I see the future but live for the moment
I make dollars, I mean billions
I'm a genius, I mean brilliance
I've lost a lot, but I've learned a lot
I'm still undefeated…
While I enjoy the soothing feeling of the warm water against my skin, my mind races a hundred miles an hour. Georgina's words keep running through my mind. 'He's only capable of leaving damaged goods behind' She sounded so serious and honest, perhaps he is much darker and twisted then I made him out to be. Every soul has it's dark edges, they define you, they shape your soul. 'Be careful…' It's almost like everybody wants to scare me away from him, when all I want to do is be close to him. When I open my eyes I see him looking at me with those beautiful amber orbs and I just feel like drowning myself in them. I tilt my head to the side as I stare into his eyes.
"What?" He wonders. His tone of voice is gentle, kind and cautious. I wonder when ether or not he can see right though me and knows about the swirl of questions that is racing through my mind.
"You are a difficult man to…" I take a moment to choose the right word. He raises his eyebrows as he grows impatient. "Read." I finally finish off.
"Am I?" He wonders, a small smile plays at the corner of his mouth. He is well aware of that fact and we both know he is, so I wonder why he is playing a game. Thinking about it, he's always playing games and tends to come out on top. I just stare, leaving the ball in his court, making him make the next move, pushing him into a corner. It seems to be working because he opens his mouth to speak again: "What would you like to know." He states his question.
"Seriously?" I wonder.
"Seriously." He nods as he unbuttons the first button of his shirt.
"Are you a criminal?" I wonder. His hands pause for a second and he raises his eyebrows in surprise to my question and pushes himself away from the doorframe. "No." He smiles before answering me as he start to unbutton his shirt again. "I'm a businessman." He continues with a smug smile, making me wonder when ether or not all of his businesses are legit.
"My father was a businessman." I counter.
"Point well taken." He shakes his shirt off and waits for it to hit the floor before he speaks again. "I'm not that kind of businessman."
"Okay." I say, leaving room for him to continue and he does as he unbuckles his pants.
"I'm not going to claim I'm as clean as a whistle." He takes a breath before he continues, he is choosing his words carefully: "I can not say that all my purchases were done the right way."
"They said the same about my father."
"You father was a dirty businessman, Blair."
"No he wasn't."
"Yes, he was." His tone is cold, harsh. He's getting angry: "my books are as clean as a whistle, but that doesn't mean I am."
"So that make you what? A psychopath?" I snap.
"No." He sighs before he continues. "I'm not saying he was a bad father, Blair." He rubs his temples and visually relaxes before he steps into the bathtub with me. "Let's say I lean more towards bribery to get my way. It's always good to have leverage on someone."
"Do you have leverage on me?" I wonder as he sits down in the bathtub at the opposite side
"No. I don't." He's serious. I'm happy about the fact that he believes there is no need to hold on to some kind of dirty secret of mine over my head to keep me here and in a first response I pull him closer. He frowns for a moment, but follows my lead anyway.
I lean back against the tub as I pull him towards me. I ask him to turn around so his back is in full contact with my front when I make him lye back against me. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist. I can feel him tense up at the intimate gesture even tough we've had sex so many times now, then again this is intimate on so many other levels. I might be pushing personal boundaries with him and perhaps my luck. When he stays tense I'm afraid I've pushed it too far too fast, but after a few moments he starts to relax. I pull his head against my chest
"Did you have leverage on Mr. Walters?" I wonders while my hand moves up and down his arm.
"Yes."
"And you used it to force a deal on him." I state my question.
"Yes."
"That's cold."
"It's business." He counters.
I know for a fact that it is true. The best businessmen are the cold ones, those who do not care about others, about feelings, about consequences. They only care about what best for the business. Being cold is probably the thing that made, makes him successful. I know that asking about what kind of leverage he had on Mr. Walters is pointless, useless even. A player never shows his cards, it might make him lose the hand, the game even.
"Did you make him a fair deal?" I wonder while I move the sponge around his body.
"About a third under the asking price." He says. He looks how my hand moves the sponge around his upper body, cleaning it thoroughly. "It all depends on what you find reasonable."
