III. Domination
Nausea gripped Blair and she feared that she would hurl up any moment. The thought of what she had agreed to do tonight was enough to make her gut painfully clench.
What had she agreed to? Why was the thought of a prestigious marriage, fine clothes and social power enough to compel her to make a deal with a man who had about as much moral integrity as a violent whoremonger on the meanest street of Brooklyn?
Blair shivered even though it was a balmy morning and the sun had cast the small balcony adjoining Ruby's room in a warm haze.
"Are you well, Miss Waldorf?" asked Ruby, her innocent eyes filled with concern.
Blair managed to dredge up a smile and ruffled Ruby's hair. "Nothing, Ruby. I'm just a little weary."
Ruby hugged her and Blair stiffened momentarily at Ruby's impulsive display of affection. She felt pathetic at the unseemly rush of emotion that went through her at someone loving her without any ulterior motive.
Christ, woman! Blair told herself, pull yourself together! You're not some weakling that can be undone by a little girl!
"I hope I'm not intruding upon this tender scene?" came a familiar sardonic drawl.
Ruby immediately pulled away from Blair and nearly toppled Chuck by throwing her arms around his middle, standing on the tips of her toes. Chuck was obviously disconcerted by his daughter's enthusiastic reaction to his presence. He merely patted Ruby's head and disentangled himself from her by giving her a new doll to which she squealed in delight and immediately abandoned her father to play with her newest acquisition.
"I hope that you are actually filling my daughter's head with some useful knowledge so she will be more than a vacuous ornament?" he asked Blair.
Blair pursed her lips. "As much as a five year old girl can absorb. I was not aware she was a child intellectual prodigy."
Chuck's eyes gleamed. "Very witty, Miss Waldorf."
"Papa this doll is so beautiful. When I grow up I hope I will be as beautiful!" Ruby exclaimed.
"I'm sure you will, my little princess. You will be like a doll that men will all gaze at wonder and then when they realise you have no more substance than a sweet, you will be left to gather dust on a shelf and rot away," Chuck said acidly, his eyes harsh.
Ruby—blessedly oblivious to her father's barb—giggled. "You're funny, daddy!" and turned back to her doll.
Chuck's face was harsh as he turned to Blair and said in a low voice: "Look at her. She will turn out to be exactly like her mother—all beauty and simpering nothingness underneath."
"You are harsh, Mr. Bass," she reproached him. "She's but a child of five."
"And you think you can turn her around into a paragon of womanly virtue, do you?"
Blair lifted her chin. "I'm not promising I will turn her into a Florence Nightingale."
"Good. I don't want my daughter being transformed into a self-righteous, prudish prig."
"You don't have high standards, do you, sir?" Blair murmured.
His eyes narrowed. "If you have lived the life I have endured, Miss Waldorf, then you will understand why—despite all reasonable logic—I hope that my daughter will somehow escape the curse that is attached to the Bass name."
"You're a contradictory man, sir. You firstly claim that you have no hope for your daughter as you've already marked her off as a simpering fool, yet now you contend you harbour high hopes for her future? I won't be chastised for your quixotic opinions."
Chuck stood so close to her that she could smell his cologne and just a hint of cigar smoke. "Have a care, Miss Waldorf. You still want that fairytale ending, don't you?"
Blair refused to cower. She stared him down.
Something resembling twisted admiration flittered across his eyes—so quickly that Blair thought she had imagined it—and was replaced with a leer. "Remember our appointment tonight, Miss Waldorf."
"I will hardly forget."
He smiled lazily. "I'm glad you keep time well. Until tonight."
He bowed mockingly to her, gave his daughter a curt peck on her head and then sauntered away.
Blair almost forgot to breathe.
She was not sure whether she was angry and humiliated or perversely awed by his blatant disregard for propriety and morality in the pursuit of his own desires and objectives.
That night at eleven pm exactly, Blair met Chuck at the entrance to the hotel's restaurant Lysander. His eyes burned like dark coals but he did not say anything, nor did she. He gestured for her to sit at the piano while he—with the lazy elegance of a lethal, leonine cat—made for the bar to pour himself a strong Scotch.
She sat at the hotel's piano and for some reason the melancholy, almost haunting melody that she first composed last night flew from her fingertips. She closed her eyes, steeling herself for the upcoming ordeal. When she thought of lavish rooms and clothes that could all become her own, she calmed. The melody enveloped her into a cocoon and she felt like Boadicea. She would not give Chuck the satisfaction of seeing her quiver or quail before him.
