Almost a week had gone by since Sansa had moved in with him and Petyr couldn't have been happier, well, he could have been if he'd been in the penthouse with his girl rather than his club office watching the news. Catelyn and Ned covered the screen begging for any information on their missing daughter, Police wouldn't think she'd been abducted though, Sansa had packed all of her things and left of her own free will that much was obvious. His girl had been smart enough to leave her phone as well, it meant she couldn't be traced and that his was the only phone she had access to, a phone she had to ask to use. He couldn't let her go, she was his little girl, cared for, wanted and loved more than she'd ever been at the Stark home.

When a knock came at his office door, a gentle rapping that could have only been Olyvar, Petyr switched off the television and threw the remote over to the couch.

"Yes?"

Sure enough the beautiful blonde known as Olyvar, or Oly to his friends, appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, Ros said to bring you this." Oly gestured to the glass of bourbon in his hand as he crossed the room and set it down before his boss.

Petyr took a sip letting the alcohol burn pleasantly down his throat; Oly watched his Adam's apple bob happily.

"To what do I owe this to?" Littlefinger asked before taking another sip.

"Lysa Arryn is here." Said the blonde with a look of pity and Petyr sighed then downed the lot.

"Why did you even let her in, Olyvar? It's ten-thirty in the goddamn morning, we're shut."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger." Oly held his hands up. "She slipped in when Azah arrived to do inventory, Mads isn't on the door until tonight otherwise she'd be halfway home by now." Oly saw Petyr's body tense under his shirt.

"Fuck. What does she want?"

"You, of course." The blonde laughed.

"One day I'm going to push that bitch off a bridge." Petyr mumbled to himself almost absent-mindedly but Olyvar heard it and snorted.

"When you do, sell tickets. We'd make a fortune."

"Hmm. Just get rid of her." He commanded.

"Tried, she won't budge. I quote 'I'm not leaving until I see my Petyr!'"

Littlefinger let out another sigh and leaned back in his black chair, eyes stared at the ceiling for a moment before flashing back to Oly as he pulled his wallet from his breast pocket.

"Here." He handed Olyvar a crisp twenty. "Go to the diner across the street and get the biggest slice of lemon cake you can find." He'd promised his sweet Sansa a treat that morning when she'd complained about him going to work so early.

"Erm, okay. Never took you for a cake fan, Boss, but alright."

With a dismissing glance from Petyr he was gone. Baelish looked over to his small wet bar and the bottle of bourbon that sat in one corner, if Lysa was downstairs he didn't know whether to drink it or smash himself over the head with in. In the end Petyr just stood, straightened his suit and headed downstairs. The building his club occupied was five floors and a basement, ground level was the main body of The Mockingbird while the second floor held the rooms his whores worked out off, third floor was his office and two smaller ones for Olyvar and Ros who acted as his co-second in commands. Staff lockers were on that floor too. The fourth floor was storage that no one ever really went in unless a holiday had reared it's ugly head. The fifth floor was his penthouse and the home of his darling Sansa. The penthouse was where he'd have much rather been instead of walking up to Lysa who stood dead centre of his club.

Azah, a stunning girl with mocha skin and dark eyes, was wiping down the black bar top while Ros sat on one of the black and purple stools going over music for the night. A few of his cleaning staff were dotted about as well but they all seemed to be giving Lysa Arryn a wide birth and Petyr couldn't fault them.

Steel blue eyes fell on Lysa, her faded red hair held in messy place by far too much hairspray and the women wore a dress that would have looked ugly even on a woman half her age, it was too tight, too small and a hideous pink.

"Lysa." Said Baelish in an emotionless tone as he approached the woman.

"Petyr darling!" She beamed, latched onto him and pressed her overly glossed lips to his, he cringed and Petyr was pretty sure Ros and Azah had as well.

There goes the taste of Sansa, said his mind with a mournful sigh.

"Why are you here, Lysa?" That time of the morning she should have been fawning over that son of hers.

"My niece has gone missing, you must have heard. I'm so worried." She announced while cuddling into his chest, her perfume assaulting his nose.

I highly doubt that, thought Petyr, you couldn't care less you pathetic excuse for a woman. Despite his thoughts Littlefinger played along.

