Chuck found himself sketching on his blotter again Monday afternoon - this time a miniature version of the brownstone complete with a tower turret - a playhouse for his and Blair's children.

Children. It had only been a few weeks. He didn't even know if she was pregnant yet and he was already thinking in multiples. He found her confident, ambitious persona far sexier than her younger, eager to please version had been.

He raked a hand over his jaw and tried to refocus on the columns of numbers in front of him, but Bass Industries finances couldn't hold his attention.

Silence Blair's return he'd had a hard time maintaining his interest in his work. His mind flicked back to Friday night. When he'd heard Blair come home, he hadn't been able to wait for her to come upstairs. He'd wanted to share her enthusiasm - or disappointment. The bath he'd run for her had ended with a hot make out session followed by leftover hors d'oeuvres eaten in bed while she told him about the event.

The fire of excitement in her eyes while she'd talked had reminded him of the women he'd fallen in love with so long ago and of what he'd stripped from her the first time around. No wonder she'd left him.

Like him, Blair needed to feel pride in her accomplishments. By making her a homebody, he'd limited her outlets.

His door burst open and his brother stormed in. "Have you seen this?"

Eric held a newspaper opened to the society, aka gossip, page.

"I don't read that crap. I'm surprised you do."

"Serena showed me. You might reconsider reading it since you, your wife and Bass Industries are mentioned. "

Chuck's senses went on red alert. "Judging by your tone, I take it the article isn't a positive recap of Friday nights auction."

"Far from it."

Chuck took the paper and skimmed the page looking for what had sent Eric into orbit.

Realestate Top Gun shoots Blanks?

The headline hit him like a sucker punch. He gritted his teeth and read on.

What's a thirty-something women to do when her biological clock starts ticking and she can't find suitable daddy material? Blair Waldorf Bass, wife of Charles Bass, CEO of Bass Industries, reportedly took matters into her own hands recently and visited a lock sperm bank. Rumour has it she petitioned for a deposit made by her estranged husband, but that disposition was destroyed. Now she and hubby claim to be reconciling. Meanwhile she is relaunching her clothing line out of his upper east side basement.
Is this a case of home-is-where-the-heart-is or just a form of direct deposit? If Bass' CEO is faking his marriage, what else is he faking? Stay tuned. But I wouldn't suggest a custom gown from Blair Waldorf Designs, if the date of your event is nine months from now, since Mr. And Mrs. Bass have already purchased nursery furniture.

Chuck wanted to rip the gossip rag to shreds. But that wouldn't solve the problem. "Blair doesn't need this when she's working so hard."

"Is it true? She tried to get your sperm bank deposit?"

"That is nobody's business but ours, Eric."

"It's my business if it affects Bass Industries. And that column slanders us, too."

"Who in the hell would make a personal attack like this?"

"I only know one person who stands to gain if you look incompetent, and he happens to fight dirty."

Chuck didn't need a genius IQ to follow Eric's line of thought. "Jack? But why target Blair."

"Because she's your weak spot. You didn't answer my question. Is your reconciliation a sham? Is she back just for a kid?"

He owed his brother the truth. "Our reunion started out that way when the clinic contacted me about Blair requesting my sample. That's why I asked about the divorce papers, and then I subsequently found out we were still married. Blair agreed to move back in if I'd father her child. But our marriage isn't a pretence anymore."

Eric cursed and strode to the window. "How many people knew about the stupid sperm bank dare?"

"Only family, Nate and some other guys from school, but they made a deposit too. Outing me would also bring their part in the stupid dare to light." Chuck tapped his pen on his blotter. "If we have a leak in the office, the perpetrator could have gotten the info from my office. The sperm bank faxed forms to me here. I kept copies just in case something went wrong."

Eric cursed. "There is no 'if' Jack clearly has someone feeding him information."

"If it is Jack." Chuck didn't know why Blair had left him the first time. Would this embarrassment be enough to send her running again? He had to fix this before that happened. But how? "I don't want Blair to find out about this."

Eric pivoted, his mouth agape. "It's a paper with a circulation of tens of thousands. You can't buy and burn every copy or keep people who've already read the column from talking."

"I need to get Blair out of town until the scandal blows over. No. Scratch that. She'll want to be here to take calls and make client appointments for BWD."

"You could try to get the rag to print a retraction."

Chuck scanned the damning words again. They didn't sound any better the second time. "Technically, nothing they've printed in untrue."

The intercom on his desk buzzed. "A reporter from the New York Journal is on line one," his receptionist said. "He wants to ask about a sperm bank?"

Reporters. Damn. "Hold all my calls. And don't talk to any reporters. I'm going out."

"Now?" Eric asked.

Chuck scrubbed his knotting neck muscles and rose. "I'm going to talk to Jack. If I leave now he may still be in the Boston office."

"What good will talking to that bastard do?"

"I don't know, but I have to do something. Or I might lose Blair again."

...

"Lay off my wife," Chuck growled at Jack Bass across the man's wide desk.

The older man laid down the paper Chuck had thrust at him, leaned back in his massive leather chair and cracked an amused smile.

"Aah. Nephew. What makes you think I have anything to do with this?"

"Because you are the only person who would go so low as to target my family to put yourself back on top."

Chuck studied the man's heavily lined face and steady dark eyes and found no evidence that Jack would crack.

"So what if I did let slip about my nephews escapades over drinks with a reporter." Jack quipped.

"This is the last straw Jack. The only reason I don't have you completely removed from the Bass Industries board is because your family. But as you already have a history I think it would be best if you headed back to the Australia office."

He wasn't about to risk losing his wife just when he'd gotten her back.

"You know the board would have to vote and you have no proof that I spoke to a reporter."

"You knew about the dare. You want to make me look incompetent to the board, and your driver - who is employed by Bass Industries - took you to meet the reporter last Sunday afternoon. How much more proof do I need?" He enjoyed watching His uncle flinch. "Either you call and retract your statements and apologise to Blair or I go straight to the board and you lose everything."

"Don't be ridiculous, Nephew. I'm the only family you have."

"No. Blair is my family. And the fact that you and I are related brings me nothing but carefully before you make you choice Uncle." Ignoring Jack's gaping look, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the house. He needed his wife. Only Blair's kisses could heal the wound of dealing with family who would stab him in the back.