A/N: This chapter is part 2 of 4.
"You!" Blair gasped.
"Me," Chuck replied, winking at her. He leaned against the doorframe of her office at Paris Vogue, hands shoved in his pockets and staring innocently at her.
Innocent, my ass, Blair thought with a snort.
"Why are you always sneaking up on me?" she demanded, grabbing a stack of magazines and thrusting them into her oversized Marc Jacobs hobo bag. "And what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in New York."
Chuck took her words as an invitation to strut into her office further. "I had a craving for those sweet chocolate pastries from Baccarat," he answered, picking up a look-book and flipping through it at a languid pace. "I thought you'd be used to my presence by now."
Blair stared with open loathing at the man before her. He just didn't know when to give up! And if he did, he certainly did a good job of pretending like he didn't. She snatched the look-book from his hands and added it to her bag, ignoring the way his eyebrows raised in amusement.
She dropped her bag onto her desk with a thud and turned to face him. "Who let you in?"
"A charming girl at the front – Colette, I believe?"
Ugh, she is so fired.
Blair's response was swift: "I should have known that crossing the Atlantic posed no threat to a stalker of your caliber."
The corners of Chuck's mouth lifted into a complacent smile. "I'm not stalking you, Blair," he assured her smoothly. "There's actually some business here that I'm taking care of for Bass."
As he spoke, his fingers reached out to pluck a curl from its resting place on her shoulder. She stiffened as he rubbed it gently between his fingertips…but before she could balk at the contact, he let it fall.
Then he threw her off completely balance.
"You look beautiful today," he whispered. His hand came up to cup her cheek and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.
For a moment, his bad-boy façade fell away. Something about his voice…it wasn't dripping with smarm or ulterior motives. It was soft and soothing; it was the voice he reserved for her when they had escaped from the eyes of the world and they could just be ChuckandBlair.
For a moment, she remembered what being in love with him felt like. She remembered the times he brought her flowers when she was sad and surprised her with romantic evenings and kissed her cheek hello, because he knew how romantic she found it.
For a moment, he was her Chuck again.
His mouth came dangerously close to hers as he slowly drew back; she could feel his short puffs of breath on her face. She recalled the last time he had been this close to her: Serena and Nate's kitchen, when she had nearly begged him to kiss her. If he tried to kiss her now, she didn't know what she would do.
The spell broke at that thought. She knew exactly what to do if he tried to kiss her, and that was to tell him to go to hell. Or somewhere far, far away where he could make passes at someone else's fiancée.
"Stop it, Chuck." Her voice came out as a whisper, so she cleared her throat and continued in a more confident tone: "Do you have short-term memory loss or something? Didn't I just tell you a few days ago that this –" she gestured between them "– isn't going to happen?"
His eyes flashed and he leaned back, still toe-to-toe with her but no longer a breath away.
"Since you've been spying on me, then I'm sure you realize how busy I am," she said haughtily. "I have to get back to my hotel."
"I'll drive you," he blurted immediately, reaching for the bag that she clutched tightly in one hand, stopping only when she jerked it behind her.
"That's not necessary, Chuck," she protested. "My car will be here any minute."
"I insist."
She could tell by his tone that there would be no arguing with him; they could continue their banter for hours and he might never concede. Realizing she didn't have time to prove her theory right or wrong - and remembering that she hadn't even called a car yet - she rolled her eyes and sighed.
"Fine," she agreed. "But straight to the hotel. And quickly…I have work to do."
Chuck nodded. "The car's already waiting."
Blair gathered her things, then breezed past him and walked purposefully to the sliding double doors that led onto the street. A shiny black car that obviously belonged to Chuck idled at the curb.
But before the driver or Blair could reach her door, Chuck had pulled it open and was waiting patiently for Blair to enter the car.
He motioned for her to get in. "Blair," he said, his voice warm and soft again.
She resisted the urge to gape. Chuck had always treated her like a gentleman, but she had never witnessed him open his limo door for her.
