I've been toying with the idea of writing this for quite some time now. Like some of you, I was less than thrilled with Chuck and Blair in season four. I understand the need to maintain a level of drama, but the writer in me wanted to see how they would turn out if did things my way.

This story is dedicated to my dear friend Miss P, who reads everything I send her without complaint and has encouraged me to do this from day one. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All characters are property of the CW, Gossip Girl and its writers who force me to dream up plots more to my liking.

Five years. It had been five years since she had left the city and him. But despite having seen numerous photos of her in local and international papers- or perhaps it was because of his meticulous documentation of her- he was unprepared for the shock of seeing her in person.

After becoming the youngest billionaire in the city at 17, he made it a point to be aware of everything that happened in what the papers referred to as his "kingdom". No detail slipped past him when he set his sights on something he wanted, whether his endgame was alliance or destruction. He continued the relationships his late father had established and forged new ones that increased his empire's revenue tenfold. The legacy his father left him expanded quickly under his power.

Not only was he business-savvy, he also seemed to have Lady Luck on his side. If a business deal seemed in danger of turning sour, a game-changing fact suddenly came to light at the eleventh hour. Companies that once scoffed at the idea of selling their business were shaking hands enthusiastically with him on the front page of the New York Times the next week. Once, a board member confided in him a sticky situation: his mistress threatened to tell his wife about their affair if he didn't leave her. Before the day was done, the mistress had quietly relocated to an apartment across the country and had even signed a contract agreeing to never contact the gentleman again.

He wasn't above bribing, threatening, or blackmailing to achieve his desired result.

And if his uncanny way of learning everyone's dark secrets wasn't enough, he had a few hand-picked private investigators ready to garner any tidbits he wasn't able to collect himself. This was how he had earned and maintained his reputation as a shrewd and formidable businessman, and he had easily become a millionaire many times over even without his father's fortune.

He had achieved infamy long before he took the reigns of his empire. His sexual prowess was legendary, as was his voracious appetite. He soon became known as the city's most nefarious bachelor, and women gladly let themselves be used and discarded by him.

His features could only be described as classic. It was as if his body had allowed itself to be molded by his personality: sharp, clean, and devilishly handsome. Accentuating his crisp features was his unmistakable fashion- which, to his amusement, often landed him in the Style section of magazines. The rakish and irresistible charm he exuded earned his reputation as a notorious playboy that burned through more dates in a week than there were hours in a day.

He was impenetrable. He could possibly give the Devil himself the fight of his life. He was, for all intents and purposes to everyone who knew him, simply omnipotent.

What he was not was a man who was easily surprised.

So when he saw a familiar brunette walking with a purpose down 5th Avenue from his limo's window, he nearly threw himself out of the moving vehicle without telling his driver to stop. She was supposed to be out of the country still. He had made sure he would be informed if she ever returned, since he found it unbearable to be in the same city as her and not be with her.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was one of his PIs, letting him know that she had returned to the city that morning.

Noted, he thought wryly.

The emotions that had invaded upon this unexpected sighting made quick work of him. Just moments ago he had been perusing a business plan he would be presenting to his board of directors that afternoon, and now he couldn't think of anything but her. Her chestnut curls, full pink lips, her perfume of peaches and sweet spices- it began to overwhelm his senses.

He needed to be closer to her than this. Now.

Because being the subject of her wrath would be enough to sustain him for years to come. Because even if she passed by him without a word, he would still be able to carry the knowledge that her exquisite body and luscious curls had been within reach.

Because he had to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

After informing his driver of the abrupt change in plans, the limo pulled to the curb half a block from where he spotted her. He threw back the rest of his scotch and savored the way the fiery liquid lingered in his throat. He needed a little pain to prepare him for a confrontation with the only woman who could set his world on fire.

She was in a texting flurry- probably with caterers or her maid- so she was not yet aware of his presence. He took the opportunity to drink in the sight of her with her guard down. Her pencil skirted dress drew attention to her slender waist and the cap sleeves emphasized the toning of her fair-skinned arms. Her heels accentuated her shapely legs, which he was convinced had become even more tantalizing since her had seen her in person.

He had, after all, heard plenty. His sister was her best friend, and she couldn't stop gushing about the new season's colors let alone the more intriguing details of her friend's life. And it certainly didn't help that she and his best friend still kept their weekly phone dates they had established during college. In fact, she had kept in close contact with nearly all of his family and close friends.

But he knew her, and was well aware that she was allowing him to be privy to her life.

What she wished him to see, at least.

He could guess the reason for her return to the city. His best friend had told him that she had begun a new relationship overseas. His sister became strangely mute when he slipped her name casually into conversation at brunch that week. They were divulging just enough to make him curious, and he had already been in touch with his PI. Before the day was over, he hoped to know exactly what was going on in her life.

