A/N: FINALLY! Here is chapter 13! We apologize for the looooooong wait. However, we're getting close to the end of the first leg of the story, and in a few chapters, it will be over. But don't worry, we have a sequel already written! Please enjoy, and of course, REVIEW!

The next morning, Blair Waldorf awoke with a strange feeling in her gut. It was one that she'd experienced exactly twenty times before—the feeling that something would go wrong. However, all it took was the sudden awareness of the arm coiled snugly around her waist to diminish the feeling, and instead simply enjoy the soft sunlight that began seeping through her slightly drawn curtains. Instead of turning and waking Chuck up (at least she'd assumed he was still sleeping), she relished in the moment—until it was ruined by the buzzing of her cell phone on the table next to her. Aside from a few recent blasts from Gossip Girl (which she happily ignored), there were a few text messages from friends and enemies alike. Some were of the generic birthday wishes that she always received, but one in particular caught her attention. She didn't recognize the number, but the message seemed different from all the others. It read;

Happy birthday, Blair. I suggest you thank your boyfriend, for he bought you something that no one else could have…your

Blair's brow furrowed after she read the message. It was cut short, like they'd forgotten to finish whatever it was they were saying. However, she chose not to dwell on it, though suspicious, she had other ways of finding out whatever it was the cryptic message was talking about. For all she knew, it was from Humphrey (she refused to keep his number in her phone). After a few moments, Blair set her phone back down and turned on her side to face Chuck, eyes shut, a look of pure innocence gracing the features of the oh-so-devilish Basstard himself. She smiled, a real genuine smile, and captured those pouting lips in a soft kiss.

"Wake up, Bass."

Chuck tightened his hold on Blair when her sleep-lined voice whispered and chirped her greeting. He rolled onto his back and dragged her with him, combing his fingers through her hair to keep it out of her face. He pulled her in for a kiss that was slightly deeper, and slightly longer than the one she'd given him, contentment buzzing through his body.

"Morning, sunshine," he murmured, voice deep and heavy. "I hope you aren't making plans to try to leave me this morning," he started. "I'm afraid I'll just have to cancel them for you if you are," he smirked pompously at that.

"My only plan today, is you," she smirked, laying a quick kiss on his lips before sitting up slightly, eyes raking over him, "But you…" she continued, fingers gently threading through his chest hair, "Are hosting the black and white ball tomorrow night…at least that's what I've heard through the grapevine. Won't you be needed to help make the preparations?" Her voice left no room for questioning, though her eyes and lips told another lie. "Shouldn't you be…" she leaned down and pressed a kiss into his chest, "Double-checking the guest list." Her lips continued their path a little further down, then ventured back up, to the column of his neck, and the sharp angle of his jaw. "Or will K.C. be handling all the technical stuff?" Her doe eyes flickered up to his, mirroring innocence.

Now that Blair mentioned it (in her backhanded way, of course), he could use her help. Once upon a time, he'd wanted her at arms length and more when planning parties. He wanted to do it all on his own, he wanted to prove something. But throughout the tumultuous year they'd been through, he'd relearned what he'd known all along - they were better together. They were a team. They had their weaknesses, and they had their strengths, and while Chuck could throw a party, Blair could throw a party that would attract all the right kinds of people and that would be appropriate for the type of message he wanted to send.

His hand dipped lower and his palm cupped her ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"If you want something, you should ask," he said, pulling her to him for a quick kiss. "A Waldorf without a party to plan is like a fish without water, though," he said. "I wouldn't want you to get thirsty," he murmured, giving his consent. "On the condition that you're there with me, tomorrow night," he said, eyes boring into her.

Blair grinned down at Chuck, approval flashing across her features. "You're right," she nodded, "I hadn't even thought of that, but of course if you need any help…" her grin turned into a smirk, "How do you feel about a change in theme?" Her hands continued their wandering, drawing patterns on his chest and arms, almost as if they were meant for a distraction from her words. "The black and white theme is decent…" her voice trailed off for a moment, her eyes flickering to his momentarily, "But saints and sinners is much more decadent. It will be a masquerade, where inhibitions can't help but break free."

Saints and sinners…. It was lavish, edgy, but classy at the same time. It wasn't starched-shirt-boring, but it wasn't scandalous in the way that Victrola was. Try as he might, he'd been unable to find a perfect balance, having only been accustomed to two types of parties in his short life - somehow, he didn't think the Hotel Association would appreciate him having to walk out of his own black and white ball to find something to make it all a little more enjoyable for him. But this…..

