Last time in the Tutorverse: Chuck and Blair came out of the relationship closet to Nate and Serena, and now they're all going to Cotillion together….eventually.
Chapter 11: All's Fair In Love And Blair
Her lips were on his and she was in his arms the second the limo door closed. Chuck pulled Blair onto his lap and let his arms come tightly around her, taking a deep sip of the unique cocktail that was the scent and taste of Blair Waldorf and savoring it in his mouth.
It had been a stressful morning. They had been interviewing contractors to do the renovations on the interior and exterior of Victrola and it was slow going. From bland styling to far-off completion estimates to inferior materials—something was wrong with all of them. Finally, just when their eyes were about to glaze over from reading specs and cost estimates, one contractor came in with a quality plan and materials at a reasonable price in a reasonable time frame. Until Blair read the fine print of the proposal, which detailed huge bonuses for finishing on time and listed materials of a much lower quality on the cost sheet than the supply sheet.
Chuck saw it too, both the misleading quotes and the contractor's sly smile. He clearly thought they were rich kids with money to burn and time to waste. He couldn't have been more wrong. By the time the contractor was lucky enough to make his escape from the club, he'd gotten his business scrutinized, his livelihood threatened and he felt like he'd been flayed alive. He'd been informed he was expected back the following week with a brand-new contract and specs, and they'd better pass muster. Even thinking back on the encounter made him shudder.
It had just the opposite effect on Chuck and Blair, who couldn't wait for some alone time to properly celebrate this latest takedown. To them, it only reaffirmed what they already knew: they were even more powerful together and damn sexy when in takedown mode.
Chuck was nibbling his way down the side of her neck, and she had just freed him of his bow tie and was comfortably straddling his lap, rocking suggestively in a way that left no doubt where she wanted this encounter to lead.
His lips moved up her neck, inch by delicious inch, licking and tasting and planting soft kisses as they trailed over her jaw and the smoothness of her cheek to capture her mouth in a passionate kiss, drawing her lower lip into his mouth.
She moaned into his mouth and the vibration rippled through his tongue, his teeth, his entire person. If he could do only one thing for the rest of his life, he would want it to be kissing Blair Waldorf.
Eventually, one small hand disentangled from his hair and moved down the length of their bodies to find the tab on his zipper. With remarkable focus for one so swept away, she slowly began to pull it downward, causing the top of his fly to part.
It was then that his hand came down, not to join hers, but to gently move her hand away.
She looked at him, equal parts passion and confusion.
His hands moved to her waist and gently maneuvered her back into a sitting position on the seat beside him, taking both her hands in his. The look on his face told her he was about to say something important.
She completely froze. Oh, dear God, no. It was her very worst nightmare coming true. He was going to tell her that while it had been fun, he was ready to move on. Chuck Bass didn't do girlfriends. So thanks for the kisses and the calculus help, but it's over.
She wasn't ready. She furiously ignored the little voice inside her heart that said she would never be ready for it to be over—not today, not tomorrow, not in fifty years. She'd known loving him was a risk, but it was one she'd gladly taken and one that, even now with the terror that he was going to break her heart, she'd take again.
She turned her head away from him, unable to look into the eyes that had shone with sincerity when he'd said he was in love with her not 48 hours ago. What could have happened? They'd just been kissing with abandon. She knew he wanted her. She'd felt it—in her heart and…other places. She tried to force breath into lungs that no longer seemed to want to cooperate and stop the painful stinging in her nose and behind her eyelids.
He reached over and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him once again.
And to her everlasting horror, one crystalline tear slipped from her eyelid and rolled down her cheek.
She ignored it. He could not.
"Blair?!"
"It-it's okay, Chuck," she reassured, "I understand if you want to—"
"Clearly, you don't understand at all." His voice was kind. "I'm just saying that since Cotillion is this weekend, I want to take things slow this week. I want to court you and give you the perfect night you deserve."
"What?!" Blair was looking at him again as if he'd grown two heads. "So you don't want to break up?"