A hotel like this isn't for sale for one, not even ten million, so if it went for 75 originally, Chuck paid 50. Not bad you might think, and right now I would be more than happy to oblige with you, but millionaires only count the millions they lost, not the ones they still have in the bank.
"So if you aren't a criminal or a psychopath. What are you then?" I wonder.
"Why are you so keen on labeling me?"
"I'm just trying to wrap my head around a reason as to why everybody keeps warning me for you.
"If I am anything, I'm a narcissist." His next words make me blush: "Who prefers innocent pure delicate flowers." He says while looking at me.
"I'm neither innocent or pure." I counter. "I may appear to be so, but that does not mean I am."
"And yet, you play the role so well. There must be some underlying truth there." His words make me feel like a young inexperienced girl, I might be new to the business, but I am not new to the concept of sexual experience.
"And yet," I counter in the same manner "you find me appealing."
"You are my forbidden fruit. I'll admit to that." He says huskily. "I should stay far away from you..."
His words worry me: "May I be so curious as to asking you why."
"Because I'm capable of turning a delicate flower like yourself" he says as he touches my chin "into a black roze..."
"I'm not much of a fan of roses." I respond, keeping the conversation light and airy. "Only those avalanche roses, but they have those big thorns. Those can ne real bitches, they sting you when you least expect it."
"So does that make you a bitch?" He wonders. It's good to know that I am not the only one analyzing our conversation. "Do you think it does?" I turn his question back to him, before I continue: "My favorite flower is a Peony." I respond matter of fact-ly.
"Is that supposed to be a hint." He wonders while I rinse his chest free of soap.
"No. I'm stating a fact."
"Are you now?"
"Yes I am." He pulls my head down and gives me a breath-taking kiss that ignites that fire, making my insides burn with desire. He leans forward so I can easily move around him, placing myself in his lap, where the evidence of his arousal connects with mine.
As we lye panting and sighing against each other, he allows me to brush my fingers through his hair. "Who was at the door earlier?" I wonder.
"Andrews. He brought a selection of clothing for you to choose from."
"A selection huh?"
He grins.
"Are you spoiling me?"
"Not that I am aware off."
"Who's Andrews?"
"My hotel manager."
"I figured that was Martinez..."
"Andrews during the day, Martinez at night."
"So that makes you the owner."
"And their boss. They must report to me daily. All of my businesses do."
"How do you manage to read all of those reports." I wonder honestly.
Chuck starts to laugh, like really laugh, at me probably.
"I have people who do that for me, Blair. I read the week reports they assemble."
That actually explains a lot.
"Come with me tonight." He whispers into my ear.
Oh my! "What?" I stutter in disbelieve. I never actually expected him to ask me to go with him. I figured I was expected to be there. After all he is still my client. His phone starts buzzing furiously, in the pocket of his pants that lies on the floor, ending our quiet and peaceful moment together. It's probably one of his many managers or accountants reporting for duty. To my surprise he let's it ring. "Blair, I want you to come to the Vanderbilt estate with me tonight."
My eyes grow wide and against all odds I stay mute. "Yes." I stutter.
"Good." He smiles before his lips lock with mine. His smile is beautiful, pure and has absolutely no resemblance to his trademark smirk. I like it. His kiss is dominant, hungry, needy. I return the level of dominance, a little battle is always interesting. The sex that flows out of this kiss is more than just sex, even though it's still sex. It feels different, he feels different, I feel different. Everything about it is slow, gentle and passionate: his trusts, my kisses, even the ministrations against my neck. We still manage to spill a whole lot of water in the process, giving the cleaning lady a run for he money and a couple of swears too. All I care about is him, me and this moment…
One day when the light is glowing
I'll be in my castle golden
But until the gates are open
I just wanna feel this moment
I try to keep my silk navy colored dress wrinkle free by repeatedly smoothing out the fabric. It's low cut and I hope it will make his jaw drop to the floor when he sees me. I'm on my way to the Vanderbilt Manor in Potomac, Maryland. It's just outside of Washington DC and all the rich, famous and fabulous families have a home there. Chuck had to go down to Potomac earlier today, for a boring business matter. Bringing me along would make it interesting for him, but I would have been bored out of my mind, his words not mine. So he send me out on a shopping spree. He placed Arthur, his driver, at my disposal for the remainder of the day, while he took the Bass Industries chopper out to Maryland. Potomac is similar to DC in one obvious way, it breathes money, wealth and power and without those 3 components you don't belong. While DC is packed with tall skyscrapers filled with either big offices or grand lofts, Potomac has one two thousand square lot next to the other. Beautiful nature all around, I'm pretty sure the sight here is magnificent, especially now when it is covered under a coat of snow. It's a shame it's already so dark outside. The sun was setting when I left DC, so at least I saw the scenery evolve from full on city mode to the first signs of the suburbs before the darkness of the night robbed me of my outside view. The limo is fully equipped, from drinks to magazines and newspapers, even an IPad to keep me entertained.