"There's something alluring about an angel drawn to the dark side," his eyes were trained on her as he agreed, thoughtfully, in his deep voice as his own fingers dipped below the curve of her ass to graze over her thighs.

"Or a devil redeemed," Blair immediately shot back.

Chuck's wandering fingers curled quickly, however, at her next sentence, digging in with blunt nails against her thigh as if it were a warning.

"And as for going with you," she shrugged, "Sorry, I already have a date." She sighed dreamily and looked up as if she was imagining his face, "He's handsome, rich, owns a hotel…I think you might know him."

The look in his eyes lightened considerably and he was mollified almost instantly. "Correction," he said smoothly, waking his muscles and rolling her promptly onto her back, one of his knees resting just between hers. "He has two hotels," his murmur was low as he leaned in found her neck, the creamy skin spanning it simply too tempting for him. "And he doesn't like being taken for a ride." He nipped her neck after his whisper before pausing and smirking. "That's not entirely true, I suppose," he mused before continuing his assault, lazily.

It wasn't good, he realized, how much she influenced him. How easily she could bend him to her desires, get him to give in to her every whim. He thought he was a strong-willed person, but with her he was almost docile, and thoroughly attentive, and he liked it. It was a level of bliss he had never experienced, and he swore he would do everything he could to keep it. He could not lose her… not again. He would make sure of it. He cursed the situation, not for the first time, that forced Andrew Tyler to be a necessary part of his daily routine until this was wrapped up.

"There is… one phone call I need to make today," he confessed grudgingly against her neck. "I wouldn't do it if it weren't absolutely important. It can be done in the time it takes me to retrieve breakfast, if you wish," he said softly.

Immediately her lips turned up into a pout, and she gently tugged him away from her neck, "I suppose I could use some fresh croissants and fruit. Of course I'll have to shower alone, but…you really need to make that phone call. I understand."

"You drive a hard bargain, Waldorf," he said, kissing her soundly while his one hand grazed up and down her thigh with a featherlight touch. "But," he said, regret splashed onto his face and seeping into every syllable, "This call is very important." He kissed her again. "I wouldn't be making it if it weren't. However," he kissed her cheek, jaw, neck, "Why don't you get started. I'll instruct Dorota on breakfast while I make my call, and then," he kissed her once, "I am," kiss, "All," another one, "Yours."

"Fine," she sighed, gently nudging him to get off her, "Go make your business call, but may I remind you, Bass…" she slipped out of the bed and threw on her robe which had been draped across a nearby chair, "Every minute you spend away from me today without my approval is just another hour you'll have to spend showing me how much you love me." She smiled wryly and tied the sash on her robe.

"I will happily serve any amount of time you see fit until my debt's repaid," he said smoothly, an intense note of sincerity hidden under the suggestiveness and thrill in his voice. He accepted a kiss from her readily and watched her retreat, before rolling and swinging his legs out of bed. He was running double-time, determined to make it back to her as quickly as possible. He found his dress pants from the night before and pulled them on with his boxers (he made a note to call Arthur and get another pair of fresh clothes sent over from the Empire) before grabbing the crimson shirt he'd had on the night before and pulling it over his shoulders (he liked Dorota well enough, but they weren't that close). Too impatient to do anything else with himself he stalked out of the room, pulling out his phone from his pants pocket.

"Arthur, instruct the maid service to select a change of clothes for me and bring them over to the Waldorf penthouse as soon as possible. Thank you." The call ended as he strode into the kitchen and greeted Dorota who eyed him with a mixture of affection and disapproval.

"Morning, Dorota. We'll be needing a tray for breakfast. Fruit, croissants," he listed them first, knowing they were Blair's preference. "Coffee, too," he added after a moment. "I'll be in the living room to bring it upstairs when it's ready." As she began to get the breakfast ready he crept out of the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder and around to be sure no one would be around. He wanted to be able to talk freely. Pressing a number on speed-dial, he waited with slight impatience. "Tyler, what's the latest?"

"He hasn't done anything spectacular yet, but he's starting to get sloppy. Namedropping some people, probably the ones who got him to go after the lady. Whoever they are, they have sway, or at least they did before they needed this money."

