Never Be Free Chapter Five
Title: Never Be Free
Author: Noirreigne
Pairing: Blair/Chuck & Blair/OC
Rating: R for language and smut.
Spoilers: Through 2x17
Summary: Except you enthrall me, never shall be free. Future Fic.
Previous Chapters
She stirred her tea slowly, drops of forbidden whole fat milk swirling, the color mellowing from dark to honey brown. The silver teaspoon clinked and scraped the delicate bone china five strokes clockwise and five counter. Back in New York, tea was something she and Serena as children used as an excuse to dress up in their mother’s finest gowns and play hostess to dolls and stuffed toys. Here it was a national institution, something she adopted soon after marriage to complete the transformation from Blair Waldorf to Lady Errol. What was once an affectation was now a necessity. Laying the teaspoon carefully on the saucer, she frowned at the plate of food specially prepared for her. Stomach churning, she stared at the miniature egg white, mushroom and tomato omelet with golden toast points and her usual parfait of fruit and yogurt. Warned by the sound of Cedric’s soft leather shoes shuffling against the aged hardwood floors, she hastily picked up her fork.
Sunlight filtered through the conservatory’s clear and stained panes of glass, nourishing the hothouse plants and exotic blooms that filled the room. Stopping in the doorway he grinned in delight at the unexpected surprise of his wife joining him for the morning meal. Backlit with the early morning sun, emerging from nature’s magnificent palette, she resembled one of the Madonna painting’s he saw during his visit to Rome years ago. He gazed appreciatively at her, musing on her uncanny talent to consistently choose the perfect backdrop to showcase her loveliness, taking his breath away.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” he said, his eyes twinkling with happiness. “I didn’t expect to see you until this evening. “ Sliding smoothly into the wicker backed chair he looked approvingly at the plate of food before her.
She leaned towards him across the table, eyes serious. “Yes, well…” she fumbled, the carefully rehearsed words catching in the throat. Taking a deep breath she changed direction. “Would you like me to pour some tea?” she offered sweetly.
He shook his head, leaning back into his chair, relaxing and soaking up the sun’s healing rays. “Not yet. I’ll wait until my eggs and kippers are here.”
She wrinkled her nose in disgust, gripping her fork tightly, the thought of the oily smoked fish making her sick. “That is one English culinary delight I will never understand.”
“Lots of protein, my dear. Exactly what the doctor ordered,” he said mischievously.
She looked at him cynically. “Don’t use the poor doctor to justify your obsession with that hideous dish.”
He chuckled, the lines around his eyes creasing in amusement. “How is the new menu working out?”
She looked down dourly at the pristine untouched plate of food before her. “Wonderfully,” she said forcing enthusiasm into her tone. With careful deliberation she cut her omelet into perfectly proportioned small bites. With each bite forced down she focused on the nutritional benefits and not the fat and calories. Under Cedric’s pointed surveillance she managed to consume half her meal before her stomach started to roll and lurch. A servant arriving with a tray of food gave her the distraction she needed. Laying her fork aside on the starched linen she took a sip of tea, relaxing as the heated liquid warmed her throat, soothing her stomach. She waited until his meal was laid out and the servant had departed before speaking. “I thought I would head up to London with you today.”
About to cut into the juicy thick yolks of his eggs he looked up sharply. “Blair, I told you I don’t want you there. It’s enough you have to deal with the aftermath. I don’t need you there to hold my hand.”
“I know,” she said soothingly. “I understand better than anyone your wish for privacy. I just thought you might enjoy some company.”
“You don’t have to do that. You’ve been so tired lately you should stay and rest.”
“Are you saying you don’t want my company?” She asked, a faint tremor in her voice, her lips trembling. Ashamed at her deceptions she blinked, hiding her eyes, the fringe of her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.
“No. That’s not it at all,” he said miserably. Upset at his insensitivity he rose, rushing to assure her. He took her cold hand in his, rubbing the pad of his thumb along her wedding band. “I don’t want to be any more of a burden to you then I already am.” Head bowed, he sighed heavily. “I’m afraid you got the worse end of the bargain when you agreed to marry me.”
She inhaled sharply, guilt gnawing at her. “You have never been a burden,” she said with quiet firmness. Twining her fingers between his, she gazed into his eyes, shedding the superficial , she spoke to his soul “Don’t ever think that. I’m the one who ended up with a treasure. You saw the real me: a scared, knocked up , Yale reject who ran away from home in shame and you married her anyway. I don’t know anyone else who would do that.” Swallowing hard she bit back the tears misting in her eyes. “I always knew the cancer might come back. I just thought we would have more time.”
“Marrying you was the best decision I’ve ever made,” he said thickly. Clearing his throat he regained his composure, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze before releasing them. With a deliberately casual movement he returned to his seat and began attacking his now cooled eggs. “The chemotherapy should take several hours.” Taking a bite of the kipper and egg concoction he smiled in satisfaction. “What were you planning? I was going to have the driver wait at the clinic, but I can have him chauffeur you around instead.”