She would prefer to die first.
Oddly, he did not touch her. He just leaned against the piano's hood, drinking, his gaze fixated on her. Even with her eyes fluttering shut as she became swept up in the new melody flowing from her fingers, she could sense his stare. Yet, she felt power from the piano keys impart to her figure so that she sat ramrod straight—not a limb or eye twitched in nerves.
Her eyes still closed, she heard the soft clink of Chuck's glass tumbler being placed down and the rustle of his dinner jacket as he moved over to her.
Her heart thudded erratically against her chest.
Her fingers sped up on the keys, the melody now more aggressive and pulsing.
His hand grazed the back of her neck. "Play the first piece again," he murmured. "I prefer that to this one."
"What if I don't want to?" she lowly replied, her eyes opening.
"Do you want the fine house, handsome husband and more money than you will be able to dispose of?"
Blair swallowed her sense of degradation and switched back to the first piece again while silently loathing his position of power.
His fingers splayed over her collarbone and Blair's heart nearly popped through her skin. She could practically hear his smirk as deep heat rushed up her neck to her face.
"I can practically feel your heart thudding through this milk white skin of yours," he breathed. "Do you fear me?"
"No, Mr. Bass."
"You lie."
Blair's heart spluttered as his fingers briefly strayed across the swell of her breasts.
"Well then you must lust after me. Fear or lust, Miss Waldorf—it can't be both."
"I am filled with repulsion," she gasped out, her fingers still playing the melody he desired. "Repulsion with myself and for you."
"Repulsion is hardly new. I tend to inspire that in people."
His hands now lightly traced up and down her forearms, leaving her skin tingly. "It is hardly something to be proud of."
"Yet here you are allowing me to touch you—not out of any sense of love—but just because you desire riches and social standing. You're a mercenary little bitch under that prude governess façade of yours."
"And you're an amoral, twisted shade of a man that somehow was spewed out from the sewers of Hell onto the Upper East Side," she spat.
His left hand curled around her throat, jerking her head up so she could see his eyes. Fear stabbed her. Did she push him too far?
Instead a low laugh rumbled from his throat. It was not a hearty laugh but one that was sardonic. He rubbed his prickly, unshaven chin against her neck compelling Blair to involuntarily gasp at the sensation. "You're one of the few of have escaped unscathed from insulting me. You're lucky that I've developed a rather thick skin."
Blair was confused at his reaction. She had stopped playing when he had jerked her head up and was now erratically breathing because of her neck's awkward position. She found herself staring back up at him with a mixture of disgust and something else that she could not—or would not—define, and was unable to look away. He unwaveringly looked back at her.
For some moments they stayed like this.
Suddenly, Chuck released her, his face barren and devoid of any intensity. "Go, Miss Waldorf. I've no need of you now. You can go back to your cozy little bed."
Swirling with a mixture of shame and loathing—at him and herself—Blair could not register his command.
"For Christ's sakes, Miss Waldorf! Are you a dimwit? Leave me alone now!"
Blair managed to stand up and made for the door without looking back at him.
The next morning, Blair dreaded coming into contact with Chuck, but was surprised to hear from Vanessa that he had left again at first light to join his father in Boston and would not be back for a week.
That week passed too quickly for Blair's liking and her heart sped up when Dan informed her that Chuck was holding a lunch for a select few intimates: Mr. Nathaniel Archibald and Miss Serena Van der Woodsen. He also had an express order that all the household staff were to wait in attendance.
"He also requested that you bring Ruby to the luncheon," said Dan.
"Right. Thanks Mr. Humphrey," and Blair tersely waved him off, not wanting any company.
Dressed in her best yellow sundress that flared at the waist with a white sash, Blair felt confident enough to handle whatever was to occur at the luncheon. She made sure Ruby was down in the lounge fifteen minutes early and gave her a small cupcake as a bribe to be quiet and obedient.
At five past twelve, Blair heard the light murmur of voices and padding of feet. She double-checked that Ruby's attire was not wrinkled and that her hair was neat and reminded Ruby of her manners before the lounge door opened and Chuck walked in first.
His mouth curled into a smirk. "Miss Waldorf."
She glacially inclined her head. "Mr. Bass."