"Break up?! Why would you think that? Blair, in case you didn't hear me the first thousand times I said it the other day, I love you!" He brought her hands to his lips and kissed the back of each of them.
Relief swept through her and a smile lit up her face. "Wonderful, because I love you too!" She tried to go back to kissing him.
"You don't understand. I want you to have the perfect night, so we need to go slow right now."
"Chuck, we've had the perfect night! Several times. From the very first time up to now. In fact, I missed you last night now that Dorota's home. I get cold without you." A trace of pout crept into her voice.
He was undeterred. "Your first time was not supposed to be in a moving vehicle. You're Blair Waldorf. Do you mean to tell me that, somewhere in your mountain of scrapbooks and diaries, this," he gestured around the interior of the limo, "was how you pictured your first time would be?"
"Chuck, nothing about being with you is how I pictured it would be." She paused when she saw the shadow of hurt cross his face. "It's even better! I couldn't imagine it, because I had no idea it even existed. The back of this limo is sacred to me. I wouldn't change a thing."
"I'm glad you feel that way. But I want to do this for you, for us. Please let me?" The pleading look in his dark eyes overwhelmed her.
The Basstard was cheating with that look! She found herself nodding despite herself.
"Okay, but if you have the right to court me this week, then I have the right to try to seduce you. May the more determined party win."
"Courtship vs. seduction? You set the bar high, Waldorf, but not high enough. I'm going to win."
She laughed and scooted closer to him.
"You're a hopeless romantic, Bass….with a dirty mind. And that's what I'm counting on." She leaned over to kiss him.
Their lips lingered on each other's for a few seconds, before he drew back, zipped his fly, put down the partition and instructed Arthur to pull over.
"Where are you going?" she demanded, confused once more.
"No time to waste. I have plans to make. I'm going to make you swoon," he vowed.
It wouldn't take much. She felt weak in the knees already and the butterflies were swarming in her stomach.
"But not before I make you give in," she promised sweetly. He wasn't the only romantic with a dirty mind.
It started the next morning at the break of dawn.
Chuck was still deep in slumber when the overly cheerful pinging of his phone alerted him that he had a text. Who texted at this hour? He fumbled for his phone on the bedside table and groggily pressed the message button.
An image appeared. A close-up showing only a slender, graceful neck and the juncture where it met a shoulder covered with mahogany curls.
He smiled. He knew that neck. He loved that neck. God, he loved that neck.
So the first volley in their battle had been fired.
"Good morning to you too, beautiful," he texted back, before reluctantly prying himself from the bed. It might be early morning on the Upper East Side, but defensive measures and counterattacks must be made when up against such a formidable foe as Blair Waldorf.
Thirty minutes later a bouquet of fluffy white peonies appeared at the Waldorf penthouse.
The card read, "Your skin is like the petals of a peony."
She blushed.
Who would have a florist on call 24/7? Only Chuck Bass.
When the limo arrived to pick her up for school an hour later, she said nothing about the gift, but the Mona Lisa smile on her face and the single bloom tucked under her headband indicated she'd been pleased with his gift. She held his hand all the way to school.
He was halfway through morning classes when the second text appeared.
It was another close-up, this time featuring a dusky pink nipple and the beautiful curve of her bosom. He liked the direction this was going.
School was about to adjourn for the day when she was called down to the office. There, two bouquets of blush pink peonies were waiting for her. "Some of my favorite things are pink," was printed on the attached card. She knew he wasn't talking about his bow tie collection.
When Arthur picked her up after the final bell, he showed no surprise that her arms were full of blooms, but he was most apologetic that Mr. Bass had a prior commitment and wouldn't be joining them on the way home.
Damn! How was she supposed to seduce the man if he didn't even have the decency to show up at his own seduction? She leaned back against the supple leather seats and brought one of the bouquets to her nose, breathing in its fragrant aroma. A smile crossed her face. It was time to escalate the fight!
Chuck was congratulating himself on his brilliant escape from temptation when a third text alert sounded.
With equal parts curiosity and trepidation, he pushed the message button.
And his mouth went dry.