She avoided his eyes, pushing her plate away. “That won’t be necessary. I’m just going to do some shopping. It will be much easier to take a taxi. Just let me know when you’re done,” she said lightly, the graveness of the previous moment forced aside. Rising, she folded her napkin, tossing it on the table. “What time are we leaving?”
He looked up from his plate. “Ten thirty. My appointment is shortly before noon. “
She nodded, forcing nausea down as she straightened her shoulders. “I’ll be ready.” With long purposeful strides she left him to ruminate on this sudden change of events.
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Entering the Royal Suite at the Lanesborough Hotel at exactly one o’clock, Blair stood in awe of the stage that was set before her. The aroma of hundreds of purple and white hydrangeas wafted in the air, tantalizing her senses. While the sun was garish, glaring outside within the light was dim, accented with flickering candles. The hand carved regency furniture was graced with piles of satin pillows that perfectly complimented the carelessly tossed ones peeking out from the massive four poster bed. Mouth suddenly dry she swallowed as she eyed the gloriously draped monstrosity that looked like it came directly from a glamorous thirties Hollywood movie or the cover of a trashy bodice ripper romance. Halting the erotic images that began playing in her head she forced her gaze on the devil before her.
“What is this? Page 109 from the Chuck Bass Playbook on seduction?” She scoffed, her nervousness hidden behind mocking bravado.
He blinked slowly, his lips slowing curving in a smile of pleasure at her fluster. He understood better than anyone how necessary it was to conceal weakness within the thrust and parry of language.
“Page 132 actually,” he murmured. Rising languorously from the settee he turned his back to her, filling two flutes with chilled champagne.
Annoyed at his lack of reaction, a small huff of air escaped her lips. “The pimped out borderline bordello setting might work on your usual taste deficient conquests−“ she paused, sweeping the room frantically with her arms, “But…I’m not having sex with you,” she exclaimed shrilly.
“Of course not,” he said dryly, holding out a glass of champagne.
“It’s barely one o’clock,” she said, aghast even as her mouth became dry and parched contemplating the temptation held aloft.
He chuckled, the familiar sound reminding her of their scheming days back in the Upper East Side before Nate had thrown away her future in Serena’s arms. “Since when did that ever stop you?”
She shook her head, her tantalizing curls teasing her bare neck and collarbone that rose sinfully from the low cut designer blouse. “You just want to get me drunk so you can have your way with me,” she accused, shoving away the impulse to stare at that ridiculous bed.
“I don’t have to get you drunk for that,” he said, smirking slyly.
Memories of what happened only six weeks earlier came rushing back to taunt her. Cheeks hot, she couldn’t help but remember how he had forced her to admit she wanted him. Reaching for the alcohol her fingers slid over his, embers still glowing from a fire that was never doused sparked to life. Gripping the glass, adrenaline and fear coursing through her, she deliberately calculated the number of steps she could put between them without broadcasting her unease. Amusement flared in Chuck’s eyes . Enjoying her discomfort, Chuck grinned smugly.
Blair gazed longingly at the champagne. Refusing to take the risk, she set it with a clank on the nearest decorative table. “What do you want?” she asked haughtily, determined to gain the upper hand.
“Everything,” he rasped, soft and deadly.
She pretended she didn’t understand even as the blood pumped furiously through her veins and her pulse beat a wild rhythm in her ears. She would not give into this. She thought of Cedric, who laid his world at her feet, taking only what she could willingly give. She pictured him, his body being slowly poisoned at the very moment, innocent of her deceit.
“You have to be more specific,” she said archly, hoping he would play along, drop this insanity.
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” he drawled, his tone amused but steely with determination. He advanced towards her, sinuously shifting closer, defining seduction with every hard moving line in his body. She squeezed her eyes shut, frantically searching for a new tactic, a way to deflect this avenue of conversation that could not be allowed to continue. Not trusting herself, she retreated a few steps, bitterly acknowledging the slight upper hand his nearness gave him. In order to leave this room with her current life intact she would need to accept her weakness to his touch, his smell, his very presence and not let her pride get in the way.
“Do you have any idea how pathetic you are?” She narrowed her eyes, looking down her nose at him in contempt. “Do the gossips back in the Upper East Side know that Chuck Bass, playboy extraordinaire, now resorts to blackmail to get laid? Did all the girls back home finally get wise to your sleazy moves?” She asked, smiling with pitying condescension.
He regarded her in amusement, recognizing the desperation contained within her insults. She was faltering, her game descending to amateurish levels. She glared at him, her mouth tightening in frustration at his indifference to her machinations. Infuriated, she searched for a new tactic. Chuck made a valiant effort not to laugh at the picture she made, all spikes and bristles. After a while he gave up. A rare chuckle low and throaty erupted from his chest.
“Did you really think it would be that easy? A few insults and I would head back to America with my tail between my legs?”
Wide-eyed a glimmer of uncertainty crossed her face, vanishing almost as soon as it appeared. If he blinked he would have missed it, but the evidence was there and Chuck was confident the end was in sight.
