to burst through to the surface.

"But where are your dancers?" she glanced around. "I thought you were getting 'entertainment'."

He was still gaping.

"Oh wait, I did see them. They just looked like complete trash." She beamed.

"Blair—"

"What?!" she snapped, taking another step towards him.

His mouth smacked shut, and he knew what was happening. She was unraveling.

"If you're not going to forgive me," she crossed her arms across her chest. "Then—"

"I said I forgave you," his teeth ground against each other.

"It's not called forgiveness if you can't give me another chance and at least try to trust me again!"

His lips pursed tightly.

"So," she shrugged carelessly, "if you're not going to forgive me, I don't see how a little strip act is going to mess with your little…" her fingers flitted in front of her in way of a gesture, "…grudge."

He sighed, frustrated. "I'm not—"

She closed her eyes briefly, holding up a hand for him to stop. "Please, I don't need your pity, or your 'different term'. It's all the same. And though your guests," she said, pointing to the crowd before them, "seem to have quite enjoyed my presence, and…what is that?" she put a hand to her ear, leaning in their general direction. "Oh, It seems they've quieted down," she chuckled a bit, covering her parted lips over with a few delicate fingertips. "Point being, though you don't need me they seem to want me. Good luck with your…" her expression turned into disgust as she spotted a few of the girls he had brought in, "…entertainment."

She turned on her feet, smiling no more than a step away as the feel of his hand gripped around her shook her, and with no unease at all she spun back towards him, having expected no less.

"Don't go," he pleaded. It was the first time in over a week he seemed to really, genuinely want her around.

"Why?" her voice was stern. She was sick of this fake new trust. She had apologized, had tried to do everything and anything right to fix things, but it wasn't enough. Suddenly she snapped her arm out of its encasement, hardly an original plan of hers. "You don't even know why we're together anymore."

His face fell to her statement, though it wasn't exactly like he could question where she had gotten it from. "Blair, I didn't mean—"

"Oh, you didn't mean it? Sounds an awful lot like Cotillion, doesn't it?"

His eyes widened in panic.

She turned to face him completely and took one step closer, waiting for him to defend himself even with the accusation of what she had done.

Nothing.

She shook her head in despair, though it was hardly what came across. "You said you didn't need me and you didn't want me."

"Not you," he insisted, closing up the final standing distance between them and forcing her to let his hands encase hers again. "I just," he sighed, "I didn't want you here tonight. But not you together. I want you in my life," he almost gasped at the thought of her not in his life.

Her gaze drifted to the ground, avoiding the sight of their hands. Her arms grown so limp in his soft hold, but then her eyes flashed to his and she snapped at him, recalling his previous defense that morning. "Are you going to accuse me of not trusting or respecting you again?!" she pulled her hands away, "Because when Serena told me your deal was falling through and that she didn't know what to do, well…let's just say I sure as hell didn't come here for my own benefit." Her eyes narrowed and she took a small step away from him. "The only reason you want me here now is because I drew attention to your club, isn't it?"

He searched her eyes for some way out but honestly couldn't find one. The truth was staring him in the face and he didn't know how to fix it, because she was right. She had done everything she possibly could in saving them, but…apparently it wasn't enough.

She shook her head, and sighed, really hating that she had brought the truth so bluntly to the surface. "I love you…and you love me, but," she gulped, "It's not enough, is it?"

His eyes widened again, feeling that statement was awfully close to ones he had heard when something wonderful was about to end. Some sort of romantic relationship, whether it be dating, marriage or whatever else.

"Blair," he began, his voice breaking. He had been so strong, so harsh to her, but this was going too far. This was out of hand. She wasn't ending this, them. He wouldn't let her. He should have acted and forgiven, or at least offered up a hint of what he wanted her to do—to prove herself. But maybe she should have known, since she knew him so well. Maybe…

"What?"

"This thing between us, it's over. For good."

She sighed frustratingly and shook her head, desperate to get out of there, to be free of this anxiety. "Goodbye, Chuck."

He gulped.

"Good luck with your club opening…the rest of the night," she looked at him sincerely, holding back tears, and turning her gaze to brief glances around the room, "It looks incredible."

A forced small smile.

A desire to touch him, if only a pat or squeeze on the shoulder…but too much fear of how it would haunt and consume her.

Scoff.

Happy Halloween.

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A/N: Ha, aww…I made them both really mean!! I…I'm sorry. *hopes you will all still review lol XD* It's only a 3-part though, so the next chapter will end happily, if that's any incentive. Tell me what you thought! ;D

***Oh! And just so you know…in the reviews, *sigh* just please don't assume I think CB are over. Lol. A lot of you did that in my last POST 3X05/SPOILER 3X06 3-part fic, and I don't by any means. I know CB are going to end well, especially by the end of this next episode…I'm just trying to get through the week of depressing memories from spoilers/prior episode(s) in between. So don't worry and don't try to convince me to "believe in them", because I already totally do. I'm just way sensitive to even the little fights. Lol. ;p