This turn of events, however, could expedite things. He could hear it straight from the horse's mouth if he played his cards right.

He leaned suavely back on his limo and let his roguish features relax. He was lucky she was distracted; under other circumstances she would have sensed him before she saw him. He liked the element of surprise. Catching her off guard was the surest way to get a natural response from her. And find out what she's doing here, he thought as she had finally gotten close enough to him for him to speak.

"It's a shame," he drawled lazily, loud enough for her to hear over the street and foot traffic. She jumped slightly and her eyes flew up to his face. "Had I known you would be in town, I wouldn't have greeted you empty-handed."

"You," she hissed, hastily masking her surprise with a perfected society face. In the moment it took her to gather her wits, she took in the figure of the man she once thought she would grow old with.

For the love of God, he had gotten even more alluringly handsome. She wouldn't have thought it possible if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. He had his hands in the pants pockets of his custom tailored black Italian suit and a sultry pout on his lips, and she trembled inside at the striking sight. His face had taken on a worldly appearance, as if he had been through much more than his lackadaisical posture suggested.

Damn him, she thought. Under no circumstances could she allow herself to be drawn in by his deep brown eyes or his self-assured manner. She had to force herself to stifle any urges he ignited in her.

"Isn't it a little early in the day for you to be trolling for unsuspecting women to abuse?" she sneered. "Don't you have something important to do?"

"The beauty of owning most of this city is that it does a fairly good job of running itself," he chuckled lightly. "And you know well enough that women beg for the pleasure of my company."

"It's unbelievable that you haven't exhausted every woman within a 50 mile radius," she scoffed. "Unless you've developed a more masculine taste?"

He smiled suggestively in response. He knew she would never lose her sharp tongue, but it was surprising how easily they slipped back into old habits. She was still perfection, and he knew he was in trouble. It would have been better if she had walked past him without a glance. With just a few words exchanged, he was utterly lost.

He fixed his dark brown eyes on her then, pulling her into a gaze she was never able to resist. "Have lunch with me."

"That didn't sound like a request," she responded testily as she shifted on her feet.

"It wasn't," he agreed.

"I want nothing to do with you. And something tells me you already know everything there is to know about my life," she replied confidently. "Find someone else to fill the gap in your social calendar."

"Reservations are in 20 minutes."

"I said no."

"In the end you'll say yes," he said. "Get in the limo. We can discuss your vehement loathing for me on the way. Or are you too afraid you'll find that you're still in love with me?"

"No one could ever love such an egotistical sociopath," she spat, lifting her chin in contempt.

"And you'd be hard pressed to find someone willing to deal with your love of power, dear," he countered with a leer.

Oh, but I have, she wanted to say.

"The only way to get what you want in life is to take control," she replied instead.

"And I only like you in control when handcuffs-"

"You're abhorrent."

"-and sweet, painful torture are involved."

"You must have confused me with someone else."

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."

She scoffed and changed tactics. "Tell me, have your whores discovered the camera behind the two way mirror yet? I hadn't read of any lawsuits of late, but those can be quietly settled out of court."

He smirked then. It would have been imperceptible to anyone watching them, but when you knew him the way that she did, the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth was akin to shouting in a library. She wanted to claw it off his face.

"You didn't mind it. In fact, I seem to recall you enjoying the instant replay-"

She grabbed hold of his jacket lapels and kicked him hard in his shin. He managed to bite back a curse but couldn't help grimacing. She allowed herself to a small smile as she released his jacket and crossed her arms over her chest.

"What were you saying about control?"

"Did I speak too a little too truthfully, princess?" he gritted through clenched teeth. "It's pointless to deny how excited you get by watching me make love to you."

"Does your brain even know how to construct a factual thought?" she snapped, ignoring his last statement purposefully. "Or are lies the only things that can make it out of your repulsive mouth? Because, let's face it, I don't think 'I've never had an STD' counts as fact. Do I need to remind you about that blonde bimbo you picked up in St. Tropez?"

"It had been quite some time since I'd visited a nude beach," he said smoothly. "That sunburn was well worth the gossip that it inspired."

Her eyes widened a fraction and she huffed. He saw her fingers begin tapping on her arm from the corner of his eye, a motion that for anyone else conveyed annoyance, impatience, or in his case, disgust. But he knew that in her case it meant something entirely different. He had struck a nerve. It was time to zero in on his prey.

"What's wrong, lover? Jealous it wasn't you who helped me pass a few pleasurable hours on that beach?" He lifted his finger to her jaw as he spoke, tracing the edge down to her chin. Her skin had the look of porcelain and the feel of silk. He could sense the passion in her rising and crashing like waves against her willpower. He had her cornered, and though she would surely deny it with her dying breath, he still affected her.