Frustration sizzled under his skin - this was all? Some guy who couldn't keep his mouth shut? He'd hoped for a bit more progress, but he was unsure of how to get it. Hiring P.I.s, having private armies tail people around, that was what he knew how to do. But if it wasn't enough…. A sinking feeling filled his stomach as the possibility of telling Blair crossed his mind. On the one hand, she was ferocious and he loved her for it - she'd either spot a flaw and come up with a better plan, or she'd assure him that it was fine and to just wait. On the other, he wasn't sure what she'd say - to the fact that her accident was on purpose, to the fact that he'd kept this from her… panic seized him at the idea of the punishment he might face for keeping something this serious from her for any amount of time.

"You're absolutely positive there was no one left here to follow either of us?" he stressed.

"Positive."

He sighed heavily before nodding as Dorota came in the room. "Call me when you find something," he said curtly before hanging up and taking the tray from her and ascending the staircase.

When Chuck arrived in Blair's bedroom, he came to find her already in the shower, and therefore the breakfast was forgotten. After he joined her, Blair made sure he made up for their time lost when he disappeared downstairs to make a phone call, to which, he happily obliged.

"You're insatiable, Waldorf," he said gruffly, mirth stitched into the edge of his words "You'll wear me out if you keep jumping me like this."

"Insatiable, yes, but only for you, Bass," she flashed him a cheeky smile, "But don't you worry, that's the last of me you'll be getting until the Saints and Sinner's ball." She laid another gentle kiss on his lips, "Oh, and…I didn't jump you. It's not my fault you just-so-happened to have a thing for the nape of my neck and dirty fantasies."

Any bliss Chuck felt from the good morning shower sex they'd just had suffered a massive hit. He blinked incredulously, mouth set in a thin line. Until tomorrow? Wrong. She had to be suicidal if not homicidal - the odds of either of them lasting that long was far out of bounds, no matter how stubborn the two of them could get.

Nonchalantly, Blair reached around Chuck and shut off the water, before stepping out of the tub, and reaching for one of her soft blue towels. "You can't blame me for trying to preserve our honeymoon phase," she began, crossing the room to sit on her white marble counter, "All I'm saying is no sex for a day, how hard can it be?"

"Oh, I think you know how hard it can be, Waldorf," Chuck leered at her, a devilish smirk playing across his lips with his suggestive comment, before saying, "Need I remind you what happened the last time we had a little fast? I don't have any shoes I can spare for you to hold hostage. I'm a serious businessman now."

"The last time we had a little fast? More like you had a fast! I was dying, Chuck, throwing myself at you, and what did I get in return? Nothing." She sighed, crossing her legs, "I don't want us falling into a routine like last time, Chuck. And it is my birthday, so that means, you have to do what I say."

"Define 'sex'," he challenged her petulantly, hoping against hope that there would be a loophole he could jump through to touch her (taste her, have her taste him, he'd missed it so much - it was a violation of the Geneva Convention to have her take it away from him so soon!).

"Sex," Blair began, "Meaning intercourse. Everything else is fair game." She watched slowly as Chuck exited the shower, openly admiring him, quickly becoming very jealous of the little drops of water that slowly traced along his skin. Her visual, however, was soon interrupted by the towel that he slung (purposefully, that Basstard) low enough on his hips to tease. Blair paused for a moment, lifting her dainty hand to examine her nails, "Besides, tomorrow we'll both be unsatisfied, making it even better." It was a good plan in Blair's mind, besides, they couldn't get too used to having each other so often, since she wanted their "honeymoon phase" as she put it, to last as long as possible. Considering it was their third try at everything, she wanted it to actually work out.

"Tomorrow I'll be unsatisfied and won't care about anyone but myself," he informed her darkly, crossing to where she sat and kissing her quickly. Lies, and they both knew it. Forget the fact that he was Chuck Bass, he'd never let her wait or go unsatisfied while he tended to himself - any finishing from him first had to happen because her mouth was around him and she signed up to put him out of commission for awhile. "Although I'd love to stay with you at the penthouse for the rest of the day...I would like to take an...actual shower." He smirked at her, eyes raking up and down her body.

Addressing his second comment, she frowned slightly, "Go home if you need to, Bass, but you better hurry back. Just because I say no sex until Saints and Sinners' doesn't mean that I want to spend my birthday with Dorota." In fact, quite the opposite, she'd planned on spending her birthday in bed with Chuck until her new plan came to mind—that, and the fact that she wanted to plan out his Ball the next day.