A giggling blonde in a stunning pale pink dress and diamond jewelry crossed over the threshold behind Chuck. "Oh Chuck, this house is so drab! You have to brighten this place up—it's like a tomb!"
"My dear Serena, perhaps I should enlist you to make this house liveable again? What would be the price?"
Serena gave him a coy look causing Chuck to smile broadly—the first time Blair had seen him do so without malice or mockery.
"Are you propositioning an unchaperoned woman?" jovially asked the strikingly handsome man with champagne coloured hair and hazel eyes.
"Nathaniel, we all know our Miss Van der Woodsen is a paragon of innocence," said Chuck, his face studiously neutral.
The triumvir was silent for a moment and then Nate and Serena collapsed into sniggers while Chuck's expression was one of leering amusement.
Blair was surprised that Serena was not affronted by the men's behaviour. Instead, she actively encouraged it and Blair sensed that Serena had been rather free with both men, judging from the knowing glances between the three. Neither visitor paid Blair any attention and seemed to be engaged in ribaldry until Chuck interrupted the revelry by saying: "By the way, this is my new governess, Miss Blair Waldorf, and my daughter Ruby."
Serena merely nodded at Blair and immediately scooped Ruby up into her arms, cooing over Ruby, who seemed delighted by having such a carefree and attractive woman like Serena showering her with attention.
Nate, meanwhile, appeared to be momentarily startled by Blair's presence. He shook her hand in greeting and smiled softly at her. "I am sorry for my momentary lapse in speech. I'm just surprised at how someone as graceful and beautiful as you can possibly be a governess."
Blair smiled. "Thank-you, sir. You're too kind."
Nate laughed. "Don't call me 'sir'—call me Nate. I'm not a sixty-year old crusty man."
Blair found herself immediately warming to this man. She did not think her smile could be any wider. "I'll try to remember…Nate."
His expression was soft and he seemed to be genuinely interested in her, and made her feel secure. He enquired about her governess work and her interests without appearing bored. Blair found herself discussing her love of literature—Nate freely admitting he had little time for reading and preferred vigorous exercise—and of her love of music.
"Miss Waldorf is quite the musician, Nate. She will beguile you with her playing," cut in Chuck, sending her a quick mocking look that Nate missed.
"I look forward to hearing you play, Blair. You're lucky, Chuck. She will be able to teach Ruby how to play."
Chuck's gaze was on her. "I am lucky to have such an accomplished pianist as a governess, Nate," he drawled and Blair did not miss the heavy irony in his tone.
Blair flushed, remembering Chuck touching her neck and arms as she played at Lysander. Nate, mistaking her heated face for humility at having praise heaped on her, said, 'Let's not embarrass Blair any further. She seems to have great humility and I like that in a woman."
"You're right, Nate. Humility is a rare gift and Miss Waldorf is nothing if not a humble person."
Blair wanted to slap him.
Chuck made a show of checking his watch. "Ah, it seems that Miss Waldorf must leave us and tend to her charge."
"It was lovely meeting you, Blair. It's a shame that you have to leave," said Nate with real regret etched into his features and voice.
Blair smiled at him. "Thank-you Nate. I'm sure our paths will cross again."
His hand lingered on hers. "I'm sure they will."
Serena only nodded disinterestedly at Blair and was more interested in pouring herself a glass of champagne.
As Chuck escorted a sulking Ruby and an ebullient Blair to the corridor, he murmured in Blair's ear. "I hope you like the look of your future husband."
Her eyed widened.
"Yes. Nathaniel is besotted with you. In six months, you will be the next Mrs. Archibald if you and I play our cards right. I told you I would keep my promise."
"But Nate would never marry a governess…"
"He will marry you. He'd be stupid not to," he whispered harshly. "He's devoured with thoughts of you and this isn't the 1800's. If you can fuel his lust and love, you'll have little trouble getting that Archibald diamond ring on your finger—mark my words."
"So this luncheon was for Nate to finally meet me…"
"Yes," he said shortly. "If you've finished with the questions, I can return to my friends and listen to him moon about you."
Blair narrowed her eyes. "If you dare try to sabotage me…"
Chuck sneered, "Give me some credit, Miss Waldorf. As long as you fulfill your side of the bargain, I'll fulfill mine."
With that, he turned on his heel and stalked back to the lounge leaving Blair standing with thoughts swirling around her head and her heart a tumult of emotions.