Maybe time had changed him…if he was opening the door for her - a task he had always left to the building staff or his driver - maybe he had changed in other ways too. Perhaps…
No, she chastised herself as she climbed into the car and settled into the cool leather seats. He was still the same man who had betrayed her trust, lied to her for his personal gain, and slept with the person she hated most in the world. He could never be anyone different; all of the things he'd done to her were the essence of Chuck Bass. He didn't care about anyone but himself.
Why did being around Chuck always make her thoughts fly off in crazy directions? She shouldn't even be thinking about him or whether or not he'd changed. She had the most wonderful fiancé she could ask for. He was her other half, the one she would grow old with.
Just as she was smiling at the prospect of growing old with Nicolas, Chuck slid into the seat next to her with a smile and winked.
The butterflies went mad; she looked away from him quickly and focused on the stone building adjacent to the car.
Damn him!
With Chuck's nod to the driver, the car entered traffic and they were on their way.
"So," he said casually. "How was your visit to the vineyard this weekend?"
Blair rolled her eyes. Of course he knew that she went to see her father. "It was nice," she replied. "The vineyard is doing quite well; it's grown even in the few months since I was there last."
A genuine smile appeared on Chuck's face. "That's good to hear. How are Harold and Roman?"
Instinctively, Blair lit up at the mention of her father and his partner, but it quickly faded when she recalled how different her father looked. She broke their gaze to look out the window, hating how quickly her eyes started stinging.
The sound of Chuck moving on the leather seats made her wish she hadn't gotten in the car. She didn't want him to see her like this: weak, crying...
Vulnerable.
Chuck's voice was soft: "Blair?"
She clenched her jaw and plastered her best society smile on her face before turning to look at him. His head was tilted to the side, granting him a better look at her. Concern radiated from his warm brown eyes. "Why are you crying?"
Don't say anything, don't say anything, she chanted to herself. If you start talking, you'll start crying…and if you start crying, he'll see that you're weak and try to take advantage –
"I think something's wrong with Daddy," she blurted, the predicted tears brimming immediately as she watched Chuck's face fall. Before she could reach up to wipe her eyes, Chuck had pulled her across the seat to wrap his arms around her.
The feel of his body was both familiar and alien; it had been so long since they had been this close. And though she knew that allowing him to hold her blurred some lines, she couldn't deny that his embrace comforted her. Maybe if she pretended that Nicolas was holding her, reassuring her, then she needn't feel bad…
But the sensations that Nicolas Faria and Chuck Bass inspired were too distinguishable, too wildly separate from each other. She could be blind and deaf and still be able to tell them apart just by how they touched her.
She should have pushed him away. She should have listened to the voice of prim and proper Blair Waldorf, telling her that she was headed down a dangerous path. But instead she melted into his arms and allowed herself to be comforted, remembering another time he had held her this way.
Blair heard the door open over the sounds of the shower and her tears and cursed. Why was he home already?
"God, that son-of-a-bitch from legal – the one whose father was on the board years ago? – is making my life hell. And I know it's because of that mess with Bart when –"
His next words were drowned out by a sob that she couldn't hold in any longer. She tried to mask it with a cough, but Chuck Bass wasn't stupid.
"Blair, are you cr –"
"No, I'm fine!" she snapped. "I just…some of my conditioner dripped into my eye, and it stings."
The frosted glass separating them softened the sharp angles of his suit. She shivered despite the steam billowing from the hot shower water; she was desperate not to allow him to see her like this – weak, crying, vulnerable – and willing to do almost anything to make him go away.
"You're lying."
She squeezed her eyes shut and commanded her voice to remain steady. "No, I'm not. I'll be out in a minute, Chuck. Just wait for me in bed."
The rush of cold air an instant later surprised her and her eyes flew up in alarm. Chuck was standing in the doorway of the shower, eyebrows drawn together in concern. She wrapped her arms around her body to combat the sudden chill he had invited in.
She knew from the pained look on his face that he saw right through her lie. "I told you I'd be there in a minute."
"You didn't get any conditioner in your eyes, Blair," he said softly.
"Yes I did, Basshole," she insisted, hoping that he would give up if she argued enough. "I told you –"
"There's nothing in your hair," Chuck interrupted. "It's barely wet. Hell, you haven't even taken the pins out of it yet."