The phone in the limo starts to ring, I hear Arthur pass on our precise location and that we are about 15 minutes away. There is only one person who would like to know that. "Miss Waldorf?" He wonders next. "Mr. Bass would like a word."
Oh. I pick up the phone that is installed in the back.
"Hello." I muse seductively into the phone.
"Good evening to you too, Blair."
"Hi." I say shyly this time.
I can hear him snort through the phone and I imagine him shake his head. "Arthur has informed me you are only 15 minutes away."
"Yes, I heard."
"I look forward on seeing what dress you picked."
"I hope you like it."
"I'm pretty sure I will."
He sounds too smug for my liking. "Do you already know what kind of dress I am wearing?" I wonder.
"No I don't" His tone is betraying him and telling me he's finding all of this kind of funny."
"So you didn't bribe the saleslady at the shop to tell you what kind of dress was purchased with your card?"
"No." He says: "I called to check when ether you would be able to distract my competitors at the poker game tonight when you arrived."
"No you didn't..." I gasp.
"I did. She also told me that either dress would make anyone's jaw drop and that you are a delight to dress." He takes a moment to breath before he continues. "So that made me wonder if there's more then one dress?"
I feel busted, as if he just caught me shoplifting. Perhaps taking the second dress home was a mistake. It was never my intention to profit of his generosity. "The tag is still on the other dress, so it can be returned." I say in my own defense.
At the shop it was impossible to make a decision, they both looked too stunning and I wanted to make sure that I matched his suit somehow. So how was I supposed to manage that if I didn't have a back up option.
"I don't want to see it returned. I want to see you in it." He states.
Oh. Does that mean I get to stay longer? It appears so.
"As long as you don't rip it I'm fine with that." I say as if it my decision to make.
"Why would I not be allowed to rip the dress I bought you?" He wonders serious, but a hit of playfulness in his tone.
"Because!" I say, rather bluntly. "Because, it is too pretty." I continue honestly. "It's not that I don't like it when you literally rip the clothes of my body. I love it when you do that."
"Miss Waldorf." Arthur interrupts I blush. I totally forgot Arthur was here. I was too caught up in the playful banter of our conversation, that I didn't bother to close the partition between us: the man was free to listen to our conversation. "We will be there in five." he continues. He may not know it, but he just saved my ass, because I had no idea how to talk myself out of the words that just left my mouth. "I have to go."
"Why?"
"Because I have to get myself ready. Since the saleslady was able to plant ridiculous high expectations in your head."
"They don't need to plant those."
"Don't they."
"I'm Chuck Bass. I breath high expectations" and with that I hung up the phone, checking my make-up for flaws that aren't there and smoothing out my wrinkle free dress like a maniac. What's wrong with me? I'm nervous as hell. My insides feel as if I'm going on a date. All of a sudden I'm not so sure about my choice of dress, shoes and stockings. Asking Arthur to turn around is on the tip of my tongue as the car comes to a stop in front of the house, correction, manor. So many questions run though my head and I come to the conclusion that it is by far easier to just have sex.
