In a room high above the bustle of Manhattan's morning traffic, Carter was bored out of his mind. Yet again. Although at least this time he wasn't at a party or dull society event. This time, at least, it was business. And it wasn't business that made him bored so much as how ridiculously long it took other people to conduct it. People that just seemed to enjoy wasting his time.

He was trapped in the stifling room because Victoria had wanted him to meet with his father's lawyers. Carter knew even before he went what about - his mother had, of course, turned a blind eye to anything going on with the company after the death of her husband. Decided she couldn't handle it and it was beyond her capabilities, even though Carter knew damn well that it wasn't.

He'd agreed only to get her off his back. And because he knew it wouldn't get sorted otherwise. But Carter had left New York precisely because he didn't want to end up behind Edward's desk for the rest of his life. Doing nothing and seeing nothing year after year. Being told what to do by stupid bureaucrats.

"Is everything clear, Mr. Baizen?" The balding attorney regarded him over his spectacles.

Carter sighed. They'd been sat in the same smoky office for the past few hours - and they hadn't even offered him a drink. Was it clear? Exactly who did these suits think they were dealing with? Inheritance was hardly a difficult concept to grasp. "The board gets a seventy percent controlling shareholding. Ten percent goes to my mother, and another ten percent to me." Non-controlling - thank God. Clearly Carter's father had taken his disappearance to mean he was no longer fit to run his precious company. And as long as Carter got the money, he was quite content with that. "The remaining ten percent is owned by the public."

"Not exactly." One of the lawyers cleared his throat. "There's another clause, just here..." Of course it was a clause that they'd failed to address in all their legal waffle.

Carter waited impatiently while the man shuffled through the papers in front of him. For God's sake. All Carter cared about was his ten percent - he didn't give a damn whether the rest was given to the public or not.

"Ah, yes." The lawyer blinked. "It says here that in the case of you assuming your ten percent," he glanced at the papers again, "In the case that you are, in fact, present to assume it-" (Carter repressed an eye-roll) "-Then that remaining ten percent will be given to Waldorf Designs."

Carter stared. "What?" And his boredom had dissipated, just like that. He must have misheard.

Two of the men exchanged a glance. "Well, the late Mr. Baizen wasn't sure that you'd be contactable for the division of the company. He suggested that if that were the case - if you weren't in the country - then, ah, seventy percent would go to the board, ten percent to his wife, ten percent to Waldorf Designs - and ten percent to the public. But in the case of you returning, then that last ten percent would go to you instead." They attempted to show Carter the papers. "We appreciate that it's a little complicated-"

"It's not complicated," Carter snapped back. Jesus. Insane was what it was - it made no sense. Why on earth would his father leave ten percent to the Waldorfs after everything that had happened? That union was finished. Carter had finished it. "Are you sure he didn't mean to amend this?" he demanded.

The other men shifted in their seats. They didn't appreciate being snapped at. "That was the amendment," one of them spoke up at last. "Mr. Baizen. The change was made after you left."

Carter's jaw flexed. "I see."

Had Edward been experiencing a crazy bout of guilty conscience for his son's actions? It didn't sound much like the Edward Baizen that Carter remembered. Although, truth be told, that memory seemed to grow less clear and more faded every day.

"So if you'd just like to sign here..."

"Do the Waldorfs know?" Carter interrupted.

"Waldorf Designs hasn't officially been notified by us yet. Of course, your father may have informed the company of his decision already...but we're not at liberty to declare the information to them until these papers have been signed." The man speaking gave a pointed nod at the documents on the desk.

So they'd know soon.

"Mr Baizen?"

"All right," Carter sighed again. The sun that filtered through the office's window was suddenly giving him the worst headache. Christ, he needed a scotch. "Get me a pen."

The same morning sunlight poured into another room on the other side of Central Park. Blair glanced up from her dresser as she sensed the familiar presence at her door. Sure enough, Chuck had just prowled in. And of course he'd got by Dorota without so much as an announcement of his arrival.