She forced herself to focus on anything other than the feel of his fingertips on her skin. Her mind raced to recall her favorite Robert Frost poem, Shakespeare's 65th Sonnet, the Emancipation Proclamation, anything- but her body had forgotten her vow to hate him forever and she couldn't focus her thoughts. If she didn't control herself, she'd be trembling and swooning soon. And that was unacceptable.

But the pull between them was undeniable, crackling and charged, evident to any who were in the same vicinity. His crass innuendo coaxed out her passions and her frosty deportment reminded him of days long gone, of secret meetings and feelings denied. She had moved on and envisioned herself immune to him after all this time. He, however, hadn't gone a day without thinking of her.

His thumb had begun tracing her bottom lip tenderly, pulling her from her flustered recapitulation of Dante's Nine Layers of Hell- of which she would certainly be all too familiar with if she didn't escape him soon.

She slapped his hand away with a frown.

"I'm grateful I had the good sense to stop you from marring my reputation any further," she snapped. "Or I would have found myself unfit to be accepted into any respectable circles in society."

"I assure you, I would never do anything to endanger your reputation." His voice had dropped seductively and his fingers reached up to tuck a perfect curl behind her ear.

She crinkled her nose in disgust and slapped his hand away again, her eyes never leaving his.

"Stop doing that," he growled.

"Keep your hands away from me," she commanded.

"Afraid of how good it will feel?"

"I'm much more concerned about where your hands have been."

"Nowhere yours haven't been as well," he smarmed, his voice clipped and husky.

"Ugh," she spat. "You haven't become any less disgusting."

"And you, kitten, have become a terrible liar."

"There's that talk of lies again," she smiled sweetly. "If you knew how to spot the truth, you'd know that I would love nothing more than to be rid of you. Immutably."

She saw his jaw clench and raised her eyebrows tauntingly, keeping the smile on her face. He was boring holes into her soul and she could tell he was annoyed by her evasiveness. If she didn't escape soon she would be forced to divulge more than she intended to. She was also exercising considerable restraint from throttling the smug look off his face, and as much as he deserved it, she knew his stepmother would be less than pleased if she resorted to violence.

"If you'll excuse me," she said, tugging her purse back up to the crook of her arm from where it had slipped during their exchange. "I have some shopping to do."

"I'll accompany you," he stated, his eyes smoldering. "You wouldn't want to find yourself alone and unable to zip up the dress you're buying for tonight, would you?"

"Let me explain this concisely," she enunciated slowly, taking a step towards him so that he could feel the venom coming from her lips. "I'll be shopping alone. You are heinous and will never be welcome to accompany me anywhere. Do not presume to speak to me ever again. Enjoy your lunch."

With that, she turned on her heel and began walking down the street, curls bouncing and head held high. She had outmaneuvered him this time, but she would have to step her game up if she wanted to continue winning their verbal sparring matches. He was a predator and would stalk her tirelessly until his desired outcome was realized.

Suddenly she was seized by a terrifying thought that made her breath catch in her throat: what if she had just enticed him further?

It was only when she stepped into a brightly lit boutique at the end of the block that she allowed herself to relax and exhale. She blamed her racing heartbeat on the rush she got from being caught off guard, forced back into a battle of wits she was now unaccustomed to. How dare he accost her in the middle of the street and order her to share a meal with him? Not to mention his inappropriate reference of past intimacies that she'd done her utmost to forget. It had been five years, and he still behaved as though he owned everything he touched. Irredeemable, loathsome bastard.

Pushing him from her mind, she sighed in ecstasy as she looked over the sparse racks filled with designer labels and fine garments. Perhaps some couture would help clear her mind and formulate a plan of attack. After all, her wardrobe would not be flown in until the next day, and she missed the familiarity of American fashion. She did not yet know that the fluttering in her stomach from their encounter would not subside anytime soon.

"Until tonight," he had murmured, allowing himself the pleasure of watching her perfectly formed legs strut down the sidewalk until she disappeared into a store. This round may have gone to her, but if she thought it would be enough to deter him, then she had gravely underestimated him. The spark of desire he still carried for her had just been fanned into a roaring inferno, and their brief encounter hadn't even begun to whet his appetite. He turned with a parting glance at the shop she had entered and returned to his limo a few paces away. Once inside, he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and pressed a number on his speed dial.

"I need eyes," he spoke into the receiver when the call connected. "I want detailed reports delivered to me daily: who she talks to, what she talks to them about, and anything else you can dig up. Try to relay important details more expeditiously this time."

He didn't bother waiting for an affirmative before hanging up. Before the limo crawled back onto the busy street, he directed his driver to make one more stop before returning to the office. He sipped on a freshly poured scotch, relishing the taste. It occurred to him that she was like his poison of choice: strong, fiery, and intoxicating.

This time, he would make damned sure she ended up with his ring on her finger.