In distress she noted the sudden tensing of his muscles; with predatory grace he moved closer. With each step forward she stepped back, withdrawing until her back hit the wall. He effectively blocked her, his hands resting on either side of her. She pressed into the hard surface, trying to avoid all contact. Though he stood close enough he only needed to lean in to kiss her, he kept a few inches between them. Uncharacteristically patient he waited for her to capitulate, surrender. Her eyes fluttered, remembering his taste, the feel of his skin under her fingertips, the way his eyes devoured her like she was the answer to his prayers, his personal salvation. It had to stop; whatever was between them couldn’t be acted on. She had responsibilities, debts she owed and she could not and would not risk losing everything she had worked so hard for. She feared the fire he ignited within her would incinerate her, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. She swallowed hard and bit back tears. “What will it take to make you stop? Make you go away?”
Triumphant at this turn of events he couldn’t help the slight tinge of sadness that colored his smile at her suffering. Merciful, he didn’t even bother to shade the truth. He just leaned in closer, narrowing the space between them to mere inches. Tiny tremors tingled along her arms and down her back as his breath stroked her cheek and ruffled the strands of hair framing her face.
“Nothing,” he whispered softly in her ear.
He reached out to cup her face, his thumb caressing the curve of her cheekbone, forcing her to look only at him. His eyes smoldered with passion and promise.
“I won’t ever stop. Not until you’re in my bed, wearing my ring.”
The words were ominous, a death knell to the future she had plotted and risked everything for. Her heart thumping wildly in her chest froze in fear. Cold swept over her, turning her skin to ice. She shivered, her breath caught in her throat. Comforting her in the only way he knew how, his mouth moved in to claim hers. With a jerk she slammed her eyes shut, bracing for a kiss that devoured. Instead he pressed his lips to hers lightly, reverently. His tongue delicately traced the outline of her lips, attempting to coax them apart, his kiss unexpectedly gentle and sweet brought tears to her eyes. Flooded with the desire to deepen the kiss, sink against him, lose herself to everything but the feel of his mouth she let down her guard and let him in.
With a sigh of defeat she kissed him back, their tongues crashing into each other, twining and angling. In that moment she gave herself to him, blood pounding in her brain, heart leaping and knees trembling. He pulled her roughly, almost violently to him, her breasts pushed against the hardness of his chest. His body imprisoned hers in a web of throbbing, mind numbing arousal, stilling all thoughts. His hands explored the soft lines of her back, her waist and her hips. He pushed aside the collar of her blouse, exploring the ridge of her collarbone, his finger moving over her heated skin. Shame swept over her as she realized she was enjoying , reveling in her loss of control. It wasn’t until she felt him pluck at the tiny pearl buttons of her blouse that she realized the extent to which she was succumbing to him.
She froze, coming to her senses abruptly. Squirming in his embrace, her arms forced their way between. Palms pressed against the planes of his hard chest she could feel the thumping vibrations of his heart. Heart to heart with only her hands between them she could feel their chests beating in unison. Her fingers itched to clutch and tear at his shirt, remove the barriers between them, skin to skin, heart to heart. At war with herself, she made the only choice she could. Tensing her hands, she pushed him away. He resisted her futile efforts like a cat swatting a fly, pulling her even tighter to him, his kisses becoming forceful and demanding. In protest she attempted to pull her head away from his. He retaliated; his lips became more brutal, taking what he wanted without thought or consideration.
Hardening her heart she played the only card left. Feigning surrender she softened under the passionate onslaught. Pressing forward she met his kiss with equal fervor, mating her tongue to his. She knew this round was hers when with a shudder he yielded to her. Playfully she nibbled his lower lip, sucking it sensuously before she struck. Taking advantage she bit down while simultaneously kicking him hard in the shin. What the moves lacked in permanent damage they made up for in the element of surprise. Startled, he stumbled, releasing her, touching his lip gingerly. Using the opportunity created she scurried away from him. Though the distance was mere feet it might as well have been oceans.
“That will never happen. I will never be yours,” she spat, her chest heaving. Color stained her cheeks and her perfectly coifed curls now haloed her face wildly. “Go home Chuck.”
He drew a ragged breath, threading his fingers through his hair angrily. His eyes bore into her, baring his soul, ripping her to shreds. In his gaze, love, possession and lust were all intertwined. To him there was no difference and it terrified her.
“Marry me,” he said huskily. Words that she once dreamed of hearing from him, the culmination of her fairytale and her happy ever after, were now perverted into something sinister.
She stared at him in disbelief, rolling her eyes. “Are you insane?” She held her ring finger aloft, the symbol a reminder to them both. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m already taken.”
He didn’t spare a glance at her hand, dismissing her theatrics. His hypnotic eyes never left hers. “That means nothing. This isn’t the dark ages, Blair. It no longer takes an act of parliament to get a divorce.”
She lifted her chin defiantly. “I would never divorce Ceddie,” she said coldly.
He gritted his teeth, enraged with jealousy. His biggest weakness, the one emotion he’d never mastered and the one that was irrevocably tied to her.