He watched her for a moment, their eyes meeting in the mirror. And he took her in with great appreciation. She was dressed in a tight black and white checked dress, pencil skirt and elbow-length sleeves. Her hair was curled and pulled partially back. She looked, in short, like she meant business.

"It's such a shame that you're interning for Waldorf Designs and not Bass Industries," he murmured. Though he doubted very much that if she were actually working at his father's company, he'd be able to keep his eyes off her for more than a second.

She set down the dark red lipstick she'd just finished applying. "I'm hardly interning." She got to her feet, allowing him to appreciate her legs in those black velvet heels. "And we're both meant to be working." Her mouth curled a little. "Not having sex." Because were she at Bass Industries, she was fairly certain she'd be more interested in putting the expanse of a certain polished desk to use. Chuck in business attire did get her blood going. And the black pinstriped suit he currently sported? Case in point.

She was unable to resist smoothing his lapels as she approached him. "I'm busy. You need to leave, Bass."

His hands found her waist. "Waldorf," he purred. "You're so tense, and the day hasn't even started." He tugged her closer as his fingers slid over her hips, breathing in the light scent of her perfume. The hint of vanilla underneath that was purely Blair. "At least let me rectify that..."

Her pulse increased. And she very nearly let herself get lost in his touch - but then she remembered herself and slapped him away. "Oh, no. You're not messing up my hair. Or my dress." She gave him a light push. "I thought you had a meeting this morning?"

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Bart's still in Europe. The meeting was cancelled."

Blair winced inwardly on his behalf. He'd been prepping for that meeting all week - yet another reason for her to hate his father. But she placed her hands on her hips. "So you thought you'd come and distract me instead?" She shook her head. "Uh-uh. No. Do you know who I'm meeting today?"

"No idea," Chuck responded drily. She'd only told him fifty times. In fact, she'd showed up at his suite last week for the sole purpose of telling him. And as delighted as he'd been with her excitement, he'd been even more delighted to discover just how much that excitement turned her on. But then, he'd reflected as she'd shoved him down onto his bed, he'd always known how arousing she found couture.

Her eyes slanted now. "Givenchy." She said the name like it was holy. She'd gasped it enough times on his mattress. "Givenchy, Chuck." It wasn't just Givenchy, of course; it was also the fact that he happened to dress a certain one of her idols.

Chuck pulled her to him again. He had, in fact, only showed up to wish her luck. She was practically quivering with excitement now - as he'd known she would be - no matter how hard she tried to keep it contained.

Givenchy was signing a deal with her mother's company. It was possibly the only time Blair had been even more obsessed with a deal than Eleanor was. She'd found out the day after the disastrous yacht party - and ruined dresses and ex-boyfriends had been forgotten in a second. She'd burst into Chuck's suite and completely ignored the hangover he was still suffering from. (And he'd soon forgotten about it too). The past week had been spent just trying to prove to her mother that she had what it took to sit in on today's meeting.

"If I do well today," Blair said reverently - like she hardly dared hope - "Then Eleanor's going to let me go with her to Paris. And do you know who's filming in Paris at the moment?"

He just smirked at her. And he couldn't stop the painful squeeze in his chest, purely because she was so happy. He hadn't seen her this happy - not counting when she was in bed with him - since a certain blonde had returned. Actually, since a certain blonde had left. He was also quite aware that the harder she focused on this meeting, then the less time she had to think about said blonde. "Croissants with Audrey," he mused.

"Audrey Hepburn," Blair corrected, "Does not eat croissants." But he could see the mere idea was making her giddy. She regained her composure with a stern frown. "Have you seen her figure?"

Chuck was a little too distracted with another brunette's figure - the only brunette that he cared about - to notice anyone else's. He placed a kiss on her jaw before she could stop him. "You'll have them all eating out of the palm of your hand," he murmured against her warm skin.

Her eyes closed, briefly, at his touch. "I better."

His thumb grazed the small of her back. "Not even a question, Waldorf."

