A/N
I'm so so sooo sorry these updates keep taking so long! Life...or SCHOOL...keeps getting in the way! busy me + busy beta = bad combo for speedy updates
oh, this is un-beta'd. sorry for any mistakes and grammatical errors!
And I have to shamelessly advertize my new one-shot(s)/songfic. haha. check them out if you want!
(Paris, je te déteste - Paris, I hate/despise you)
He had fully intended on being back in New York by now, he really had. He doesn't like Paris. There is just something about the city that leaves an uneasy feeling in his gut. It is too elegant, too charmingly sweet yet utterly deceiving. The chic stores, restaurants and lavish hotels and then the dark alleys, whispered secrets and Bois de Boulogne – the park where just about anyone could get their every…need, satisfied. The city is too complicated and too demanding, the fact that it is viewed as one of the most romantic cities in the world is ludicrous to him. He thinks of Paris like a temperamental woman; discretely elegant, enticing and sexy, maintaining a perfect façade to cover its harsh tongue and deceiving nature.
He doesn't like Paris.
Stepping out of the elevator at the floor where his office is situated - the sun still shining bright in the sky, the light seeping through the blinds covering the large windows - he is greeted by his French secretary.
"Monsieur Bass" The woman greets him as he walks through the door.
She used to work for his father; she middle-aged, married and her daughter just had a baby. All of those qualities are reasons he decided to keep her on staff – he really does his best not to mix business with pleasure, and there really is no need to risk temptation by hiring someone new who is hungry for approval.
"You have a meeting at ten o'clock with the new investors." She informs him further in heavily accentuated English, handing him a coffee mug as he walks past where she is standing in front of her desk.
"Thank you, Giselle" He nods before entering the office he occupies when he finds himself in Paris.
Sitting down behind the desk he turns the computer on before sipping his coffee, the caffeine dancing through his veins. Paris might be a bitch but at least there is good coffee.
Suddenly remembering something he can not help a devilish grin from spreading across his face. Quickly pulling himself together and putting on a mask of indifference, he calls out for the secretary;
"Giselle?"
"Oui, monsieur?" She is standing in the doorway in seconds, raising her eyebrows questioningly.
"Do we have a copy of the morning paper?"
"One moment." She requests, turning around on her heels and disappearing out of sight.
Returning moments later with a neatly folded copy of Le Monde. Her steps silenced by the carpeting on the floor as she walks up to him and hands him the newspaper.
"Thank you" He can not help a smirk from appearing on his features once again as he unfolds the newspaper to reveal the front page. Looking like a five year-old on Christmas morning and confusing the secretary with his unusually cheery self, before he dismisses her with a wave of his hand, his focus on nothing but the newspaper in front of him.
It had been too easy to frame that sleazy-looking, brainless model-seducer – really - it had been a walk in the park. The French Police had apparently been keeping an eye on Philippe de Valois for quite some time; his own personal agenda had only provided them with the last pieces of evidence, which enabled them to move ahead with their plans.
Relishing in the self-satisfaction that comes with a scheme gone well, his smirks widen further as he discovers that "his" little discovery has made the front page.
Smirking until the headline catches his attention, together with a big, grainy image accompanying it;
Photographe et son maitrêsse - revendeurs de drogue – arrêté hier!
His smirk dies in an instant only to be replaced by a scowl. Mistress? Drug dealers? Arrested?
Plural?
What the fuck? This doesn't make sense to him at all. Furrowing his brows as he examines the front page closer, taking a sip from his coffee absentmindedly as he flips open the paper to have a look at the article.
A few minutes later he has managed to translate enough of the article to understand that right now, Blair Waldorf is most likely locked up in custody somewhere in Paris.
Philippe de Valois is a drug dealer - that he knows for sure. His uncle had him on speed dial for god's sake, that alone is evidence enough in his opinion. And even though he has kept telling himself that he really never, fully knew her, he knows that there is no way in hell that article is telling the truth.
Being certain that she is being wrongfully accused of whatever it is she got arrested for, unfortunately doesn't answer any of the questions he is trying to block out at the moment. What the hell was she doing in Philippe's apartment? Why would she go back to that cheating, crackhead?
She got arrested because of me.
She only has her herself to blame. I don't care.
She got arrested because of me.
Up until this moment there has only been one time in his life when he has regretted scheming and ratting someone out. He can't help but find it more than a little ironic that that one time also centred around her; up until now the only scheme he has ever wanted undone is telling Gossip Girl about her pregnancy scare.
The irony is suiting in more ways than one, apparently most of his biggest regrets includes those white, plastic sticks.
No, that has nothing to do with this. This is all her fault; why was she even there in the first place?
But there it is now, that regretful, guilty feeling pestering his insides, mixing with tiny stings of old hurts and regrets.
It has been a long time since he wanted to break something as badly as he does right in this moment. Settling with flinging the newspaper off his desk, running his fingers through his hair frustrated.
Cursing whatever higher power that won't keep her out of his life, won't allow him to not think about her, he gets to his feet and starts pacing. Coming close to kicking a bookshelf covering the wall of the office in pure frustration.
Why couldn't he just have stayed out of it?
Well, he didn't stay out of it, and as he paces around the office he comes to the conclusion that the only way for him to be able to go back to not thinking about her, is to clean this mess up.
"Giselle!" He barks, and the secretary appears within seconds, looking slightly alarmed by her boss' sudden change of mood. "Cancel my ten o'clock and get my attorneys on the phone, now!"
Pacing around no longer enough, he turns on his heels and slams his foot into the bookshelf.
*¨*¨*¨*¨*¨*
I'm sitting here...writing on a paper for uni that has a deadline in the not so distant future...reviews would make me smile in my misery ;)