She'd used a mirror to help get this selfie. It showcased the ends of her dark curls, the contour of her back, that spot at the base of her spine he loved so much, the shapely curve of that perfectly rounded derriere and the silky skin at the top of her thighs.
He closed the message and hit the call button, though whether to call the florist or to call Arthur to bring the car around…well, even he wasn't sure.
This time it was three bunches of peonies in a lovely shade of peach coral. "What is more alluring than a ripe, succulent peach?"
She tucked the note into her jewelry box, along with the others from earlier in the day. She might not want to admit it, but there was no helping being swept away just a bit by the romantic gesture and the sweet, sexy notes.
She sighed. It was time to bring out the big guns.
The next text was different, on many levels. First, it was a full-length silhouette. And secondly, it was taken in the dark. In the low light, he could see only the outline of her curves. He couldn't see her features, but he was sure he was giving him an enticing smile. Lastly, this picture was accompanied by a written message: "I'm wearing only my ring and some Chanel No.5….and I miss you. Come join me?"
Chuck now understood all too well how the sailors were lured to their deaths on the rocks by the song of the sultry sirens.
He was supposed to show her how to seduce her man; now the student had become the master.
When the bell rang, she threw the door open excitedly, sure that now he was giving in and she had won. Instead, a cart was wheeled in with four bouquets of bright red peonies.
Her face fell, but she reached for the card with great enthusiasm anyway. "My love is like a red, red rose…(the flower's name was crossed out here and replaced with "peony.") "I can't wait to be back in your garden. Missing you. Loving you…"
She was distracted by the wheezing sounds in the background…
This time his phone rang.
"Bass, please stop!" Blair didn't even bother with a greeting. In fact, she sounded very agitated.
"Stop?" he drawled, "Surely you know I could go all night."
Oh, God, not the voice, not the voice!
"I can't take any more, and Dorota's having an asthma attack from all the flowers! There are ten bouquets here now, you know."
"I would hope so, since that's what I ordered. But I am sorry about Dorota. Am I on her bad list now?" He sounded genuinely concerned.
"Not really, but you are on mine!"
"Well, that's a flower of a different color, now, isn't it?"
"Can we just call a truce?"
"Giving up so soon, Waldorf? I'm disappointed."
Just declaring a cease-fire, er, cease-flower. Just for tonight."
"I suppose I might be inclined to do that…for Dorota's sake."
"Don't sound so smug, Bass. Tomorrow is a new day…and I have not yet begun to fight!"
He looked forward to the next battle.
When he stopped to pick her up for school the next morning, he thought he had mentally girded his loins to withstand her charms.
Would she be wearing a trench coat and nothing under it?
Would she slip off one of her heels and tease his leg with a silk-encased toe?
Would she find that sensitive spot on his neck and nibble it relentlessly until he was ready to give in?
No matter, he was ready to resist any and all wiles she chose to employ.
Except…
She didn't employ any of them!
She was fully dressed, down to the red peony tucked under her headband.
She wore sensible but chic Chanel flats and kept her feet firmly on the limo floor.
She held his hand and chatted about assignment deadlines and the intricacies of Cotillion dances.
And when she got out of the car at school, she simply squeezed his hand and gave him a light brush of her lips on his cheeks.
He gave her the suspicious side-eye as they parted.
He told himself that she must be saving up her strategies; after all, the day was still young.
Yet the morning, lunch period, and afternoon classes all passed without a text, a pic, or even a bend-n-snap.
Not even a wink.
Was her new strategy playing hard to get? Where had his naughty vixen gone? He kept waiting for her to show herself.
On the drive home, he gave her a volume of love poems, exquisitely wrapped and with his favorites—the ones that reminded him of her—specially marked. Silk ribbons had been slipped between pages that contained the best of Lord Byron, Emily Dickinson and Pablo Neruda. He had taken the time to underline the first line of each of his favorites.
She seemed very pleased with his gift. She thanked him effusively and actually gave him a kiss on the lips this time. Then her face fell as she seemed to remember that she had statistics homework that must be done. She'd call him later, she was quick to reassure.