“What a fitting moniker for a remnant of a family that’s inbred itself almost out of existence,“ he said spitefully.
“That’s rich coming from someone who insists on being known by the only given name in the English language that rhymes with ‘fuck’ ,“ she taunted, smiling viciously
He shook his head benignly, as if dealing with a temperamental child. “What would dear Ceddie think if he heard such vulgarities spilling from the lips of his perfect wife? Would it expose your fraud, the virtuous uptight ideal of womanhood you’ve created for yourself? “
He peered at her quizzically, tapping his chin with his finger in exaggerated contemplation. One corner of his mouth twisted upward, mocking. “Or is that part of your bargain with him? What gets him off. Pristine and perfect on the exterior but behind closed doors he wants you to be nasty, dominate him like a little bitch. No wonder I only have to look at you to get you hot. “
Her smile vanished, wiped away in anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. “
“I think I do. I can always tell when a woman has been well fucked. She struts with confidence, glows with contentment, a secret smile hovers on her lips.” He eyed her up and down with appraising eyes. “Your husband isn’t taken proper care of you,” he drawled.
Her expression was thunderous. “That is none of your business,” she said, her voice tense and clipped.
His harsh feature softened in pleasure, his attack successful. Finding the hidden vulnerability he hammered at it. “Maybe not, but it becomes mine when you force your way into my life, spreading your legs faster than Serena after a few shots of tequila.”
She shot him a hateful look that would have left anyone who wasn’t Chuck Bass running for cover. “I love Cedric,” she declared heatedly, meeting his eyes. She raised her voice, her speech slowing, each word enunciated carefully like he was a half-wit. “I know it’s hard for you to comprehend, but there is more to marriage then sex.”
“Maybe for some, but not you Blair.” His gaze roved over her body, bold and seductive. Shivers of desire ran through her, her response to him instant and primal. “I know the insatiable wanton hidden in your ice queen veneer. This is not the life for you,” he said his velvet voice igniting a burning fever in her blood that only he could cure.
She swallowed hard and in his eyes she saw her demise. The loss of herself with each bruising kiss, every heated touch until she craved nothing but him. There must be something warped inside her, broken, that even now living her fairytale she still wanted him. “You know nothing about me or what I want,” she said in a suffocated whisper.
Sensing how close she was to the edge he pushed her further, hoping she would fall. “Did Serena tell you I stopped into in to see her a few weeks ago?”
She inhaled sharply, dread clawing at her heart. “She mentioned it,” she said cautiously, her face a blank canvas. In distraction her fingers systematically began smoothing the pleats in her skirt, rhythmically folding each sharp line one after another. Her behavior, a red flag, told him what he wanted to know. There was more to this then he ever imagined.
“She couldn’t stop talking about you,” he said slyly, baiting her.
“Really.” Noting her descent into compulsive behavior she stilled her hands, shoving them forcefully to her sides.
“She was very worried about you and your health. Is there anything I need to know?” His voice was coated with insincerity, his worry hidden tightly within. He was grasping at straws, rattling her in hopes that she would slip a careless word, a look or a gesture, anything that he could use against her. Even with the information forced from Blair the picture was no clearer then it had been weeks before in New York. He knew Blair and he could read Serena like a woman with daddy issues and they were both hiding something from him, something that a fortune spent on private detectives couldn’t uncover. If Blair was ever going to be his, this was the ammunition he needed.
“No. Serena clearly has too much time on her hands. I’ll talk to her.” she said curtly, ending all further conversation.
He’d struck a dead end, but it wasn’t over. “I want you, Blair. I’ve always wanted you. There’s never been anyone else. I know you feel the same even if you won’t admit it. I made a mistake years ago and I’m done paying for it. We can have divorce papers drawn up in hours. Without a need for a financial settlement , since I have more than enough, you will be free to marry in weeks. You can have your old life in New York back, see Serena every day, whatever makes you happy. You can have the wedding you always fantasized about.” He paused, gauging her reaction. There was nothing. She stood frozen, uncharacteristically silent.
He sighed, hardening his heart. “Or we can do this the hard way. I can chase you; take it all away piece by piece. Cedric, your reputation, everything until all you have left is me. I will find out what you’re trying so desperately to hide. There will be no place to hide, no one you can go to and nothing will exist for you but me. Make it easy for both of us and stop pretending that what we have isn’t forever. You know me Blair, I fight dirty and I always win.” The air crackled around them with desire, hate and love. Melded together there was no telling where one began and the other ended.
“Go ahead do your worst. This is one game you will never win.”
“Then it’s war?” He asked his voice harsh, ruthless.
She nodded grimly. Head held high, shoulders squared she strode to the door.
Their lives reduced to a game of chess, he took the first move. “I can’t wait to tell Cedric all about our night together in Paris. I promise not to spare any of the juicy details. With any luck it’ll get him stiff enough he’ll try to actually bed you.”
She turned around, looking at him in scorn. “This isn’t high school, Chuck. He always knew. Try again.”
Sacrificing a pawn she won this round, leaving a bomb in her wake.