Spotting her frown as she reluctantly agreed to let him go, he smirked and chucked her lightly under the chin, his fingertips gliding over the softness of the flawless porcelain skin. "I'll be back to cater to your every whim," he drawled the promise. "If it makes you feel any better there's another present I've left for you at my suite. You can either wait here for me to return with it or get dressed and come with me and then accompany me to the venue for the party tomorrow. Never plan without knowing what you have to work with," he said loftily before sauntering out of the room to don his clothes from the previous evening.

"It's a great offer, Bass, but as you know, I'm well acquainted with every party venue on the Upper East Side. You can just make up your absence to me later, possibly after our dinner at Lion?" Blair uncrossed her legs and pushed herself off the counter, "Speaking of which, I need to go pick up a new dress at Bergdorf's." Blair followed Chuck out of the bathroom, after he'd gathered his clothes from the floor, into her bedroom, slipping off her towel uncaringly and tossing it over one of her chairs, before opening up her closet and surveying it for an outfit.

Chuck's eyes moved to her body, like the earth on its rotation around the sun...she was so gloriously…. He averted his eyes with great difficulty, suddenly finding the buttons on his shirt to be the most fascinating pieces he'd ever seen. When they were done, the same sense of enthrallment overtook him regarding his jacket, which was just covered in microscopic lint! (So microscopic, in fact, that it didn't exist at all.) He slipped his shoes on, folding his bow tie neatly in his hand (it was silk, he wasn't going to just crumple it).

Reaching for a royal blue dress, Blair tossed it on her bed, and proceeded to cross the room to her underwear drawers. "I'll meet you at your penthouse before our reservation?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow in his direction before slipping into a pair of black La Perlas.

Finally, his eyes landed on her again, and they lit up in approval as he spotted the black lace panties that she'd put on. He nodded and crossed the room to her. "Come straight up when you get to the hotel," he agreed, leaning in and kissing her cheek (casually, almost. Like it was a habit, and they'd do it every day for the rest of forever. If he had his way…). "And," he lazily slipped his fingers over the edge of the tempting underwear. "Wear these," he smirked wickedly, eyes flashing, before disappearing from the room.

Blair was left standing there in front of her dresser, dumbfounded and horny, no thanks to Chuck. In a way, however, it was simply her fault. Just one look, one word, one simply brush of his lips or touch of his fingers and she was melting for him, literally. Chuck Bass was a sexual man, and Blair Waldorf couldn't get enough. After a few moments, Blair moved back across the room and prepared herself to go out—picking out shoes, accessories, and doing her hair and make-up. On her way out of the penthouse, she sent a message to Serena;

Hey S, meet me Bergdorf's?

Before Blair had even gotten out of the elevator that was descending to the bottom floor her phone buzzed, signaling a response. Serena's name in block letters read across the screen;

B there in 30!

Once Blair arrived at the shopping center, she went straight to lingerie, figuring that she'd kill time while waiting for her golden-haired friend to show up. She browsed through the racks in search of something skimpy yet elegant, lacy yet naughty. It wasn't until she came upon a deep red set that she stopped searching. It contained a lace and mesh bustier with silk ties and accents, a matching thong, and of course, black garter belts. Picking up the set, she directed herself to the dressing room where she tried it on. After admiring her reflection in the mirror, she searched through her Gucci bag and pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of herself in the mirror.

"Home," Chuck directed Arthur, a spring in his step as he strolled towards the window, crisp air ruffling his hair. Warmth enveloped him when he slid into the limo, and he flopped back against his seat, a strange feeling of… contentment creeping through him. It had been a long time since he'd felt this way, he mused, but over the past few days he seemed to be awash with it. So much of the better part of this year had been full of misery, self-loathing, and pining for Blair that he hid under an alcoholic haze. Before that, it was Elizabeth Fisher, and before that trying to launch the Empire (for the first time) had consumed him. Those days might as well have been a lifetime ago, though, with the simple calm he felt. Yes, he conceded as the limo took a turn, he was still concerned and very much preoccupied with the mysterious caller and any threats, real or imagined, that were there. But frankly, being with her made even that seem less ominous. He could go home to her, or her to him, and in addition to indulging in her company, he could also know that she was safe.

Some time later, he was exiting his bedroom at his penthouse, firmly tying his purple paisley robe around his waist, now freshly showered with his own soaps. Having canceled his day with the intent of spending it with Blair, he now found himself confronted with an enormous amount of free-time, and he couldn't quite say that he knew what to do with himself.

