a/n: thank you REVIEWERS! - Frieda van den Huetten for telling me what his name actually is 6; i feel a bit lame for mistaking it all this time - I share your deep love for this film also and hope you will continue to tell me what you think! :) 3 Lady X, you made me so happy with your praise! I really hope you will keep this opinion as I delve further into this tale =^^= 3

disclaimer / I do not own any of the characters or references to the Titanic film (or the actual film for that matter!) or make any profit from this work.

The morning light streamed through the opened shutters and turned the restful darkness bright with a new day. Rose frowned with closed eyes. She was not happy to be wrenched away from such glorious solitude and as wealthy girls often do, was most eager to speak out these frustrations on the nearest servant. 'Sarah, is there something wrong with your tongue that it shouldn't warn me before you blind me in the morning? It's appalling!' Rose's burgundy locks fanned out over the creamy satin pillows and tumbled as she turned her face into them.

'Begging your pardon miss Rose, but Madam Bukater will be cross with me if you're not at the breakfast table in a half hour! I'll have your bath ready.' Sarah was a dull faced girl with mousy brown hair. She did no less than what was expected of her and for someone with such a weak willed constitution, she performed her duties well and offered amusing conversation when Rose was open to it. Rose sighed in the empty room and listened to the water rushing from her washroom. Dragging herself to an upright position, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees and gathered her wits. The lilac wallpaper seemed dull today, she noted and slide her eyes over the polished beechwood of her dresser and chairs. The soft curtains were the glimmering blue of a caribbean shore line and the wooden floor panels spanned at least 18 feet from wall to wall. Sarah laid Rose's robe of crimson red satin across the rich indigo duvet, and with a new resolve to end another long day, she draped herself and tiptoed lightly across the room to join her maid. She thinks that, much like Sarah, Ruth's temper was not something to ruin so simply before 10 am.

'I believe Cal is rather fond of you, Rose.' Ruth stated without glancing up. She neatly speared a baby boiled potato and sliced through it before popping it into her mouth.

'It's quite likely Mother; much like Tyler Hiltern and Sam Montgomery. They both seemed quite taken with me, last night.' Rose quipped over her buttered toast.

'Perhaps, but Cal Hartley is another league altogether; I want you to progress further with his acquaintance, Rose.' At this, Rose's sea blue eyes snapped up to meet her mother's identically blue stare. A frown marred the younger Bukater's features as she lowered her cutlery to the table. 'The Hartley fortune is overwhelming Rose, don't you see? He is going to take over his father's oil company one day and when he does, he will be one of the most wealthy young men of our circle. I want you to snap him up while he has his eyes on you and do it quickly.' Ruth calmly stirred her cup of tea without chinking the spoon against the china and took a delicate sip. Rose leaned back in her chair and quietly surveyed her mother for a few minutes in the silent breakfast room. The upholstery was plush and the linens were white as white could pristinely be. The mantle clock ticked gently by as Rose struggled to respond appropriately.

'Mother...' She began and opened her mouth only to be beaten to it.

'Get ready Rose, Mrs. Hartley invited us over for tea after lunch and I want you looking your most impeccable. Have Sarah find that dusky pink gown I like; it will impress Mrs. Hartley.' The housemaids cleared the table and Ruth headed to the parlor to read her favourite ladies gazette, very much dismissing the young woman left at the table without much room for arguement.

X X X X

'Madam Hartley, may I present Madam Ruth and Rose Bukater.' The butler introduced in the lounge of the grand Hartley estate.

'Thank you Channing. I'm so delighted that you could come, Ruth - and with such a beautiful daughter in tow!' Caroline Hartley was a beautiful woman. Her fair tresses were pinned neatly away from her face and framed her bottle-green irises so softly, that one was lulled into a false sense of security around her. However, Ruth and Caroline were not allied by mere coincidence: having attended the same boarding school as girls, they remained cool toward each other. It was only having kept in the same circle throughout marriage and fortune that they understood that there was much to gain from bonding their families.

'It was no trouble at all, Caroline dear! we were delighted with the invitation were we not, Rose?'

Rose smiled disarmingly and replied, 'indeed we were Mother, I'm glad to make the acquaintance of such a good friend of the family.' Rose seated herself opposite the older ladies who occupied the pale pink sofa across the mahogany coffee table. Art Nouveau was vastly popular in their modern times and was scattered stylishly in the expensive furnishings of this stately home. The lamp stands and wood carvings on the chairs and table legs were of sensual women, posing delicately and portraying their fragility. 'Might I say Mrs. Hartley, that you have impeccable taste.' Rose murmured as she studied the furnishings with a cup of tea on her lap. It's heat radiated into her gloved fingertips and intensified the poignancy of the carvings' faces. Some with closed eyes; some with bowed heads and tilted necks - Rose felt something akin to a ghostly memory in their beauty.

'Oh, thank you my dear Rose - I find it most appealing to be surrounded by fine art; it sets my mind at ease...especially seeing as though I have such an eligible bachelor for a son!' Caroline laughed gaily and was joined with a small chuckle from Ruth. Rose almost gagged indignantly at such a ill hidden poke in her direction and instead jauntily cocked her head saying,

'Oh, I could only imagine how many young girls fall at those well shined shoes of his! I'm sure it is quite a task keeping such a young man in check. I do hope it's not too much trouble for you Mrs. Hartley and that your nerves are not shot at the mere mention of it. Wouldn't you agree, Mother?' Caroline laughed hesitantly as Ruth glared frostily at the sweet smile Rose directed at them. Rose felt she had accomplished a small victory in that tea room and settled comfortably as she finished her tea, listening half heartedly to their asinine conversation covering the latest gossip and scandals of the week. Whilst Rose acknowledged that it was always helpful to know the weaknesses of others and to be on one's guard, truth be told she was rather sick of the false pride accustomed to being born of wealth. It riled her to no end, that as girl from a long line of wealth, she was forced to keep others at arms length at all times to prevent herself from being used for the gains of others. It was a rather lonely existence actually, and one that she often dreamed could come to pass.