She closed her eyes in defeat. "Please," she whispered, turning so that her back was to him. "Just leave." Her resolve to hide her breakdown from him now completely abandoned, she sniffled and wiped the wetness from her eyes. Her legs felt shaky and she knew she didn't have the strength to stand anymore.
She sunk to the floor of the shower and hugged her legs to her chest. Then the shower door shut and the cold evaporated. Solid arms tugged her back to where Chuck now sat behind her, and she allowed herself to be pulled onto his lap and into his embrace.
Within moments, the shower – and Blair's tears – had completely drenched them. Chuck's suit stuck to his body and he realized that in his haste to comfort Blair, he had neglected to remove his shoes.
"Chuck," she sobbed into his chest. "Your suit…shoes…they're ruined."
But he didn't care about his shoes.
He answered her instead by tugging the pins out of her hair and letting them fall to the shower floor. His fingers combed through her locks, twisting the strands into thick spirals and letting them fall down her back. She shook with sobs, her face buried in the crook of his neck and her arms tucked between them.
"What happened?" he asked after she had calmed down a little, tilting his head down to kiss the top of her head. "Did Eleanor say something about NYU again?"
"N-no," she choked.
"Was it about me?" he ventured.
"Maybe." Blair sniffled.
When Chuck sighed and rested his chin on the top of her head, she knew he was waiting for her to continue.
"She thinks we're moving too fast," Blair explained. "But we haven't even moved in together!"
Chuck kissed her head and spoke into her hair. "She seemed fine with me the last time I saw her."
Blair ignored him. "She had the nerve to say to me: 'He's Chuck Bass, why would he buy the cow when he can get the milk for free?' What a pedestrian idiom! As if we could ever be so common. Doesn't she know –"
"She can't hate me that much," he chuckled.
"– your reputation?" She scoffed and realized that she was no longer tearful, but growing rather indignant. "She must not, because if she did, we wouldn't need to have such an embarrassing dinner conversation. For you to sleep with the same girl more than once is an accomplishment –"
"Eleanor invited to Thanksgiving."
"– but a relationship? Now, that is a completely different –" Blair stopped mid-sentence and pulled away from Chuck slightly. She needed to see his face, to see if he was joking. Had she just heard him say "Thanksgiving"?
"Did you just say that my mother…invited you to Thanksgiving this year?" she asked incredulously.
Chuck looked down at her and nodded. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"In France?" Blair asked, pulling back further. "With Daddy and Roman?"
Another affirmative nod.
Blair eyed him skeptically. "What did you say?"
Chuck reached up and traced her jaw with his fingertips. The contact sent sparks shooting across her skin, making her want his fingers to trail over every inch of her body.
Chuck's eyes burned into hers. "I told her that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," he replied, voice smooth as silk. "I want to be included in your traditions, Blair. All of them."
Blair found herself torn between grinning and shedding happy tears. She knew Chuck was a closet romantic, but still…he wanted to be included in family holiday celebrations. It was a huge step for him.
"So you're going to come?" Blair whispered.
Chuck smirked. "I intend to stick around for a few more Waldorf family traditions."
"Just a few?" Blair asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Well," Chuck said as he dipped his head closer to hers. "I hope someday we can make some family traditions of our own."
She caught herself before she spluttered in shock. Had Chuck Bass just insinuated that they'd be married one day? She had thought about it, of course – but for Chuck to bring it up was definitely a shock to her system.
Her eyes must have been wide as saucers, because he chuckled. "Does that meet with your approval, Waldorf?"
Blair didn't bother answering him. Her lips were on his a heartbeat later and her hands were peeling away the layers of clothing covering his body. Chuck made love to her for hours – until she didn't have the strength to form a coherent sentence, much less remember why she had been crying in the shower to begin with.
He had saved her again.
"Blair, it's okay," Chuck murmured, brushing at the tear tracks on her cheeks. "Tell me what happened. Why do you think something's wrong?"
"He's just…different. He seems tired," she said, sniffling in a very unladylike way.
"Tired? That's it?"
"Well, he looked tired, so I asked him if he was feeling okay," Blair explained. "When he told me everything was fine, Roman glanced at me. I just knew…Daddy was leaving something out."