He opens the door and I step out after I've put on my coat. The house is fabulous and appears to be a small replica of the famous Vanderbilt Marble house and now that it is surrounded by a few inches of snow. It looks like it came directly out of a fairytale book. The steps and terrace to the entrance are cleared of all the snow, that's left in small mountains of it on each side. On each side of the double doors stands a broad-shouldered guy in a black suit, complete with an ear set each, security obviously, and probably no necessity with all the high profile people gathered here tonight. Both men nod when I reach the last step and the one on the right asks me for my key, while the other one eyes me up and down.
Oh yes, key. I open my clutch and take out the black and gold chip. It is designed with great extravaganza. The black parts are just as perfectly polished and shiny as the golden ones. I'm pretty sure it's real leaf gold and the larger part of the chip is covered in it. Vanderbilt engraved in black on both sides in the center. I hand the man the chip and he makes it disappear into an electronic device. To my surprise he hands it back with the words: "Welcome Mrs. Waldorf" I try to mask my surprise, but the man's kind smile tells me I was rather unsuccessful.
"Mr. Bass is awaiting you inside."
"Thank you, gentlemen." I smile kindly as the other one opens the double doors for me.
The grandeur of the entrance is overwhelming. And utterly stunning as well. The double and marble - this would not be a replica if there was no marble involved - staircase stands out in all of it's shiny and full glory. It's breathtakingly beautiful. In the wall on the left and the right there is a double door on each side, I assume leading into a dining room or salon that breaths just as much grandeur as the entrance does. Underneath the double marble staircase there is another double door, even though it's heavy wood, it's unable to block out the joyful laughter of those who are winning, the shameful curses of those who are losing a fortune and the smell of cigars the gentlemen are smoking. A doorman on each side open a door each and they grand me an incredible view over the ballroom that lies down a few steps. On the top of the small stairs I look around the room. His amber eyes lock with mine almost immediately. He is seated at the table in the back of the room. He keeps his eyes locked on mine as I slowly descend off the steps. The small smirk playing on his lips. A hint of him being pleased with what he sees? I hope so anyway. Our eyes stay locked as I further approach his table. His opponent drum their fingers on the table, impatiently awaiting his next move. When nothing happens, they look around the room, trying to figure out who caught his attention. Nate is the first one to follow his line of sight and his eyes land on me. After he has raked his eyes over my body, he turns around, making a comment toward Chuck perhaps, because he looks like he is about to kill Nate five seconds later. Their game continues while I further approach the table. The dealer shakes up the stack of cards, before he deals them each another pair, including himself. A waiter offers me a glass of Champaign, that I accept. But I would prefer something - let's say - a bit more sharper. I observe their game for a while before I continue my approach. I catch him glancing my way quite a few times.
"The saleslady did not exaggerate. You look ravishing." He whispers into my ear as he pulls me closer. "You are supposed to distract them, not me." He continues. All of his competitors were looking at me, but he didn't notice. Right now they are staring at the both of us with wonder and suspicion. I can imagine the million questions running through their minds.
"Bass." The man on his left asks his attention. "Don't be rude now, introduce the lovely lady." The dirty blond guy comments while his eyes rake over my body.
"My apologies, gentlemen." Chuck tears his eyes away from mine. "Blair, meet Mister Oliver Walker." He point to the dirty blond gentlemen on his left. "And Mr. Chris Grey."
"Is Chris short for Christian?" I wonder. The gentlemen around the table laugh.
"I'm sad to disappoint a beautiful maiden like yourself, but no." Mister Grey flirts. I feel Chuck tense up. "I wouldn't mind building you a red room, if that's what you want."
"I'm afraid to say: you're too late. Mr. Bass here already started constructions."
"Well isn't he a lucky bastard." Mr. Grey eyes Chuck with wonder and surprise.
"You already know, Nathaniel." Chuck continues with the introductions. "Next to him sits Mr. Troy Davis."
"Gentlemen, may I introduce Miss. Blair Waldorf."
"Gentlemen, it was a pleasure to meet you all." I say with a polite nod of my head while I place my hand on his shoulder. "I'll leave you to your game now."
"Oh, Mr. Bass, you are supposed to play fair." I counter in a whisper before I start to walk off. He catches my hand just as I have run out of shoulder for it to linger on. I look at him and he raises his eyebrows with genuine surprise. He holds my hand in place on his shoulder, so I lean down when I speak. "I know you are making them believe you are bluffing, while I am pretty sure you have a high hand." I whisper in his ear. He hides his guilty smile in a laugh.