"This is Chuck Bass," he said into his phone. "I'd like to request a home appointment for as soon as possible. …. The Empire Hotel, penthouse suite. …. Check in with the front desk before you come up. Thank you." He ended the call before sauntering over to his bar and getting out a glass while pulling his decanter of scotch towards him. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, idly taking note of the time. 11:30 - not exactly noon, but it was noon somewhere. Besides, this was a tame time for him to drink, he'd done far worse, far earlier in the day. Amber liquid tumbled out of the crystal holder, and he lifted it, inhaling deeply as he took a healthy swallow. Then, his phone rattled noisily against the counter top on the table, so with glass in hand he returned to the living area and snatched it up.

He smirked slightly when he saw 'BLAIR' across the screen before he opened the message. Instantly his smirk dropped and he stared intently at the small picture. He swallowed tightly in a way that burned his throat more than the liquid in his glass. He couldn't see much, but what he saw was red, and tasteful while somehow showing an incredible amount of skin. A shrill ring interrupted his thoughts which were rapidly moving from suggestive to perverse.

"Yes?" he said sharply into the landline for the penthouse.

"Mr. Bass, Cindy Lee from the salon is here, shall I send her up?" He gave his consent before hanging up and returning to the picture in front of him, slowly walking towards the seat he would take for the session.

He scrolled down farther and saw the message she'd included with the picture, and he instantly chuckled, giving a shake of his head as the doors peeled open on the elevator.

Tmrw night, Bass, this angel will B drawn 2 the dark side.

"Set up over here," he said with a wave of his hand.

Once Serena arrived, Blair joined her at the entrance to Bergdorf's and they immediately started their hunt for the perfect dresses. While they were browsing the racks of couture, Blair debriefed Serena on the plans for the Black and White Ball—more importantly, how she'd changed the theme and that Serena would be in need of a new dress and mask.

After they'd picked out several different gowns, Blair heard her phone buzz, signaling a new text. Seeing 'CHUCK' flash across the screen made a silly grin spread across Blair's features, even before she opened it and read the content, which just made her grin stretch further.

Tease. UR no angel Waldorf, but that's why I keep u around ;)

From the corner of her eyes she saw Serena peeking at the text, curious as to what her best friend was smiling at.

"Oh, please don't tell me you're sexting Chuck, we're in a public place, B!"

Blair's eyes snapped up to Serena's, a look of disbelief on her features, "Oh my god, who do you think I am? Of course I'm not, we're discussing the ball."

Serena shrugged innocently, "I dunno Blair, I wouldn't put it past you, ever since you and Chuck got back together-"

"So it's true."

A voice broke through Serena and Blair's conversation, causing the pair to turn at the source. Blair's eyebrows rose on her forehead as she took in the form of little Jenny Humphrey standing before them.

"Um, it's called minding your own business, Humphrey." Blair spat, shoving her phone back into her bag and turning to walk away.

However, the voice of the persistent blonde didn't cease, "Don't forget Blair, you declared war on my brother. Humphreys stick together, and don't think for one second you're going to get out of this unscathed. Just because you and Chuck are back together doesn't mean you're gonna win."

Blair stopped in her tracks, not even bothering to turn around. Instead, she looked back over her shoulder, her ice-cold glare slicing through Jenny's. "You sound so sure of yourself. It's almost endearing. I'll see you on the battlefield, little J." After looking forward again, Blair signaled Serena and walked towards the dressing rooms to try on their couture. Once inside, Blair set her Gucci bag down by the door and turned to face the mirror, slipping off her royal blue dress, and stepping into a cream-colored one—something she'd thought would be perfect for the ball. She was so enthralled with her own reflection, that she didn't even notice the dainty white hand slipping beneath the dressing room stall, and removing her phone.

Sun, red as the blood in his veins, was streaming through the penthouse windows, soaking the room in its setting rays. He stared out the window, eyes squinted against the harshness of the light, trying to remain… calm wasn't the word, because he was very fast past that, but trying to remain in one piece. Because he felt like he could explode at any minute, just break. As easily as the house of sticks had fallen when the big bad wolf came to blow it all down. Maybe he should do what he'd planned to do over a month ago - pack up, disappear, sell his life and create a new identity for himself where no one knew him or knew who he was supposed to be. It certainly had to be easier than this, than this… this back and forth, up and down, side to side he'd dealt with over the past few days. He'd thought things had finally settled between him and Blair - that after months of agony and heartache from both of them (although admittedly, they expressed it in different ways) they were finding their own level. She'd admitted they were together last night, at her own birthday party, despite all the social ruin it could bring about for her, forgiving the scoundrel who'd treated her so viciously. She'd said she loved him. She said…. Long fingers squeezed tighter around the small square box in his hand, a not-so-tiny diamond twinkling up at him from its spot against the satin. She said she would marry him.