"Did you ask Roman about it?" Chuck asked, his thumb rubbing slow circles on her shoulder.
"I could never get Roman alone," Blair sighed. "Daddy took me on a walk around the vineyard, and when we got back he sent Roman out to do an errand. I had to leave for Paris before he got back."
Chuck was silent for a moment, but his fingers began twisting strands of her hair between them.
"I'm sure your father would tell you if something were wrong," Chuck said a moment later. "He wouldn't want to see you worrying."
Blair pulled out of his arms and wiped her eyes. "That's exactly the point," she retorted. "He won't tell me because he knows how I'll react. And I'll bet he told Roman not to say anything, too."
"Would you feel better if I had my PI look into it for you?" he asked.
"You would do that?" Blair said, surprised at his offer.
You're never going to let me go, are you?
No, Blair. Never again.
Chuck reached out to take her hand and raised it to his lips. His eyes burned into hers as he branded a kiss into her skin. Was her heartbeat always this loud?
"I'd do anything for you," he whispered.
She knew she shouldn't accept his help. She should tell him to forget about it, that she was more than capable of charming the information out of Roman. If she didn't, he was likely to think that she was encouraging him. But for every part of her that rebelled, there was another part that was…touched.
So instead of refusing, she thanked him quietly. He answered her with an equally soft "you're welcome."
They spent the remainder of the ride in silence – Chuck was on his phone (presumably texting his PI) while Blair stole glances at him, wondering where the sudden change in him had come from. He'd known that she had visited her father…was he also aware of what was wrong with him? Or was this a new tactic he was trying to win her back?
When they arrived at Blair's hotel, he got out of the car and opened her door for her (again!), then held her hand as she climbed out of the vehicle. She was so distracted by her theories on his abrupt change in manners that before she realized what was happening, he'd placed another gentle kiss on her cheek.
"Everything will turn out alright," he promised, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before leaving her.
She made it up to her hotel room before she touched her fingertips to the place where his lips had just been.
SEVEN MONTHS AGO
Nicolas laughed as he steered her into a room free of excited (and tipsy) guests. He wound his arms around her waist and drew her against his body. "Are you ready for your present?"
"I'm marrying you tomorrow. That's my present." She winked and stood on her toes to kiss him.
"Right. But I'm impatient, and I've got my half of the traditional wedding gifts –"
"Which we both agreed would be exchanged before the ceremony. Tomorrow," Blair reminded him, punctuating her words with trails of kisses along his jaw and throat. "So unless this…gift…results in one of more articles of clothing being removed in the next minute, it will just have to wait another twelve hours."
"Fourteen," Nicolas corrected. "But I have another gift to give you tomorrow…and I promise you won't regret getting this one early."
She rolled her hips against him, her excitement mounting when she heard his breath hitch. "Does it involve showing me how much you can't wait to marry me?"
"Yes," he replied huskily, his arms wrapping around her waist. "But not in the way you're thinking."
She pulled back and stared up at him, her lower lip sticking out in her perfected pout. "Okay…fine. But will lips be involved in any way?"
"Mm, no," he answered with a smile.
"Hands?"
He shook his head.
She ginned wickedly at him, her fingers plucking at his tuxedo buttons. "Tongues?"
"I'm afraid not," he teased. "But I can guarantee there will be plenty of that later, if that helps?"
Blair raised her eyebrows and gave him an angelic smile. "It would…if you were allowed to see me. But once this party is over, you're going back to your place. I'm staying here tonight."
"This is a silly tradition, Blair," Nicolas said in an exasperated tone.
"It's tradition nevertheless," she said, giving him a good-natured smile. "So if pre-marital sexual favors aren't my present, I demand that you show me my real gift now…so I can get back to changing your mind about aforementioned favors."
Nicolas didn't waste a moment – he pulled a ribbon from his jacket pocket and held it in front of her. Hanging from it was an old looking brass key and a tag.
"Nicolas!" Blair exclaimed, wrapping her fingers around the key. "What is this?"
"Read, chèrie."
Blair shot him a playful look and held the tag up, reading quickly. A beat later, she looked up at him, and then back down at the tag.
He watched her with excitement in his eyes, eager to see her light up when she understood what he was giving her. "Do you like it?"