"Do I?" He wonders, smirk firm in place. He's making me doubt my words. I eye him with suspicion, while I calculate my next move.
"May I?" I wonder.
He gestures that I am free to do as I please. "Chuck, what are you doing?" I hear Nate on his right whisper at him. Chuck shushes him with a simple gesture of his hand. "Let her." He answers. He's too smug, too confident. I eye the cards on the table. There's a 5 and a 7 of hearts, a 10, a queen and a 9 of spades.
"All in..." I say as I push all of his chips in the middle of the table.
"Are you insane?" Nate asks me.
"No."
"I can no believe this." Nate throws his hands in the air rather dramatically. Never figured he would be the drama king-type.
"Kiss your chips goodbye, Bass." Mr. Walker on his left says as he pushes his own chips forward. "All in."
"Me too." Mister Grey adds. "This is the most fun we've had in weeks."
"I agree." Mister Davis pitches in. "You should bring her along more often." He comments towards Chuck.
"Perhaps I should." Chuck smirks.
All eyes are on Nate now. They are all highly anticipating his next move. "I'll pass."
"Wuss." Mr. Walker comments.
"Call me all the names you want, but I'm not going to be left chip less after this round."
"The one to be chip less will be him." Mister Grey counters as he points at Chuck, who simply grins.
"Show your true colors, Bass."
"I'll let Miss Waldorf here do the honors." Chuck muses, his eyes rake over my body as he says my name, making my temp rise and freeze at the same time.
"With pleasure." I smirk. "Steady yourselves gentlemen." I say before I reveal his Jack and King of spades. Re-arranging the cards so they line up perfectly: K – Q – J – 10 – 9 Leaving him with a Straight Flush and the highest hand possible in this game.
"How?" Mr. Grey and Mr. Walters shout out, while Nate bursts out laughing. Meanwhile I leave the table. My job is done. Not that I didn't do much. Chuck did all the work.
"Did you use her to cheat?" I hear Mr. Davis wonder.
"Gentlemen, I believe this game is over." I watch Chuck take a sip of his tumbler as he leans back, throwing a look my way. "But perhaps a rematch?" In the mean time the card dealer has started to gather all of Chuck's chips. "Put it in my tab. I'm going to stretch my legs for a moment."
I'm already a few feet away as he catches up: "thank you gorgeous" He whispers into my ear. "You played them well."
"I did. Didn't I." I smile proudly. I see he's still holding onto that glass of scotch.
"May I?" I wonder, gesturing to the glass.
"Of course." He says, handing it to me, before we step outside onto the terrace. Chuck closes the double doors behind us, surrounding us in complete silence. The air is chilly. I shiver and he hands me his jacket.
"Did you see the look on their faces." I laugh. "They never saw that one coming."
"You took them by surprise." He says while he watches me take a sip of his scotch. "I was unaware of your knowledge of the cards, Miss Waldorf." I accept his compliment with a small smile while I try to hand him his glass back. He rejects it with a silent gesture.
"There are other thing you have no knowledge about." I reply in a smug manner while I lean against the railing of the balcony.
"Enlighten me." His words fill the air with a sexual tension as we heat up our surroundings. Our chemistry is literally making sparks fly and we are getting closer to lighting up the sky with each step he comes closer. I love that predatorily sway in his step.
"Later perhaps." I respond playfully, before I wonder: "What's my reward?"
"Me." He muses.
One day when the light is glowing
I'll be in my castle golden
But until the gates are open
I just wanna feel this moment
We make our way back inside as other couples figured out the perks of the balconies and interrupted us. Not that I am thinking of him and me as a couple, it's merely a figure of speech, unfortunately. I hope no-one will notice my swollen and red lipstick free lips. Once inside he pulls me in the opposite direction of the tables, through the double doors that shield this party form the outside world. Once in the hallway I push him against the cold marble wall. I figured it would be better to beat him to it, then to yelp when my naked skin comes in contact with them instead. He tastes of scotch and cigars, just the way I like. A groan / moan leaves his lips, making me continue my heated ministrations against his lips. I capture his bottom lip with my teeth and tug at it, only to be able to sooth the heated skin afterwards with gentle kisses. What in the world was I thinking, asking him not to kiss me. I move my lips to the spot he always pick on my neck. It doesn't take long until I figure out what he prefers done. I receive a throatily and cursed "God…" wrapped in a slight moan for my hard work.