But had she? Had she really? It had all happened so fast, but he had sworn that they'd reached the point where when he did ask her, officially, it was understood that she'd say yes. That the only reason they weren't labeling each other as fiancee was because he hadn't put her ring on her finger and wouldn't until the storm had passed and it was accepted that they were for good this time. But maybe he'd only inferred it all and any body language or words he'd missed had gotten swallowed up in his own greedy desires to have her bear his ring and his name - hell, his child, too, if she wanted that picture perfect lifestyle she'd chattered endlessly about when they were younger, simply switching out her golden haired prince with her dark knight. But apparently, he sneered to himself, she hadn't been quite ready to give up on even the prince part of her dream. Her phone felt heavy in the pocket of his suit, and he wondered, melodramatically, if he'd have to burn this to get the filth out when he returned it to her. He hadn't believed it when he'd had it brought up a little while earlier. It had been handed off to him and it was vibrating insistently. The number of text messages left unanswered seemed outlandish, and when he saw they were from Serena and Nate he had intended to do what he thought was the considerate thing and let them know Blair had misplaced her phone and it had only just gotten back to him and she wasn't here yet. When he opened the messages to respond, however….

SERENA: B, what r u talking abt? U & Chuck were disgusting last night?
BLAIR: Ur right, CHUCK was disgusting, S. Slimy basstard.

NATE: Blair, u know it's over btwn us. Where is this coming from?
BLAIR: It's never been over, Nate, not for me.

SERENA: U were so happy when he was texting u at BG, tho…
BLAIR: I wasn't texting HIM, S.

NATE: Chuck's my best friend, I won't do this. U love him, remember?
BLAIR: I'm with the wrong best friend. I love you, Nate. Always have, always will.

He'd seen all he needed to see to feel like his entire inner-core was caving in on itself. He'd felt sick, but unable to throw up; he'd wanted to shout, but had been unable to find a voice; he wanted to yell, and kick, but hadn't been able to find his limbs. When he did find the will to move, he'd hurled out of his seat on the couch and gone straight for his safe, spinning the dial until it popped open. He'd shoved his hand inside, knocking aside the long, rectangular velvet box that housed the necklace he'd bought the day before and found, instead, the small, square one he'd purchased months ago that guarded the most perfect ring that he knew belonged on her hand. Holding it tightly in his hand he swung his arm - if he aimed right, he could send it sailing through the window, out over the avenue and right into the fountain at Lincoln Center.

He hadn't been able to do it, though, which was why he was standing in front of his window, defeated, holding it in his hand. He shouldn't be so surprised, he supposed. Every voice that had ever told him he wasn't good enough, was just a selfish, womanizing, money-grubber was bearing down on him. It wasn't a surprise that Nate had won out over him, the good boy from old money with charisma and a winning smile. (He'd have to thank Nate for his loyalty, though, when it was all over.) Nate was by far the better option, and she'd never lie to Serena. Blair didn't deserve Nate, though, he thought to himself scathingly - not when she was such a person that could have people falling at her feet, ready to give her a Manhattan Empire if she'd only let them, only to turn around and betray them. He'd hate to see the same fate befall Nate when they were five years older and Nate was a senator like every other Van der Bilt. Chuck's humiliation would already be public enough, but a senator would be even more public and that much more degrading when it came out his wife was using him. He'd been such a fool…. Never would Chuck Bass have the good grace to get Blair Waldorf to love him. To marry him. There would be no Blair Bass, no Mr. and Mrs. Bass to grace page six, no bundles of children to ruin the ludicrously perfect penthouse that they would have picked out together (by together, obviously, he meant the one that Blair gushed over and had picked out ahead of time while patronizing him with others and somehow managing to find something wrong with every. Single. One.).

Hours later, on the cab-ride to The Empire, Blair restlessly dug through her purse.

"S, it's not here!" she moaned with an exasperated tone, sinking back into the seats with defeat.

"I'm sure it'll turn up, it's Bergdorf's, no one will steal it."

Blair looked over at her friend incredulously, "That's the best you could come up with? For all I know some crazy drug-fiend is pawning it off right now!"