"This is a key…to a house," she stated.
"Oui," he replied. "But not just any house, Blair."
He took her hand and pulled her to the window at the far wall. He pulled the curtains open and directed her gaze south. In the darkness, a few kilometers away, she saw a house bathed in golden light.
"Here," he whispered, putting a pair of binoculars into her hands.
She let out a gasp when she looked through the lenses. The house – no, mansion – was clearly built many, many years ago. From what she could tell, it looked to be from the 17th century at least. Modern supports had clearly been added to the structure, but it retained its old-world charm. The shutters at the windows had been made to be decorative instead of functional, and she could just make out the beginnings of a well-lit and tiered garden off the back of the house.
When Blair lowered the binoculars and turned, she found Nicolas smiling expectantly at her. "What do you think?" he asked.
Blair opened her mouth, unable to speak. The gift was so lavish, so extraordinary, so…much – she never expected anything like it. A diamond and platinum tennis bracelet? Of course. Plane tickets for their honeymoon? Sure.
But a 17th century manor in the French countryside? She never expected that.
"Is this a summer home?" she finally blurted.
Nicolas looked puzzled. "No," he answered slowly. "It's…a home. Our home."
"Our home? As in…full-time home?" Blair said, dazed. Her thoughts were suddenly zooming around in different directions.
Nicolas watched with concern as her eyes glazed over. He put his hands on her shoulders and spoke to her reassuringly. "You don't have to worry, Blair; we can have all of our things moved there while we're on the honeymoon, and –"
"But what about my job?" Blair said, tripping over her words in her rush to get them out. "And – and your company? Our friends? We're five hours from Paris! How do you expect us to work that way?"
"Well, I can work from anywhere in the world," Nicolas explained her in a calm voice, realizing how quickly the situation could get out of hand. "And…you do most of your work from your office at home, so I spoke with your editor at Vogue. She said it was fine, as long as you attend all the important weekly and monthly meetings. Plus –"
Blair had been gazing down at the floor in an attempt to organize her thoughts, but at his last words, her gaze snapped up to meet his and she became frenzied.
"Stop right there," she demanded. "I do most of my work from home, so therefore it's just no big deal to pick up and move hours away? And you discussed this with Sophie? Without speaking to me first?"
"Calm down, chèrie –"
"Don't tell me to calm down!" she shrieked.
"Blair, the guests," he warned, tightening his grip on her shoulders. She immediately wiggled out of his grasp and took two steps back, eyeing him dangerously.
"I don't give a damn about the guests, Nicolas," she hissed.
He threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine, make a scene. I thought you liked the vineyard?"
"I do like the vineyard," Blair spit, restraining herself from shaking sense into him. "That's not the point."
"Then tell me, Blair: what is the point?" Nicolas countered. "Because I thought you would love to live out here, in a beautiful home with your father and Roman so close by. Paris is just a few hours away, not across the world."
Blair rolled her eyes angrily. "The point is that you didn't even ask me before you decided all this!"
"Mon dieu, you are a spoiled little princess!" he exclaimed, turning towards the window and gesturing towards the distant estate. "Everything I've done to surprise you…you're just…ugh! I can't win with you. You've always told me how you wish your father lived closer…so I go out of my way to make this move easy for you, and you're being –"
"If I'm so difficult, then don't be with me," Blair snapped, stung by his words. "Just leave me, go off and have your family find you some convenient marriage."
"Stop it, Blair!" he yelled. He began pacing, trembling, and gesturing wildly in an attempt to keep himself from exploding. "I'm not leaving you. I'm trying to explain to you that even though sometimes it's hard, this – us – always been worth it. I wanted to give you something that I thought you would like, something that I believed would make you happy."
"Maybe you should have mentioned that 'gift' before our rehearsal dinner," she answered venomously. "Or better yet, before you bought it."
"I didn't think that I needed to clear gift-giving with you, Blair," he retorted. "Maybe I should have just handed you a necklace, or a…a Matthew Williamson dress and called it a day, then?"
Blair felt her breath catch in her throat; her voice was a whisper. "A what?"