I smirk proudly and throw his earlier comment back at him: "Not God. Just me…"
His eyes fly open. They are blazing when they meet mine. "What did you say?"
I know I provoked him. It was my intention to do so and I'm about to poke around in the lion's den some more: "No." I start repeating. "Not. God. Just. Me." I say as I prep butterfly kisses against his jaw.
Without a word he slips out of my hold, grasps my wrist and pulls me along as he starts marching away. I'm in trouble. I just wonder in what kind. We make our way for the left side of the double stairs. "Chuck. Not so fast." I beg, almost stumbling over in my very high, honestly unnatural and too high heels. He ignores my request and pulls me up the stairs. Not nearly ten steps up, a guard catches up with us. "Sir. I'm going to have to ask you to go back down and return to the party. This area is off limits to the guests." The man says as he takes a stand in front of us.
"I'm no guest." Chuck answers and sidesteps the guard, continuing to climb the stairs, still dragging me in tow.
"Sir." The man takes a hold of his Armani jacket.
"Let go." Chuck growls before he frees himself out of the guards grasp, rather roughly. "Do you know who I am…"
"Mister Bass!" Another guard comes running up the stairs. "My sincerest apologies, Sir.
"Ryan, who is this moron?" Chuck barks at the second guard.
"Brad is new to job, Sir." Ryan starts to explain. "It's his second day on the job. Forgive him, Sir. He has no idea who you are, Sir."
"At least he's doing what he's paid for." Chuck comments.
"I am truly sorry, Mr. Bass. I was handling a matter of inappropriate behavior outside."
"Don't let it happen twice."
"Absolutely not, Sir." Ryan responds. "My sincerest apologies, Sir." Brad adds.
We continue to climb the steps. "Have a pleasant evening, Mr. and Mrs. Bass." I hear Brad call after us. I look back and see how Ryan's eyes grow wide. I close my eyes while my cheeks start to burn a cherry red. I see Chuck turn around once more, eyeing the young and unlucky young man with a deathly stare and yet a little smirk. Brad pales instantly and starts to stutter and mumble something that sounds like an apology: "Oh, Sir. I…" "I am truly…" "I am so sorr…"
Chuck interrupts Brad, not even granting him another look, as he orders Ryan to "teach the boy".
"Yes, sir. I will, Sir." Ryan responds with a nod and a slight bow.
"Come." I muse while I pull him further up the stairs. I don't want something like this ruining his plans. I'm pretty sure they involve my dress hitting the floor and him shirtless. The latter is actually my plan, but who cares right? I smirk at the thought and wonder what the look on his face will be at the sight of my deep purple la perla's. A little bird in the store told me he has a certain admiration for the color. It's a good thing I charged it on my own credit card.
"Good evening, Sir." Ryan finishes "Good evening Miss."
Time is money, the only difference is I own it
Like a stopwatch, let's stop time and enjoy this moment
Author's Note:
I can not believe Siren's Call received it's hundred reviews already.
It feels just as if I started writing it yesterday!
Anyhow, I am so grateful for each and every one that I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you.
This story is far from over and I have outlined the next 4 chapters already, so you can be expecting them soon. I try to get one chapter out each month, but please remember I am a fulltime working mother of a two-and-a-half-year old, with a husband that demands my attention from time to time. So don't shoot me if one chapter takes more time to write than the other. L once told me: "You can't rush greatness..."
A thank you to :
Rf, hipskip 11, Dimples84, Guest 1, Salbaby
Sunshineboogie, BBCBPP130, Stella.1886, pty
CarolinaGirl313, olimgossip, Guest 2, Marialena,
Pia21, Cat8000, Guest 3, nameless
For reviewing 'Stay'!