"What a tragedy-"

"I knew you'd understand." She cut him off. "You always do."

"Maybe you should be with Cat?" He suggested as he pushed her away to look at her.

"She has that husband!" Lysa hated when Petyr mentioned her sister, always had and always would. "All those other children too."

She made it sound as though Sansa were easily replaceable, that was far from the truth, no amount of children could replace his girl. Sansa was special and utterly perfect!

"You must be really worried about Sansa."

"Hmm? Oh, yes, very much." She grinned. "Cuddle me better?"

I'd rather have my throat slit. "I would love to but I have a meeting." He lied effortlessly. "I was just about to leave when you arrived, I'll talk to you and Cat later." No he wouldn't.

"Tell them something came up." She purred in a frightfully unattractive way. "Give me a few minutes and something will be up." She chuckled and Petyr was suddenly glad there was nothing in his stomach to bring up. He sensed Azah and Ros cringe again.

"It's not the sort of meeting I can miss, Lysa." He reasoned. "You know I'd rather be with you."

"You're such a hard worker, Petyr." She kissed him again, nothing like his darling Sansa did. "Jon doesn't even compare to you." Littlefinger just smiled and pretend he gave a shit about anything she said. "I still need something to calm my nerves though, my poor niece."

Petyr understood and grinned knowingly, finally they'd gotten to the real reason she was there.

"Azah, help Lysa would you?" Though phrased as a question it clearly wasn't and the mocha skinned twenty-six year old nodded. "I'll be getting my things for my meeting." Which translated to I'll be hiding in my office, although Petyr would have preferred the word retreating instead of hiding.

Baelish marched off back to his office quickly after that, thinking only of brushing his teeth and licking at Sansa's folds to get rid of the taste of Lysa Arryn.

Petyr slumped back into his office chair and looked over at the cameras to see Azah leading the older woman off to a blind spot, they stayed there for a moment as drugs were handed over and then thankfully Lysa left. Baelish let his head fall against the mahogany of his desk where it stayed even after Oly knocked and entered with a small plastic tray of lemon cake in his hand.

"Your cake, My Lord." Oly grinned smugly. "How bad was she?" Petyr just let out a disgruntled sound. "That bad, huh. You want more bourbon?"

Finally Petyr straightened up and went back to looking like the powerful man he was.

"No. I want a shower."

"I could always join you." Grinned Oly as his boss stood up, eyes raking over the older man.

"No, and stop trying to get me to fuck you."

Oly continued to grin seductively. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

"I can and I have." He rounded his desk and took the plastic tray from Oly. "Oh, Tyrion will be here tonight so keep him occupied."

"Oh I think Ros can certainly handle that, Boss."

"Good, I'll be in the penthouse."

With that he backed Olyvar out of his office, locked the door and headed for the large silver elevator.

XXXX

Catelyn sat in the living room of the Stark house, her head in her hands as she cried, Ned holding her as close as he could, it didn't really comfort her though. Meanwhile Arya and Bran were in the breakfast table in the kitchen trying to tone out their mother's crying and prayers.

"I can't believe Sansa actually ran away." Said the wheelchair bound boy with dark hair.

"I know." Answered his sister. "I didn't think she'd actually have the guts... it did get us out of camp though."

"Arya, Sansa is missing and you're making jokes."

"Sorry, Bran. It's just... Sansa will come back." She said with certainty. "I mean where would she go? She has to come back."

"I don't know, its been almost a week."

The two oldest Stark, Robb and Jon, chose that moment to walk through the kitchen door, slipping off their coats as they did.

"Bran might be right." Said Robb reluctantly, a hand running through his red-brown hair. "Sansa can be determined when she wants to be.

"Yeah." Jon agreed. "Our sister is braver and smarter that we often give her credit for."

Because of how quiet Sansa tended to be, they all overlooked their sister. Arya was always getting into trouble, Bran needed more help than the others and Rickon was so young, Sansa bled into the background; it wasn't fair but that was what had happened.

"I know I tease her but I never thought she'd run away." Said Arya with a sigh.

"This isn't your fault, Arya." Jon was quick to say.

"And none of us saw this coming." Added Robb. "We'll find our sister, promise."