Later lasted about ten minutes. He had not yet gotten back to the Palace when his phone rang.
But she had not called to chat. She needed homework help. He sighed, remembering a time when his other tutoring skills were more in demand. He told himself he shouldn't feel disappointed, that this actually worked in his favor. Right now, being away from her was exactly what was required. But…he missed knowing that she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her—and that was a considerable amount. They were equally matched in wits and desire; it was part of the chemistry and magic between them. Denying that part of their relationship was quickly becoming an exhausting task.
The car pulled up to the Palace doors, but Chuck was trying to explain why the problem required a certain formula. Blair still wasn't getting it. Finally, she simply sighed and asked if he could come back over and explain it in person; she was sure she'd understand it better that way.
He resigned himself to a whole evening devoted to formulas and story problems as he told Arthur to turn the car around.
When he exited the elevator at the penthouse, he could see a sliver of light under Blair's bedroom door above and hear the strains of some New Age music that was heavy on the strings.
"Blair?" he called.
"Up here!" she chirped, sounding remarkably cheerful for someone who'd been cursing mathematics a few short minutes ago.
He paused for a second outside her door, as if sensing something to put him on alert.
He turned the doorknob.
The Lady…or the Tiger?
It was both.
There, standing next to a tray of various kinds of sushi and an elaborate tea service, was Blair as he'd never before seen her.
An exotic geisha.
Her lustrous hair was piled high in a smooth chignon and accented with one of the bright red peonies he'd sent her the night before. Pale white powder adorned her delicate features with kohl highlighting the mystery of her dark eyes and rich crimson rouge playing up her pout.
This was not how she'd looked when she left him! He continued to stare.
She wore a long gown of deepest purple silk that was covered with a kimono of red silk brocade printed with gold cherry blossoms and trimmed in satin. The kimono was cinched with a royal purple obi sash and tied with a gold string. Tiny wooden sandals completed the ensemble. She sent him a flirtatious smile over her red lace fan.
"Welcome, Bass-san. Please sit down and allow me to serve you."
The neckline of the kimono plunged low. Was she wearing anything under there? He was so preoccupied pondering the question that he didn't argue, simply staggered into the chair she provided and let her pull up a small table.
She moved the tray of sushi to the table, as well as the teapot and a delicate china cup with no handle. She knelt at his feet and made a great show of pouring a small amount of dark liquid into his cup.
He took a generous sip and almost choked, for it wasn't tea in the cup, but the finest of well-aged scotch. His favorite. She knew him well. Was there no end to her surprises?
"How old is this scotch?"
"It's from the same era as my costume. Not the same continent, of course." She smiled again and proffered the tray of sushi.
He took a sampling and sat back to enjoy.
She noted his contentment but couldn't resist asking, "Have I pleased you tonight?"
"When have you ever not pleased me?" The timbre of his voice sent a ripple of pleasure through her.
"You know, historically the geisha were arbiters of culture. Their task was to entertain gentlemen with art, such as singing or music or dancing." She stood up and moved the table away from him. "May I dance for you now? I love to dance for you. To dance with you…on a ballroom floor….or…," her voice dropped to a sultry whisper, "in the sheets."
He swallowed hard. Last night he was so sure he had the upper hand. Now, at this moment, he was completely unsure of everything. It was courtship vs. seduction, but tonight seduction was clearly playing to win and possibly cheating to do so.
When her hands went behind the kimono to loosen her obi, he rose and grabbed her fingertips and pulled her toward to him, crushing her lips to his. She made a little happy noise and settled into his arms with slow, deep kisses.
He sat back down in the comfy chair with Blair still in his arms, and kissed her as if he were never going to stop.
She forgot that she was consumed with seducing him and he forgot that he was determined to resist and they lost themselves in each other.
Until, from far away, a buzzing came to their ears.
Chuck's phone.
"I have to get that," he said regretfully, "It might be my father about Victrola."
She sighed and got up.
Chuck fumbled in his pocket for his phone and then checked the caller ID.