She allowed herself a smile up at him. Her brown eyes were alight and for a second he found it hard to swallow. Or hard not to smile back like an idiot, anyway. He let her go.

But she caught his sleeve before he could turn away. "Try not to have too much fun in the office without Bart." She was still gripping his jacket as her lips curved. "And I might just reward you later." He cocked an eyebrow at her and she grinned. "What can I say? I'm in a good mood."

"Really?" he enquired. "I had no idea."

She smirked, and her fingers brushed his chest. "It happens." She used the same hand to push him to the door. (Before she gave into temptation and started unbuttoning that shirt). "Now go!"

He was still grinning as he headed out of her room.

Some people might have said that midday was too early for hard liquor. Carter was not one of them. And the dim mahogany interior of the Madison Club Lounge was a perfect escape from the glaring sun outside. Carter had been in far hotter cities than Manhattan - but somehow the heat of is seething concrete was oppressive, now, in a whole other way.

And the ice in his scotch was the best remedy for that.

They were never going to take it. There was no way in hell that he could envisage Eleanor Waldorf accepting a single thing from his family. And Blair would never even let her consider it. Not when she couldn't stand anything - anything - to do with him. (He'd found his jacket left on the chair in Nate's yacht once the party had ended).

Why the hell had his father decided it would be a good idea? Maybe it was a good thing Edward Baizen died when he did, because he'd clearly been losing it. And now Carter was stuck in this stupid city, dealing with the mess his even stupider father had made, and pondering for possibly the thousandth time why, why, why he'd ever decided to come back. He could be sleeping his way through all the beauties of Australia at this very moment. Instead of thinking about the cold smile of a girl who so clearly loathed him.

And when had Carter Baizen ever cared about being hated before? He didn't care. He liked being hated, loved winding people up and driving them crazy. He'd used to drive her crazy sometimes. Her far less than anyone else - but still he'd used to say things just sometimes just to provoke her, just for his own amusement. And she'd used to pretend to be angry, but the truth was that Blair Waldorf forgave the people she loved far too easily. She never forgot, and she always expected better. The best. But she craved love and affection too much to ever cut herself off from the people she cared about.

Which could only mean, of course, that she no longer cared about him. Because she sure as hell wasn't having any problems cutting him off now. But what did he care? He was the one who'd left her. The only reason she kept invading his thoughts was habit; because he still couldn't get used to her not looking at him. Couldn't get used to the absence of that look on her face. But he damn well didn't have a conscience like his fool of a father seemed to have developed, and he most certainly didn't do remorse. He didn't regret getting out of this hellhole. Not for a second. The dullness of today's meeting had confirmed that for him. If he hadn't left, that dullness would be his life. Every day. If he hadn't left then he'd be focused on sobering up once he left this bar, headed home to a townhouse and - her.

And she'd be the perfect, perfect wife in pearls and a twinset. (She'd be his perfect, perfect wife). The way it was always meant to have been. He'd be sleeping with her by now. She'd be in his bed. He'd have her kisses and her adoration and the way she smiled when he gave her flowers.

Fuck all of it.

Carter Baizen didn't waste time wondering what might have been. He didn't waste time thinking about the same thing, over and over. He was beyond sick of it. He'd made his decision. It was done. That was that. It wasn't ever going to be again.

His increasingly irritated thoughts were disturbed by an all too familiar laugh. He groaned under his breath. Oh, great. That was all he needed. He turned on his barstool to see a certain blonde smiling at the doorman. She was dressed even more ridiculously than usual - especially given that the sun hadn't even set yet - and he honestly hadn't thought it was possible for her skirts to get any shorter. The little green number she was wearing proved him wrong. He'd heard that miniskirts were starting to become the latest craze, but there were still few Upper East Side princesses that would dare to wear them in daylight.

(And he knew Blair wasn't one of them).

But Serena seemed oblivious to that fact as she floated into the bar. The doorman was all too eager to show her a seat; the waiter was already popping up to take her order, eyes glued to her legs. Carter raised his eyes heavenwards.