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A/N: All comments positive or negative are loved.
Author: Noirreigne
Pairing: Blair/Chuck & Blair/OC
Rating: R for language and smut.
Spoilers: Through 2x17
Summary: Except you enthrall me, never shall be free. Future Fic.
Previous Chapters
She stirred her tea slowly, drops of forbidden whole fat milk swirling, the color mellowing from dark to honey brown. The silver teaspoon clinked and scraped the delicate bone china five strokes clockwise and five counter. Back in New York, tea was something she and Serena as children used as an excuse to dress up in their mother’s finest gowns and play hostess to dolls and stuffed toys. Here it was a national institution, something she adopted soon after marriage to complete the transformation from Blair Waldorf to Lady Errol. What was once an affectation was now a necessity. Laying the teaspoon carefully on the saucer, she frowned at the plate of food specially prepared for her. Stomach churning, she stared at the miniature egg white, mushroom and tomato omelet with golden toast points and her usual parfait of fruit and yogurt. Warned by the sound of Cedric’s soft leather shoes shuffling against the aged hardwood floors, she hastily picked up her fork.
Sunlight filtered through the conservatory’s clear and stained panes of glass, nourishing the hothouse plants and exotic blooms that filled the room. Stopping in the doorway he grinned in delight at the unexpected surprise of his wife joining him for the morning meal. Backlit with the early morning sun, emerging from nature’s magnificent palette, she resembled one of the Madonna painting’s he saw during his visit to Rome years ago. He gazed appreciatively at her, musing on her uncanny talent to consistently choose the perfect backdrop to showcase her loveliness, taking his breath away.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” he said, his eyes twinkling with happiness. “I didn’t expect to see you until this evening. “ Sliding smoothly into the wicker backed chair he looked approvingly at the plate of food before her.
She leaned towards him across the table, eyes serious. “Yes, well…” she fumbled, the carefully rehearsed words catching in the throat. Taking a deep breath she changed direction. “Would you like me to pour some tea?” she offered sweetly.
He shook his head, leaning back into his chair, relaxing and soaking up the sun’s healing rays. “Not yet. I’ll wait until my eggs and kippers are here.”
She wrinkled her nose in disgust, gripping her fork tightly, the thought of the oily smoked fish making her sick. “That is one English culinary delight I will never understand.”
“Lots of protein, my dear. Exactly what the doctor ordered,” he said mischievously.
She looked at him cynically. “Don’t use the poor doctor to justify your obsession with that hideous dish.”
He chuckled, the lines around his eyes creasing in amusement. “How is the new menu working out?”
She looked down dourly at the pristine untouched plate of food before her. “Wonderfully,” she said forcing enthusiasm into her tone. With careful deliberation she cut her omelet into perfectly proportioned small bites. With each bite forced down she focused on the nutritional benefits and not the fat and calories. Under Cedric’s pointed surveillance she managed to consume half her meal before her stomach started to roll and lurch. A servant arriving with a tray of food gave her the distraction she needed. Laying her fork aside on the starched linen she took a sip of tea, relaxing as the heated liquid warmed her throat, soothing her stomach. She waited until his meal was laid out and the servant had departed before speaking. “I thought I would head up to London with you today.”
About to cut into the juicy thick yolks of his eggs he looked up sharply. “Blair, I told you I don’t want you there. It’s enough you have to deal with the aftermath. I don’t need you there to hold my hand.”
“I know,” she said soothingly. “I understand better than anyone your wish for privacy. I just thought you might enjoy some company.”
“You don’t have to do that. You’ve been so tired lately you should stay and rest.”
“Are you saying you don’t want my company?” She asked, a faint tremor in her voice, her lips trembling. Ashamed at her deceptions she blinked, hiding her eyes, the fringe of her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.
“No. That’s not it at all,” he said miserably. Upset at his insensitivity he rose, rushing to assure her. He took her cold hand in his, rubbing the pad of his thumb along her wedding band. “I don’t want to be any more of a burden to you then I already am.” Head bowed, he sighed heavily. “I’m afraid you got the worse end of the bargain when you agreed to marry me.”
She inhaled sharply, guilt gnawing at her. “You have never been a burden,” she said with quiet firmness. Twining her fingers between his, she gazed into his eyes, shedding the superficial , she spoke to his soul “Don’t ever think that. I’m the one who ended up with a treasure. You saw the real me: a scared, knocked up , Yale reject who ran away from home in shame and you married her anyway. I don’t know anyone else who would do that.” Swallowing hard she bit back the tears misting in her eyes. “I always knew the cancer might come back. I just thought we would have more time.”
“Marrying you was the best decision I’ve ever made,” he said thickly. Clearing his throat he regained his composure, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze before releasing them. With a deliberately casual movement he returned to his seat and began attacking his now cooled eggs. “The chemotherapy should take several hours.” Taking a bite of the kipper and egg concoction he smiled in satisfaction. “What were you planning? I was going to have the driver wait at the clinic, but I can have him chauffeur you around instead.”