"Nathaniel?" Pause. "I see." Pause. "I'll be right there."
"Blair, I have to go. Nathaniel is a having a Cotillion fashion emergency at the tailor's. And we both know he can barely knot his uniform tie. Forgive me?"
"I suppose if one were having a male crisis of the sartorial nature, you are the only one to call." She straightened his tie and smoothed his lapel.
"See you tomorrow?" He gave her a quick kiss as he prepared to leave. "Blair, were you ever really having stats trouble tonight?"
She snorted. "Of course not! Those 'problems' I asked you about are from Advanced Stats. I won't even be taking that course until next year. I have a near perfect score in my current class, thanks to your help."
"Until tomorrow then…" And he was gone.
It was just after midnight when Chuck finally stumbled into his suite, suited up in his pajama best and slipped under the covers. Nathaniel was finally on target with his fashion. It had taken some convincing on Chuck's part that it was acceptable, even preferable, that his choices complement rather than match Serena's. Not that they had much information on Serena's gown. "Um, it's gold, I think" was all Nate knew. Not exactly helpful for coordinating the clothes and corsage.
Chuck snorted. He'd seen Blair's dress days ago (he'd made it his mission to do so, with a little help from Dorota) and his clothing and her flowers were already chosen and ordered. This was not just Blair's debut in society, it was their coming out party as a couple. Chuck wanted everything to go perfectly and he was fairly certainly that his plans would make that happen, but he couldn't help being a little nervous. He'd never wanted anything or anyone so much before. And she had chosen him, chosen them.
He mentally ticked the list of preparations completed and still to be done for Cotillion night. He was just drifting off when his phone rang.
Blair.
"It's after midnight, so it's tomorrow already," she reminded him. "Did you get Nate all squared away?"
"I did. He will be fashionably clothed and coordinate with Serena."
"As long as they don't outshine us."
"As if that were even possible!" Chuck scoffed.
"I've been doing some reading tonight."
"Anything in particular?"
"Loving is a clash of lightning-bolts and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey."
"Ah, Pablo Neruda. 'Full Woman, Fleshly Apple, Hot Moon'."
"My body's missing your body." She somehow managed to make that sound like the poetry she had just quoted and his body tightened in response.
"As is mine. I'm still dying to know what's under that silky kimono."
She let out a breathless little gasp.
"Chuck, if you were here…tell me what we'd do…." The longing in her voice went straight through his whole body.
"'Wild nights, wild nights, were I with thee. Wild nights should be our luxury…,' he quoted Dickinson. "Are you missing our wild nights?"
Every single part of her was attuned to his whispered words. How was it possible to have such a physical reaction to the human voice?
"I'm so wet," she confided in a whisper.
"God, Blair, I wish I were there right now, rowing in your Eden."
"'Ah, the sea!'" Her voice dissolved into a moan of pleasure.
He lay there, listening. Every pant, every sigh, every little sound she made just turned him on more, until suddenly they were both coming, together, even though they were several miles apart.
"You know," she said breathlessly, "there is talk that Emily Dickinson didn't actually write "Wild Nights."
"Why?" He was puzzled.
"Because it's so charged, so sexy, so unlike much of her other material. They just couldn't believe that someone who wrote about hope being a thing with feathers could also write something with sexy ocean metaphors."
"I can believe it. A cool exterior and fire below. My kind of girl." She could hear the smile in his voice.
"Chuck, I don't want to say good-night."
"Then don't. I'll just lie here and listen to you breathe and wish I could wrap my arms around you."
She sighed and was silent for a moment.
"Chuck, who won tonight? Courtship or seduction?"
"Does there have to be a winner?"
"Of course!"
"Well, then I'd say it's Emily Dickinson, who clearly had a very rich inner life that she celebrated in both word and deed. Passion wins!"
Blair stifled a yawn. "I can live with that."
They both slept well that night.
It was absolute heaven and absolute hell.
When he'd rushed to the last afterschool dance practice before Cotillion, he hadn't expected to find the place deserted and the lights out.