"Don't you think it's a little soon to be drinking alone?" he drawled.

Serena tilted her head as she noticed him. Tossed her hair. "I'm meeting a friend."

"I didn't know Blair frequented bars this early in the day."

The blonde's eyes narrowed at him for a moment. But she soon brushed it off with a careless shrug. "I said a friend." She picked up the Sidecar the waiter had set down in front of her.

Carter knew enough (more than enough) about Blair and Serena's friendship - he'd had enough experience of Blair dropping anything, even him, to rush to the blonde's aid in the past. Although he'd assumed his and Serena's night in Santorini was proof they weren't exactly on good terms anymore. Still, he couldn't resist pushing. "And Blair is?"

Serena put her glass back on the bar. "What's with all the questions about Blair, Carter?" He scowled - Serena regarded him. Then she gave a little shake of her head. "Do you really think you stand a chance with her after what you did?" she asked. "Really?"

"Careful, van der Woodsen." Carter's tone stayed flat and unaffected. "You're sounding awfully protective of someone you supposedly hate."

"And you're sounding like you don't know her at all," came Serena's stubborn reply. She shook her head again. "I don't hate Blair. She's not my problem anymore." Carter's look of skepticism was returned with a raised eyebrow. "She's pretty much to me what you are to her. Nothing."

The scotch was bitter and it burned Carter's mouth as he swallowed it. "Well, it's been great talking." He tossed the glass down and stood up. "As always."

He didn't bother looking back as he stalked out - but he stopped upon reaching the door. And snorted, glancing at the girl before him. The girl just about to enter, who was without a doubt the friend Serena was meeting. He should have known, really. "What are you doing back in town?" he sighed.

The girl just smirked at him. "Serena called, said she wanted to party..."

"So here you are."

She chuckled. "Here I am."

"Enjoy," Carter scoffed. He was already moving past her to go.

"Oh, I will."

He left as her eyes focused on the blonde inside. It looked like Serena had started the party without her. Well, she thought wickedly. It looked like Savannah and Svetlana were back.

Chuck gazed out over the city skyline, hands shoved into his pockets. He remembered staring at the same buildings as a child. Remembered enjoying the knowledge that so many of those buildings were his father's and would one day be his.

And now when he looked at them all he could think was that he couldn't wait to take them all away from the man.

Blair peeked her head round the door of Chuck's office. She'd been about to positively jump on him - and pin him straight to his desk - but seeing him silhouetted at the window made her pause. She smiled, faintly. She could seen the tension in his shoulders, the rigidity under his fitted jacket. And the afternoon sunlight that glanced off his dark hair, so familiar, made her insides twinge painfully.

She locked the door behind her and crept into the room in silence.

She slipped her arms round him, hands sliding up his chest as her head curved round to rest on his shoulder. She felt him start against her - and then relax into her hold as he realised who it was. His own head turned to meet hers, eyes travelling over her face. "It went well." Pride curled in his voice.

She grinned. "It was...amazing. Even better than I imagined." And that was saying something. "Eleanor's flying out to Paris today. But she says that if I carry on like this - then there's a ticket next month with my name on it." She could barely contain her glee.

Chuck smiled and dropped a kiss to the hand still resting on his chest. Her chin pressed into his collarbone as she held him tighter, eyes closing in happiness. They both watched the cloudless blue sky. Her gaze followed his to the other skyscrapers, and she moved even closer to him so that her voice whispered against his ear. "We're going to beat him." Her fingers wrapped around the collar of his shirt. "We are."

He turned into her then, desire clenching in his chest. She smirked and her arms twined around his neck.

"Are you ready for your reward now?" she teased.

In answer, he picked her up - her thighs wrapped round him straight away - and carried her to his desk. Her mouth collided hungrily with his, fingers reaching for his shirt buttons. She pushed the jacket off his shoulders. And he slid her skirt up her legs as one hand buried in her hair.