She avoided his eyes, pushing her plate away. “That won’t be necessary. I’m just going to do some shopping. It will be much easier to take a taxi. Just let me know when you’re done,” she said lightly, the graveness of the previous moment forced aside. Rising, she folded her napkin, tossing it on the table. “What time are we leaving?”
He looked up from his plate. “Ten thirty. My appointment is shortly before noon. “
She nodded, forcing nausea down as she straightened her shoulders. “I’ll be ready.” With long purposeful strides she left him to ruminate on this sudden change of events.
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Entering the Royal Suite at the Lanesborough Hotel at exactly one o’clock, Blair stood in awe of the stage that was set before her. The aroma of hundreds of purple and white hydrangeas wafted in the air, tantalizing her senses. While the sun was garish, glaring outside within the light was dim, accented with flickering candles. The hand carved regency furniture was graced with piles of satin pillows that perfectly complimented the carelessly tossed ones peeking out from the massive four poster bed. Mouth suddenly dry she swallowed as she eyed the gloriously draped monstrosity that looked like it came directly from a glamorous thirties Hollywood movie or the cover of a trashy bodice ripper romance. Halting the erotic images that began playing in her head she forced her gaze on the devil before her.
“What is this? Page 109 from the Chuck Bass Playbook on seduction?” She scoffed, her nervousness hidden behind mocking bravado.
He blinked slowly, his lips slowing curving in a smile of pleasure at her fluster. He understood better than anyone how necessary it was to conceal weakness within the thrust and parry of language.
“Page 132 actually,” he murmured. Rising languorously from the settee he turned his back to her, filling two flutes with chilled champagne.
Annoyed at his lack of reaction, a small huff of air escaped her lips. “The pimped out borderline bordello setting might work on your usual taste deficient conquests−“ she paused, sweeping the room frantically with her arms, “But…I’m not having sex with you,” she exclaimed shrilly.
“Of course not,” he said dryly, holding out a glass of champagne.
“It’s barely one o’clock,” she said, aghast even as her mouth became dry and parched contemplating the temptation held aloft.
He chuckled, the familiar sound reminding her of their scheming days back in the Upper East Side before Nate had thrown away her future in Serena’s arms. “Since when did that ever stop you?”
She shook her head, her tantalizing curls teasing her bare neck and collarbone that rose sinfully from the low cut designer blouse. “You just want to get me drunk so you can have your way with me,” she accused, shoving away the impulse to stare at that ridiculous bed.
“I don’t have to get you drunk for that,” he said, smirking slyly.
Memories of what happened only six weeks earlier came rushing back to taunt her. Cheeks hot, she couldn’t help but remember how he had forced her to admit she wanted him. Reaching for the alcohol her fingers slid over his, embers still glowing from a fire that was never doused sparked to life. Gripping the glass, adrenaline and fear coursing through her, she deliberately calculated the number of steps she could put between them without broadcasting her unease. Amusement flared in Chuck’s eyes . Enjoying her discomfort, Chuck grinned smugly.
Blair gazed longingly at the champagne. Refusing to take the risk, she set it with a clank on the nearest decorative table. “What do you want?” she asked haughtily, determined to gain the upper hand.
“Everything,” he rasped, soft and deadly.
She pretended she didn’t understand even as the blood pumped furiously through her veins and her pulse beat a wild rhythm in her ears. She would not give into this. She thought of Cedric, who laid his world at her feet, taking only what she could willingly give. She pictured him, his body being slowly poisoned at the very moment, innocent of her deceit.
“You have to be more specific,” she said archly, hoping he would play along, drop this insanity.
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” he drawled, his tone amused but steely with determination. He advanced towards her, sinuously shifting closer, defining seduction with every hard moving line in his body. She squeezed her eyes shut, frantically searching for a new tactic, a way to deflect this avenue of conversation that could not be allowed to continue. Not trusting herself, she retreated a few steps, bitterly acknowledging the slight upper hand his nearness gave him. In order to leave this room with her current life intact she would need to accept her weakness to his touch, his smell, his very presence and not let her pride get in the way.
“Do you have any idea how pathetic you are?” She narrowed her eyes, looking down her nose at him in contempt. “Do the gossips back in the Upper East Side know that Chuck Bass, playboy extraordinaire, now resorts to blackmail to get laid? Did all the girls back home finally get wise to your sleazy moves?” She asked, smiling with pitying condescension.
He regarded her in amusement, recognizing the desperation contained within her insults. She was faltering, her game descending to amateurish levels. She glared at him, her mouth tightening in frustration at his indifference to her machinations. Infuriated, she searched for a new tactic. Chuck made a valiant effort not to laugh at the picture she made, all spikes and bristles. After a while he gave up. A rare chuckle low and throaty erupted from his chest.
“Did you really think it would be that easy? A few insults and I would head back to America with my tail between my legs?”
Wide-eyed a glimmer of uncertainty crossed her face, vanishing almost as soon as it appeared. If he blinked he would have missed it, but the evidence was there and Chuck was confident the end was in sight.