The cab came to a stop outside The Empire, and Blair managed to pull herself (along with all her new purchases) out and into the elevator. Losing her phone was making her anxious, there was stuff on there she didn't want anyone getting their hands on—especially when most of the UES was looking down on her currently. The elevator ride up to Chuck's penthouse seemed longer than usual, but she was incredibly relieved when the doors slid open and she was wrapped in scents and sights that just reminded her how lucky she was. In other words, everything Chuck.

"Honey, I'm home!" She called out, stepping into the main room and setting all her shopping bags on the floor.

His shoulders stiffened, and he wondered how he might have greeted her if he hadn't found her phone. Probably kiss her in a way that made her question her decision to ban sex until tomorrow night. Slide her dress up just a bit too high and accidentally find his hands pawing at her underwear. He had to marvel at how calm and collected she could sound, however. His clever girl always did know how to get everyone to sing the song she wanted to hear. He didn't turn around immediately, but eventually he did. Still holding the ring in one hand, he dug into his pocket with the other and pulled out her phone.

"The concierge," he began, slowly, voice measured as he opened the phone and scrolled through her messages, "was kind enough to drop this off after it was left in his care once you misplaced it."

He stopped on the message that he deemed to be the most offensive and hurtful and angering (always have, always will). He lifted his gaze and met hers with a steely look in his eye as he handed the phone over to her. There was a sharp click, then, when the velvet box in his hand snapped shut, and he strode past her, grabbing the phone off the end table by the couch as he went.

"If you'll excuse me," he breezed. "There's something I need removed from my possession." Even as he said it, he knew the box in his hand would only be going to his private safety deposit box, and it would probably stay there until his last breath. He couldn't send it back to the store just now, and he wouldn't want to see it again after tonight.

Blair's eyes flickered up to Chuck, and she blocked his path, grabbing his arm and forcing him to turn around. "Chuck, what's—" her words were interrupted by the buzzing of her phone. She picked it up and looked at the text from Nate; What has gotten in 2 U? This cant B U. U love Chuck.

Realization dawned, and she glanced up at her boyfriend (soon to be ex, if he had any choice), trying to decide how to approach this.

"You went through my phone," her voice offered no room for argument, and instead of letting him speak, she continued, "Chuck," her voice was harsh, "You need to listen to me. I didn't send any of these text messages. I haven't had my phone since S and I tried on our dresses at Bergdorf's!" Her firm and steady tone was quickly becoming shrill and shaky. She was trying to keep it together, though she was seething with anger.

"Someone must have picked it up and tried to sabotage me…" Her mind reeled, trying to think of someone who might want to hurt their relationship, but sadly for her, right now that list was the entire UES population.

"Little Jenny Humphrey." It had to be her, she was the only one who would think up something so…so...Blair-like. "We saw her at Bergdorf's, she saw me texting you, she-she must have found it and sent these. Please Chuck, you have to believe me!"

She'd do anything at this point. All these little things began clicking, Dan and Jenny Humphrey, her phone, the messages, the ring Chuck held in his hand, and most importantly, what he planned to do with it. She realized how guilty she sounded by pleading but, how could he?

"How could you think…" she stopped short, shaking her head, eyes cast downward. How could he think I'd send these? Pain gripped her and she stared, glassy-eyed, down at the carpeting.

"Why wouldn't I?" he finally said, forcing himself to look at her downcast figure. "Up until three days ago, you hated me. I have…" his thumb ran tightly over the edge of the box.

Eva didn't count in his mind.

"I hated you?" she yelled, desperately seeking some truth in his words, "Why do you think that Eva isn't standing right next to you, right now? It's because I never stopped loving you Chuck. I can't. I've tried, so hard, to get rid of you, but I can't. You mean too much to me."

"I have never wanted anyone but you. But you… you've wanted Nate. You've left me for Nate before." She'd also left Nate for him, too, even if it had taken awhile to come back to him. "It doesn't make sense for you to…" his jaw was set and his clenched hand lifted with the box to run over his mouth. The more he thought about it, the more he was second-guessing himself, but by this point it was more of a matter of not changing his mind on his assumption and admitting he'd been wrong than truly believing his thought.

"I left you for Nate? I left you for Nate because he was my boyfriend. I left you for Nate because you refused to tell me you loved me!" This brought tears to the brunette's eyes, the mere thought bringing her back to a dark place. Bringing her back to the days that she pretended not to care for the basstard, and the nights where she wept, wondering why he couldn't love her. Why he couldn't say it.