"God," she moaned, biting down on his lip. He'd already caught her hips and tugged her panties off. Her back arched up off the desk as his fingers caressed her inner thigh. "You know Givenchy is designing a perfume just for Audrey, and he gave us the test samples-" Chuck smirked as she dragged his shirt off, fingers digging greedily into his back. He pulled her closer to him on the desk. Her breath was coming out in short gasps, now, while he stroked in between her legs. "And you know the Givenchys are descended from Venitian nobility-" She was cut off by her own moan, reaching out to unzip his pants. He let her carry on as her legs curled around his torso and he rubbed against her, bracing his hands against the desk. He kissed her neck, sucked her earlobe. "...House of Givenchy, and I could actually get the chance to work there-"

He thrust into her and she whimpered in pleasure. Her legs gripped him even tighter. "I love couture."

"I love couture on you," he agreed breathlessly as his hand reached behind to unzip her dress, still filling her as he pinned her to the desk with his body. God, she was so tight and her hair smelt so delicious and her skin was so soft -

"I love Givenchy," she moaned, head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

"I love Givenchy too," he assured her. And he really, really did. Now he knew the only thing he needed to say to get her really, really -

"I love perfume!"

They were both getting closer and closer to the brink, and he could smell - taste - the perfume on her collar bone, the hollow of her neck, in between her breasts - and he loved it so much that it slipped out before he could even stop it, think about it - "I love you."

The words echoed.

Realisation dawned, and they both paused. He was suddenly, painfully aware that Blair had frozen underneath him. And that he was frozen too. Blair bit her lip, hard -

And a brusque knock at the door snapped them out of it. "Charles?" The male voice was muffled through the heavy wood, but horribly recognisable. Bart. It was Bart's voice. Bart was on the other side of the door. And they were both half-naked on Chuck's desk, still wrapped in each other and in a very, very compromising position.

Blair reacted first, shoving Chuck off her and leaping to her feet. "What the hell is he doing back?" she hissed. Her eyes were wide with panic.

"I have no idea." The same panic coursed through Chuck's veins as he attempted to do up his pants and re-button his shirt. Blair, meanwhile, was yanking at her zip to try and get her dress back on; but she couldn't reach and it was stuck. Genuine fear gripped her as the door handle turned - then she remembered that she'd locked it and relief flooded her.

"Chuck. What's going on in there?" Bart sounded annoyed now.

She went back to frantically trying to do up her dress. To no avail.

"For God's sake," she whispered, furious, as she tugged and twisted at the damn thing. "I can't have got fatter in the past ten minutes-"

Chuck grabbed her then, turning her to do it up himself. It finally slid closed without a problem. She let herself breathe for a second, Chuck's hands still on her arms - and then she realised she had no idea where her underwear was.

"Open this door, Charles."

She scanned the room desperately. Where had Chuck thrown her La Perlas? She couldn't believe how careless they'd been. How careless she'd been. What the hell had she been thinking, coming here? And how the hell was she even going to get out? Bart was going to see her. And then he was going to figure out exactly what was going on -

"Do I have to call security?"

"I'm coming," Chuck snarled at last. "One second."

The same thought had clearly crossed his mind too - Blair had no way of getting out. They exchanged urgent glances. Shit, shit. And then both their eyes alighted on the same thing. The desk.

"No way," Blair's gaze narrowed wildly. "I am not hiding under your desk like some kind of-"

"Charles!"

She scooted under the desk.

Chuck hastily checked that she couldn't be seen (grimacing at the indignity of it all) and then moved to the door, smoothing down his hair and re-tucking his shirt. He unlocked it. Assumed an expression of surprise. "Father!" He smiled."I didn't expect you back so soon."

Bart looked anything but impressed. "Clearly."

"Sorry," Chuck attempted as the man brushed past him and into the room. "I just wanted to, uh, clean the place up a bit." He moved behind the desk to try and block Blair in completely. He could feel her warmth by his legs.

His father raised one brow. A pair of white underwear lay in the middle of the floor. Chuck followed his gaze and choked back a curse. "I can explain." Blair's hair was brushing his knuckles now. He could tell she couldn't stand not knowing what was going on; she was positively itching to peer round and look.