In distress she noted the sudden tensing of his muscles; with predatory grace he moved closer. With each step forward she stepped back, withdrawing until her back hit the wall. He effectively blocked her, his hands resting on either side of her. She pressed into the hard surface, trying to avoid all contact. Though he stood close enough he only needed to lean in to kiss her, he kept a few inches between them. Uncharacteristically patient he waited for her to capitulate, surrender. Her eyes fluttered, remembering his taste, the feel of his skin under her fingertips, the way his eyes devoured her like she was the answer to his prayers, his personal salvation. It had to stop; whatever was between them couldn’t be acted on. She had responsibilities, debts she owed and she could not and would not risk losing everything she had worked so hard for. She feared the fire he ignited within her would incinerate her, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. She swallowed hard and bit back tears. “What will it take to make you stop? Make you go away?”
Triumphant at this turn of events he couldn’t help the slight tinge of sadness that colored his smile at her suffering. Merciful, he didn’t even bother to shade the truth. He just leaned in closer, narrowing the space between them to mere inches. Tiny tremors tingled along her arms and down her back as his breath stroked her cheek and ruffled the strands of hair framing her face.
“Nothing,” he whispered softly in her ear.
He reached out to cup her face, his thumb caressing the curve of her cheekbone, forcing her to look only at him. His eyes smoldered with passion and promise.
“I won’t ever stop. Not until you’re in my bed, wearing my ring.”
The words were ominous, a death knell to the future she had plotted and risked everything for. Her heart thumping wildly in her chest froze in fear. Cold swept over her, turning her skin to ice. She shivered, her breath caught in her throat. Comforting her in the only way he knew how, his mouth moved in to claim hers. With a jerk she slammed her eyes shut, bracing for a kiss that devoured. Instead he pressed his lips to hers lightly, reverently. His tongue delicately traced the outline of her lips, attempting to coax them apart, his kiss unexpectedly gentle and sweet brought tears to her eyes. Flooded with the desire to deepen the kiss, sink against him, lose herself to everything but the feel of his mouth she let down her guard and let him in.
With a sigh of defeat she kissed him back, their tongues crashing into each other, twining and angling. In that moment she gave herself to him, blood pounding in her brain, heart leaping and knees trembling. He pulled her roughly, almost violently to him, her breasts pushed against the hardness of his chest. His body imprisoned hers in a web of throbbing, mind numbing arousal, stilling all thoughts. His hands explored the soft lines of her back, her waist and her hips. He pushed aside the collar of her blouse, exploring the ridge of her collarbone, his finger moving over her heated skin. Shame swept over her as she realized she was enjoying , reveling in her loss of control. It wasn’t until she felt him pluck at the tiny pearl buttons of her blouse that she realized the extent to which she was succumbing to him.
She froze, coming to her senses abruptly. Squirming in his embrace, her arms forced their way between. Palms pressed against the planes of his hard chest she could feel the thumping vibrations of his heart. Heart to heart with only her hands between them she could feel their chests beating in unison. Her fingers itched to clutch and tear at his shirt, remove the barriers between them, skin to skin, heart to heart. At war with herself, she made the only choice she could. Tensing her hands, she pushed him away. He resisted her futile efforts like a cat swatting a fly, pulling her even tighter to him, his kisses becoming forceful and demanding. In protest she attempted to pull her head away from his. He retaliated; his lips became more brutal, taking what he wanted without thought or consideration.
Hardening her heart she played the only card left. Feigning surrender she softened under the passionate onslaught. Pressing forward she met his kiss with equal fervor, mating her tongue to his. She knew this round was hers when with a shudder he yielded to her. Playfully she nibbled his lower lip, sucking it sensuously before she struck. Taking advantage she bit down while simultaneously kicking him hard in the shin. What the moves lacked in permanent damage they made up for in the element of surprise. Startled, he stumbled, releasing her, touching his lip gingerly. Using the opportunity created she scurried away from him. Though the distance was mere feet it might as well have been oceans.
“That will never happen. I will never be yours,” she spat, her chest heaving. Color stained her cheeks and her perfectly coifed curls now haloed her face wildly. “Go home Chuck.”
He drew a ragged breath, threading his fingers through his hair angrily. His eyes bore into her, baring his soul, ripping her to shreds. In his gaze, love, possession and lust were all intertwined. To him there was no difference and it terrified her.
“Marry me,” he said huskily. Words that she once dreamed of hearing from him, the culmination of her fairytale and her happy ever after, were now perverted into something sinister.
She stared at him in disbelief, rolling her eyes. “Are you insane?” She held her ring finger aloft, the symbol a reminder to them both. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m already taken.”
He didn’t spare a glance at her hand, dismissing her theatrics. His hypnotic eyes never left hers. “That means nothing. This isn’t the dark ages, Blair. It no longer takes an act of parliament to get a divorce.”
She lifted her chin defiantly. “I would never divorce Ceddie,” she said coldly.
He gritted his teeth, enraged with jealousy. His biggest weakness, the one emotion he’d never mastered and the one that was irrevocably tied to her.