Then a solitary chandelier came on….and there she was. With a wicked grin on her face and his signature scarf wrapped around her neck.
"Where did you get that?"
"It found me in the limo the other day." She didn't sound repentant in the slightest.
"Looks good on you." Chuck couldn't hide the answering grin on his own face. "Do I have the time and day wrong?"
Blair shook her head. "Nope. I just thought we might benefit from one last private dance before our big night."
"Well, by all means," he took her arm and led her to the center of the floor. "Is there music?"
She disengaged from his arms, removed her phone from her skirt pocket and fiddled with it until a song began playing.
"I'm impressed."
"Bass?" she inquired sweetly.
"Hmm?" He was already lost in the sensation of whirling around with her in his arms.
"Shut up and dance with me!"
And so they danced. Fast songs and slow, until the slow realization crept up on him that they were no longer regulation length apart. Her body was flush was his in all the right (wrong?) places and her lips were temptingly close to his.
And then, like a bolt of lightning, she kissed him and the shock ran through his whole being. There was no hesitation or question; suddenly they were kissing passionately, making out on a deserted dance floor, oblivious to music, dance steps or anything else in the world.
"Damn it, stop it!" How had he lost control again?
"I didn't do anything." She gave him her best doe eyes.
"Yes, you did—you kissed me!"
"Well, you kissed me back!"
"What was I supposed to do? I could never not kiss you back. But I swore I was going to make your Cotillion night special, and that's what I'm going to do, no matter how much you are fighting me." He took a step away from her. "Take the limo; I'll walk home."
And he walked away, leaving her standing alone in the dimly lit space.
He took the long way, walking for over an hour before arriving back at his suite. And still he needed a cold shower.
He stepped into the shower stall, turned on the massage jets and adjusted the temperature before he began stripping down.
God, this was the longest week ever. Would Cotillion never get here? The wait was killing him. Resisting Blair was killing him. Even he was beginning to question his own sanity. He took a deep breath. He could do this. Nate had managed to not touch Blair for years. How on earth had he done that?! Now he was questioning his best friend's sanity.
Chuck finished shedding the last of his clothing and stepped into the rushing water, letting the coolness cascade over him. It felt calming to his body, but did nothing to stop his thoughts from racing right back to where they always went—Blair.
In fact, it didn't even seem like the water was very cool anymore. It felt like it was getting warmer all the time and the air steamier….
And then the shower stall door slammed.
And he was pushed back against the tile and kissed mercilessly. Suddenly his arms were full of warm, wet, wonderful Blair, who kept whispering, "Please, Chuck, please?"
To be fair, he tried to summon up resistance, temper, anything….but he failed completely. If wanting Blair was wrong, he didn't care to be right.
Besides, how could Chuck Bass disappoint a lady? Especially the lady he loved?
So he let have her way with him, from shampooing his hair to tangling her fingers in his chest hair and pulling his close to kissing her way down his chest, his abdomen, his hip bones. Finally, she sank onto her knees and drew the hard length of him into her mouth.
A sound came out of his mouth that was part sigh, part groan, part roar and complete surrender.
Her mouth seemed impossibly warm, almost scorching him, with her velvety tongue tracing its way up and down and her lips surrounding him.
It was the most exquisite torture.
His eyes wanted so much to squeeze shut in pleasure, but he forced them open a slit so that he could watch her there, loving him as the water ran in rivulets all over her body and his fingers tangled in the long, dark tendrils of her hair.
Sometimes when he was watching her like this, he was overcome by her perfection, by how she loved him, by how much he loved her, and he wondered what he had ever done to deserve something so amazing. A brief but paralyzing thought went through him that if the universe could give him this, then it could also figure out he was unworthy and take it away again. Then how would he survive?
Somehow she always knew when these dark thoughts came, because she'd look at him and smile, and nothing could be wrong with the world when that happened.
Then she was back to kissing, licking, sucking him until he could hold out no longer and lost himself in that wonderful, wicked mouth.
They paused for a second, catching their breath, before he pulled her against him, lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bed.