"Charles," Bart sighed. "Don't bring your sluts back to the office."

Chuck quickly slid a hand over Blair's mouth to cover her noise of outrage. "It won't happen again."

"It better not." Bart spared the office one more glance. Chuck still had his hand covering Blair's mouth, her breath hot against his palm. "I was thinking we'd go out to dinner tonight." The old man's brow was furrowed as he said it.

"Dinner?" Chuck echoed in disbelief. Since when did his father want to take him out to dinner? He could feel Blair's surprise too.

"Yes." Bart turned away, curtly. "Eight o'clock."

Chuck watched the man as he walked out of the office. Why the hell was he back so early? And why did he want dinner?

"He's up to something." Blair had re-emerged from the desk. She fingered her curls to try and regain some ounce of dignity as she moved to Chuck's side. But she was frowning at the doorway too, thoughtful.

Chuck pursed his lips. "The question is what."

They glanced at each other. Her mouth was still swollen with his kisses, and there was a trace of her lipstick on his shirt collar. That, and their proximity, brought back the sudden memory of those three little words.

Blair swallowed. "Well, I need to get back to Waldorf Designs. Eleanor might have left, but she's got Laurel reporting my every move." She was already severing the connection as she ran her hands over her dress to smooth it. "I'll see you tonight, after the dinner? Then we can strategise properly."

"Right," Chuck murmured.

She forced a smile. "So, tonight then."

"Blair."

She stilled, halfway to the door. Her eyes were wide and dark as she turned back to him, almost as if -

"You might want these." He was holding her underwear.

She flushed. "Oh. Of course."

"I can always keep them." His smile was crooked as he studied her.

And her mouth twitched back despite herself. "You're disgusting." But the expression on her face was slightly more relaxed now, more genuine. She gazed at him for a moment - he gazed back, almost quizzical. Then she leaned forwards and kissed his cheek. Her lips were butterfly light on his skin. "We'll figure out what he's up to," she promised.

Her stomach was churning as she walked out almost as much as his was, his cheek still tingling from the feel of her mouth.

Blair threw herself into overseeing hemlines and writing up reports for the rest of the afternoon. Anything to stay busy. Distracted. Even the thought of Givenchy, now, just reminded her of what had happened in Chuck's office.

Mid-sex, his body frozen on top of hers, no mention of it afterwards - of course he hadn't meant it. Why had he said it? Why did he have to ruin everything by saying those three stupid words that he didn't even mean? People said anything during sex. Chuck had been the one to teach her that when they'd first started this whole thing. And then Bart had almost caught them -

Risky. Careless. Stupid.

Blair Waldorf was not supposed to be any of those things. Ever.

I love you was a risky, careless, stupid, dangerous lie. Especially when it tripped as easily off the tongue as it had just done for Chuck. (Except Chuck had never told anyone he loved them and she knew that for a fact; so what on earth had just happened?)

She'd learnt her lesson well. She couldn't trust those words. And it had never even occurred to her that she'd hear them from Chuck; she'd thought she was safe. First of all, because when they'd started she'd convinced herself it was just sex. Second, because she knew that those words terrified him almost as much as they nauseated her. And third, because they'd never needed words. She didn't need him to call her beautiful because she could see it in his face - in the way he looked at her. She didn't need him to tell her he wanted her because she could feel it when he touched her. When he kissed her. She didn't need him to tell her he cared about her because when his hand intertwined with hers she already knew. She could read his face, his expressions, his gestures, his voice better than anyone.

(So why had those words thrown her so completely?)

He hadn't meant it and they both needed to forget about it. And be a hell of a lot more careful. They were going to focus instead on finding out what, exactly, Bart had planned. Which involved two of Blair's favourite activities - spying and scheming.

"Blair?" It was Laurel. "Givenchy's secretary just sent some flowers to say thank you. What do you want-"

"I'll take them." Blair had already snatched them, eagerly, from the woman's grasp. "Orchids," she smirked. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Mmm."