“What a fitting moniker for a remnant of a family that’s inbred itself almost out of existence,“ he said spitefully.
“That’s rich coming from someone who insists on being known by the only given name in the English language that rhymes with ‘fuck’ ,“ she taunted, smiling viciously
He shook his head benignly, as if dealing with a temperamental child. “What would dear Ceddie think if he heard such vulgarities spilling from the lips of his perfect wife? Would it expose your fraud, the virtuous uptight ideal of womanhood you’ve created for yourself? “
He peered at her quizzically, tapping his chin with his finger in exaggerated contemplation. One corner of his mouth twisted upward, mocking. “Or is that part of your bargain with him? What gets him off. Pristine and perfect on the exterior but behind closed doors he wants you to be nasty, dominate him like a little bitch. No wonder I only have to look at you to get you hot. “
Her smile vanished, wiped away in anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. “
“I think I do. I can always tell when a woman has been well fucked. She struts with confidence, glows with contentment, a secret smile hovers on her lips.” He eyed her up and down with appraising eyes. “Your husband isn’t taken proper care of you,” he drawled.
Her expression was thunderous. “That is none of your business,” she said, her voice tense and clipped.
His harsh feature softened in pleasure, his attack successful. Finding the hidden vulnerability he hammered at it. “Maybe not, but it becomes mine when you force your way into my life, spreading your legs faster than Serena after a few shots of tequila.”
She shot him a hateful look that would have left anyone who wasn’t Chuck Bass running for cover. “I love Cedric,” she declared heatedly, meeting his eyes. She raised her voice, her speech slowing, each word enunciated carefully like he was a half-wit. “I know it’s hard for you to comprehend, but there is more to marriage then sex.”
“Maybe for some, but not you Blair.” His gaze roved over her body, bold and seductive. Shivers of desire ran through her, her response to him instant and primal. “I know the insatiable wanton hidden in your ice queen veneer. This is not the life for you,” he said his velvet voice igniting a burning fever in her blood that only he could cure.
She swallowed hard and in his eyes she saw her demise. The loss of herself with each bruising kiss, every heated touch until she craved nothing but him. There must be something warped inside her, broken, that even now living her fairytale she still wanted him. “You know nothing about me or what I want,” she said in a suffocated whisper.
Sensing how close she was to the edge he pushed her further, hoping she would fall. “Did Serena tell you I stopped into in to see her a few weeks ago?”
She inhaled sharply, dread clawing at her heart. “She mentioned it,” she said cautiously, her face a blank canvas. In distraction her fingers systematically began smoothing the pleats in her skirt, rhythmically folding each sharp line one after another. Her behavior, a red flag, told him what he wanted to know. There was more to this then he ever imagined.
“She couldn’t stop talking about you,” he said slyly, baiting her.
“Really.” Noting her descent into compulsive behavior she stilled her hands, shoving them forcefully to her sides.
“She was very worried about you and your health. Is there anything I need to know?” His voice was coated with insincerity, his worry hidden tightly within. He was grasping at straws, rattling her in hopes that she would slip a careless word, a look or a gesture, anything that he could use against her. Even with the information forced from Blair the picture was no clearer then it had been weeks before in New York. He knew Blair and he could read Serena like a woman with daddy issues and they were both hiding something from him, something that a fortune spent on private detectives couldn’t uncover. If Blair was ever going to be his, this was the ammunition he needed.
“No. Serena clearly has too much time on her hands. I’ll talk to her.” she said curtly, ending all further conversation.
He’d struck a dead end, but it wasn’t over. “I want you, Blair. I’ve always wanted you. There’s never been anyone else. I know you feel the same even if you won’t admit it. I made a mistake years ago and I’m done paying for it. We can have divorce papers drawn up in hours. Without a need for a financial settlement , since I have more than enough, you will be free to marry in weeks. You can have your old life in New York back, see Serena every day, whatever makes you happy. You can have the wedding you always fantasized about.” He paused, gauging her reaction. There was nothing. She stood frozen, uncharacteristically silent.
He sighed, hardening his heart. “Or we can do this the hard way. I can chase you; take it all away piece by piece. Cedric, your reputation, everything until all you have left is me. I will find out what you’re trying so desperately to hide. There will be no place to hide, no one you can go to and nothing will exist for you but me. Make it easy for both of us and stop pretending that what we have isn’t forever. You know me Blair, I fight dirty and I always win.” The air crackled around them with desire, hate and love. Melded together there was no telling where one began and the other ended.
“Go ahead do your worst. This is one game you will never win.”
“Then it’s war?” He asked his voice harsh, ruthless.
She nodded grimly. Head held high, shoulders squared she strode to the door.
Their lives reduced to a game of chess, he took the first move. “I can’t wait to tell Cedric all about our night together in Paris. I promise not to spare any of the juicy details. With any luck it’ll get him stiff enough he’ll try to actually bed you.”
She turned around, looking at him in scorn. “This isn’t high school, Chuck. He always knew. Try again.”
Sacrificing a pawn she won this round, leaving a bomb in her wake.
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A/N: All comments positive or negative are loved.