Blair mentally crushed that inner voice that was betraying her heart, even though she felt that Chuck was doing just what she was avoiding. He was giving up. The smallest roadblock in their newly found relationship, and he wasn't even going to try and fix it. Blair clenched her hands into fists, her nails biting into the palms of her hands with the pressure.

Her voice slowly lowered in its volume, "Eva isn't here right now because I got rid of her. Don't tell me for a second you didn't feel something for her—why else would you have declared war on me? If it hadn't been for the accident, where would we be right now?"

"Because I loved you and you wouldn't let me!" he exclaimed, voice rougher than normal. "I declared war because when I was with Eva I could focus on trying to change myself, and without her all I could think of was that I was alone, that you were never going to…." He stopped, because remembering the knowledge he'd believed himself to have at the time of never having her in his grasp again (literally or figuratively) was still unpleasant. "You drove me to war." He also refused to think of where they would be if he hadn't got the call that brought him to the hospital.

"If you love me, Chuck, you'll trust me." She glanced down at her phone, she knew what she was saying was unfair. They both knew he loved her, but trusting her was a whole other issue. He'd admitted she'd never be fully trustworthy—all because she wanted to help him plan something. Her eyes were glued to a text from Serena, and she sniffled, viciously wiping the tears from her cheeks, as if they were betraying her.

"Besides, why would I text Serena? I was with her all day! Jenny must have somehow taken my phone while we were shopping, and has been sending these texts purposefully to try and break us apart!" She nearly exclaimed this new piece of information, as if it was the key unlocking the whole incident. However, she doubted Chuck would feel the same way. She knew that they were walking on thin ice, and Blair was only helping to crack it.

Chuck looked down at the tiny square box in his hand and loosened his grip slightly so he could roll it over his palm. It had all been a mistake, he realized, recognizing his rash actions, and because of it he may very well still have no need of the ring, because she might have no need of him after this. Swallowing tightly as Blair spoke, he turned and headed towards the bar, pulling his scotch glass towards him. He placed the box down on top of the bar, fingers stiff from the way he'd held it, and pulled the bottle of liquor towards him, uncapping it.

"We may have… inadvertently… provided the perfect chance for revenge from her by announcing ourselves the way we did," he began, pouring himself a drink, the liquid in the glass suddenly extremely fascinating to him (he just couldn't look at her when he told her this). "After all, I imagine she would be quite put out when her interview with Tim Gunn got canceled… when I canceled the interview," here it was. He took a breath, "that I set up for her." He scowled and kept his eyes locked on the glass in front of him. He hadn't even brought it to his lips yet,

She narrowed her eyes at him (rather, the back of his head), initially, but the brunette's eyes became immediately trained to the small velvet box lying idly on the counter. Blair's brow furrowed, "Why would you…" realization dawned on her even as she spoke. The reason why Jenny Humphrey was back on her island, after she'd exiled her, was because Chuck had set up an interview for her. The Basstard. It had no doubt been when they'd declared war, but nevertheless, the bleached-blonde was in Manhattan, wreaking havoc.

This new information, however, wasn't exactly a bad thing. When Jenny found out that Chuck was the one who planned and canceled her interview, she would be seething. She already wanted revenge on the two of them, and this would make her even more vengeful. "As far as Jenny knows…we hate each other right now. You know, Bass, we could probably use this to our advantage." Blair crossed the room and sat down on his couch, flipping open her phone and sending a text to Penelope and Is:

Little J is on the island. I say…off w/her head. U 2 R on stake out. Keep me updated.

"I hope you still have that PI on speed-dial. We're going to need as much dirt on the Humpreys as possible," Blair had gone from innocent victim to ruthless queen in less than a minute—she wouldn't let Jenny win this one. "You should probably cancel our reservation at Lion, I have a feeling this will take awhile." When it came down to Blair Waldorf, plotting social destruction was better than couture or expensive dinners at her favorite restaurants—dare she even say sex. The takedown of Jenny Humphrey, just so happened to be the second greatest birthday present she could ask for. The first, was currently sitting at the bar with scotch.

A/N: Well? What did you think? Also, if there is any confusion as to the Serena/Blair texts, remember that in the show, Jenny switched out Serena's sim card, because Juliet, Vanessa, and Jenny were all trying to take her down. In our version, Jenny is also trying to get at Blair because of her declaration of war on Dan. Anyways, REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! The shower scene from this chapter will be uploaded into a one-shot if anyone is interested in just what Blair meant by "dirty fantasies". ;)