Nicolas ignored her and continued his rant. "Yes, next time I'll remember that obviously a home, a place where we can build a life together, is just too much…"
Her face was red and eyes filled with tears, but she couldn't care about that now. Appearances meant far less to her in that moment than they ever had before, because she could never be as hideous on the outside as she felt in her soul.
She hated him.
She hated his uncle, his mother, the memory of his father that drove him to this point, his fucking hotel…
But mostly, she loathed herself.
"I did what I had to…to win."
"No," Blair whimpered. Even her voice offended her; it reeked of desperation and embarrassment.
"I can't let my feelings cost me all that I've built," he explained. His voice sounded desperate, as if he was trying to convince himself that his actions were forgivable.
"Even if it means losing me instead?" She stepped towards him. "All I ever did was love you."
She wished he could understand that he'd broken her, that there was no explanation he could give for doing what he did, that she'd never see him the same way again.
Because now she knew that she was a pawn to him – someone he could use as a means to an end. He considered her his property, something he…owned.
The very word made her sick. Blair Waldorf, the property of Chuck Bass? This wasn't how it was supposed to be! They were supposed to be a team. They were supposed to figure things like this out together.
"The worst thing I ever did, the darkest thought I ever had…you said you would stand by me through anything," Chuck quoted her, making her throat sting with a mixture of tears and bile. "This, Blair, is anything."
"I never thought that the worst thing you would ever do would be to me!" she cried.
"You went up there on your own."
The sound of her hand making contact with his cheek echoed through the empty hallway.
"Good-bye, Chuck."
Nicolas' voice was booming now.
"– think I'm just going to sell it back, you're wrong – we're moving there and that's final, do you understand –"
"You don't own me!" Blair screamed, cutting him off. She snatched the closest thing to her on the table and hurtled it across the room, watching as it shattered against the wall.
Nicolas took a step back and stared at her in horror.
Blair had never lost her temper with Nicolas before; the fights they had were generally over before either could raise their voice. But now, on the eve of their wedding day, she'd thrown something – a champagne flute, she realized – at her fiancé and accused him of owning her. She was comparing him to Chuck…
She was comparing Nicolas Faria to Chuck Bass. The two men couldn't be more different from each other, and yet, she had managed to make them one and the same. All from one fight…one fight that made her remember that terrible night at the Empire.
Thinking about Chuck in any way on the night before her wedding…that wasn't a good sign at all.
"I can't do this," she said, shaking her head slightly and keeping her eyes trained on Nicolas. She couldn't bear to look at the evidence of her outburst dripping down the wall.
Nicolas blanched. "Blair…ce?"
"This…the wedding…I can't do it," she said, each word hammering at her heart. "The wedding is…off, Nicolas."
She didn't want to wait for him to argue; she knew she wouldn't be able to stomach it. She just wanted to escape, to be alone, to understand what was going through her mind without Nicolas there to hinder the process.
Fortunately, Nicolas looked unable to speak.
But as Blair turned to flee from the room, she found a group of guests from the reception watching the scene intently. She didn't know how long they had been standing there or what they had heard, but from the looks on their faces, she guessed they'd seen enough.
Eleanor stood before her with a pained expression, clutching her father's hand tightly.
Blair felt her heart break again at the sight, but she couldn't – wouldn't – back down now. Something had broken inside her when she'd thought of Chuck…she wouldn't be able to go through with her marriage to Nicolas after what she'd just accused him of.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, wishing that she had the words to explain what had just happened. "I just can't…I'm sorry."
Then she rushed towards the shocked crowd, which parted enough for her to escape without another word.
I promised some of you a fast update, but are you surprised to see one so soon?
Thanks to ivorykeys09, whose constant ideas and general awesomeness make me work twice as fast.
Many thanks to those who added alerts...but especially to those who reviewed: tinamarie333, Maryam25, ivorykeys09, D (I hope this chapter was a bit more to your liking - there's plenty of time for Chuck to make up for himself yet! :)), Rf (thank you!), Krazy4Spike, Temp02, TriGemini, Aliennut, LeftWriter224, 88Mary88, and TerraBeth (it's good to be back!).
And don't worry, we'll find out why Chuck was in Blair's suite in the next chapter! Anyone care to share their guesses? :)