Blair ignored Laurel's arched brow to find a vase for the gorgeous bouquet. The thrill had filled her again; nothing was going to bring her down. She'd met Hubert de Givenchy. Nothing - nothing could possibly bring her down.

"Blair."

Except for that voice.

The smile slid off her face as she turned to see Carter Baizen. In her mother's office. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, coldly. She felt somehow like she'd been violated. Carter couldn't be here. He didn't get to just walk into her work - her happiness - whenever he felt like it. (Why couldn't he just leave her alone?) Leaning against the wall in all his arrogance, tieless with that brown hair devilishly raked. Why couldn't he look different, Blair wondered, from three years ago? So that maybe she wasn't left quite so cold every time she had to see him?

The truth was that Carter Baizen wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here either. "I get it." He held up his hands, weary. "You don't want to see me me."

"Then what are you doing here?" she repeated. She didn't want to see him, she didn't want to hear him - she didn't even want a conversation with him. Not again. Not another one.

"We need to talk."

Her lips pinched. "We don't."

"Not about us," he sighed quietly.

When she spoke, it was like ice. "There is no us." He'd made sure of that himself. God, why was he here?

"Blair." He almost caught her arm - stopped himself at the flare of her nostrils. "Please." Carter Baizen never said please. He took what he wanted and he didn't answer to anyone. Didn't beg anyone.

She watched him, and her expression was unreadable. "All right," she said at last. Acidic. "You have one minute."

"I just came from a meeting with my father's lawyers."

"And?"

He gave her a look. "Would you let me finish? It was about the division of his company." She waited. Carter exhaled; he wasn't much looking forward to he reaction. "He left Waldorf Designs ten percent. The lawyers should let you know soon - it was in his will."

Blair stared at him. Ten percent of Edward Baizen's company? "Why would he do that?"

"Honestly?" Carter shrugged, still regarding her. "I have no idea."

There was a pause as Blair considered. She already knew the answer though - already knew exactly what Eleanor would think of all this. "Tell your lawyers we don't want it."

His mouth twisted a little. "I figured you'd say that," he murmured. "But it's not up to me. Look, I swear this decision wasn't anything to do with me. I don't know what the old man was thinking - really." He shook his head. "I know Eleanor's going to...hit the roof."

"Yeah," Blair muttered back. Carter was damn lucky she wasn't here at the moment. She glanced away to dismiss him. "Well, I'd better get ready to tell her." He turned to walk out the door - Blair watched him go. She paused. It lurched out of her, unwilling. "Why did you bother coming to tell me?" And, as he glanced back at her and she folded her arms tight - "If your lawyers were going to anyway."

He raised one shoulder. "Figured you'd want a head's up." His mouth twisted again in something that wasn't quite a smile.

Blair was silent. "Thank you," she managed in the end. But he realised that unlike all other other fake thank yous she'd given him since he'd got back, this time she did sound something that might have bordered on grateful. Still confused - and suspicious - but for once, she seemed like she meant it.

He tore his eyes away from hers - and one more thing struck him as he left. "Oh, on that note? Georgie's back in town."

He saw the expression that flickered across her face before she wiped it away. Blair's hatred for Georgina Sparks, as far as Carter knew, was eternal. And possibly even stronger than her hatred for him at the moment. "I see." Blair's blood had run decidedly cold. Because there was only one reason Georgie could be back. Serena. And there was only one thing Georgie ever caused for Serena.

Trouble.

A/N - So...don't hate me for essentially stealing the show's ILY? Chuck's POV will be coming next chapter. Also: I did bring in Georgina, but I'm afraid she's not going to be a huge character in this fic - more like a trigger for Blair/Serena. Oh, and I'm not going to drag out this whole Bart vs Chuck, Bass Industries storyline (mainly because a) I use it so much in my other fics, and b) it's so dull on the show atm) - I promise it's taking another direction!

Thanks very much for all your wonderful reviews :)