X X X X

'Cal! by God man, your positively genius!' Rod Mason practically yelled to his friend along side him at the bar. The rich boys were cruising the lively down town scene of New York City and drinking to their silver plattered success of being wealthy and successful businessmen, barely out of their 20s.

Cal grinned at his long time ally and replied, 'Well Rod, someone stood to benefit from that deal - it may as well be me! A toast! - to being more successful than our old-fashioned fathers!' clinking their glasses, they downed their liquor in one large gulp.

'Ah, Cal - what say we have a party tonight? we can drink and dance and have all the pretty girls we want! let's celebrate, goddamit!'

Cal laughed amusedly at his boisterous friend, 'father expects me home tonight for some finalising on the deal.'

Rod grinned as he ordered another drink, 'suit yourself, Hartley - God knows you're far too restrained to have fun, anyway!'

Cal turned on his way to the door and replied,'Mason old boy: there's no room for fun in hard business.' Smirking as he exited the premises, there was more than one pair of painted eyes magnetized to his retreating form.

'Hard business, indeed!' was the more sober of Rod Mason's thoughts that evening as he stared into his drink, amused and rather squiffy.

X X X X

'Caledon my boy, you did well today. Your ambition truly does precede you! I see great things for the Company with you leading it as you will one day, when I step down as Head Chairman.' Mr. Hartley Senior was now more of a jovial type of fellow having ruthlessly slaved away to build his company to it's current worth - he laughed until he was blue in the face, smoked expensive cigars and drank rivers of whiskey until the early hours. This being a more sombre occasion, old man Hartley was living up to his hard earned title and decided to give his predecessor The Talk. As the battle strategy churned in his mind, he was pitifully reminded that The Talk was usually reserved by a silly female on the topic of 'futures' pertaining to a significant male; darting his gaze away from his quizzical son, the older man in the room lit his cigar in an agitated fashion and drew the smoke into his lungs; it's familiar warmth washed over him in soothing waves. Sitting up in his forrest green arm chair, Cal's attention was piqued by the bizarre behaviour and also straightened, arranging his face in an expression that reflected intense focus.'...Cal, your mother and I have discussed plans about your future and think that now is the time for you to settle yourself and put your energies into running this company with both hands. You've had your fun. You've enjoyed the company of many girls and ladies of stature,' Cal dryly raised a disbelieving brow at this,' but this reckless behaviour of yours must stop. You could be a significant investment in my company...and I want to know that I am wise in my current decision.'

Cal turned to the open window facing out of his father's study, overlooking his mother's flower garden. Autumn gradually tightened it's death grip on delicate stems, plants weakened and went about kowtowing the earth that spawned it; the nectar sweetened its floral scents signifying it's fatal sickness. He felt a grim irony that flowers could be the most sweet as they died, as his affluent choices in life were most heavy on the precipice of his losing them. A deep chuckle floated from his soft lips, as he turned to his over-bearing father. Burying his hands within his pant pockets, he fixed his father with a stern look. 'Sir, I have long since felt that as the future chairman of the Company, it would be in my best interests to select a wife of good social standing; someone who will represent my name, and the company, with flawless charm.' Cal slowly paced the study, to the area where his father sat observing him.

'Indeed son, a very wise move in your career. As a socialite, and a wealthy one at that, your options may seem endless - however I have found a most suitable woman for the honor. Her family is old money: going back many generations, traced all the way to Europe, France.'

Cal saw a glint in his father's eye, the old man's glazed stare told him that this was something that Hartley Senior hungered for. Starved for it, even. Licking his lips unconsciously, old man Hartley explained that the girl's father was indebted to the Hartley name for clearing the mountainous debts he owed. The family's riches hemorrhaging at the walls of their once proud estate had not a penny to their name. His father's insinuation suddenly aligned perfectly and Cal understood that with the blood of old money flowing in a Hartley descendant's veins, the Hartley name would attain the regard of the highest social order in their elite circle. Chocolate swirled in the irises of each man in the perpetual silence of this epiphany. Anyone could make money in America - Mr. Hartley even said that a smarter man might even make himself rich, but a self-made man will always be socially inferior to a man of noble blood and birth. Both men almost tasted a drop of what was denied them in their superfluous and materialistic lives: an aristocratic bloodline; the passport to worldwide acknowledgment and eternal status. And they lusted after it with a bestial passion. Cal Hartley, turned his handsome head back to the starlight infiltrating the darkened study with a fusion of floral essence and heavenly regard. He walked back to the open window and clasped his hands behind his back, as though in deep contemplation.

'Well old man, what is the name of my fiance as you've managed not to tell me as yet?' Leaning back in his earthy green arm chair, fully satisfied with the business conducted this evening, took a drag of his cigar and murmured silkily,

'Bukater. Rose Dewitt Bukater.'

Caledon Hartley silently gasped at this stunning revelation. Raising his gaze toward the moon, he wondered what supernatural powers had afforded him such odds; gave him such a gloriously goddess-like creature to be his wife. his possession. his claim to power that he had never really considered. Having previously considered seducing her, taking her as his wife would be just as sweet and surely more gratifying than a short-lived affair on his part. Now that she was at his mercy, there was so much more that he could take from the world and the opportunity she presented only multiplied his desire for her, now.

And by God, would he get it all.