She squealed when he lightly threw her onto the bed and covered her body with his own. They were soaking wet, but neither cared.
Beginning at her ankles, he kissed his way up her calves, her outer thighs, the delicate skin on the inside of those silky thighs, until he reached the sweet spot at her core.
She was so ready. There was far more than a drop of honey waiting for him here.
He mumbled something about "diamonds at the juncture of her thighs."
She was startled for a second. "Maya Angelou?"
"You are indeed a Phenomenal Woman." He returned to the task at hand, worshipping her with his tongue until it was her turn to hold him tighter, pull him closer and scream out in bliss.
They lay there, panting, his head resting on her thigh.
"You cheated. You ambushed me in the shower." His voice was unsteady.
"I'm not sorry." At least she sounded happy.
"I'm not either, to be honest. I just want you to know that, amazing as this is, there is more to us than just the physical." He looked up at her. "I love you, Blair."
She kissed his forehead. "I love you…and your heart and your dirty mind, though I refuse to be sorry for wanting to play with the package it comes in."
"There's roughly 48 hours until Cotillion. Do I need to hire a bodyguard?"
"Maybe," she teased and burst into giggles when he began tickling her all over.
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Bass?" The formerly sly-looking contractor looked nothing less than professional and respectable as he stood in the office of the CEO of Bass Industries.
"I want to hear how your meeting with my son and Miss Waldorf went." Bart gave him his best shark face expression.
"Mr. Bass, how old is your son?"
"Sixteen. May I ask why?"
"And the young lady?"
"Just turned seventeen, I believe."
"Because they might be teenagers in age, but they are more intimidating than most people I've dealt with twice their age."
Bart hid a smile.
"They caught the discrepancies I had you plant in the contract?"
"Oh, yes, at almost the same time, and they wasted no time in telling me how it was going to be from now on."
"I expected them to take the contract to a lawyer or the legal department here."
"I'm sure they will, in time. But those two are very sharp. I pity anyone who'd really try to cheat them."
"Thank you for your assistance with this matter. We'll be cutting and mailing you a bonus check soon."
The man made his departure and Bart returned to the report he'd been reading before the interruption.
It was a jewelry store receipt…for a diamond necklace. The smile he'd held back earlier now swept across his face.
Well, that answered his question: his son was definitely escorting Miss Waldorf to Cotillion.
And Bart couldn't wait to see the pictures!
To Be Continued in Chapter 12
Author's Note:
Forgive me, readers, for I have been delayed. It's been over a month since my last update. Please accept my sincere apologies. Bonus: This did turn out to be a longer chapter!
Remember how this was supposed to be the final chapter? Well, guess what? It didn't quite work out that way, so stay tuned for the next installment.
Special thanks to ChuckBlair08lover, who mentioned in an earlier review that Chuck and Blair are "hopeless romantics with dirty minds." I just had to take that and run with it.
Thanks also to Chrys1130, who helps me logically get from point A to point B when all CB want to do is skip straight to the shower scene! She also made me a lovely piece of art to go with the Cotillion chapter. I will be sharing that soon.
And now "Conversations With Chuck Bass":
Me: Chuck, I think you did an admirable job in trying to resist Blair. I agree with you; I think she was cheating. I think it was sweet that you let her win.
Chuck: Hold up there, I didn't 'let her win.' We both won. Passion won. Emily Dickinson won.
Me: Speaking of, there are lots of poetry references in this chapter.
Chuck: And they say you don't care about culture!
Me: *blushes*
Me: So, Chuck, have you seen the trailer for the new show called Wicked City? People are saying that the actor, Ed Westwick, kind of sounds like you.
Chuck: *scoffs* Please, no one sounds like me; I'm Chuck Bass.
Me: Have you seen his hair? It's divine. It's like the second coming of James Dean. But I digress….
Pop Quiz: Reviews make this author happier than a) Blair with a new bouquet of peonies, b) Chuck with a new bow tie, c) Bart with new secret intel, or d) all of the above. Review and find out!
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Until next time!