A/N: This is a little bit AU and written in a bit more of an old-school way than I usually do things, but I don't think it requires much explanation. This chapter is a bit of a prologue, setting things up, but you should know that the primary focus of this story will be Ca/S, followed closely by CB, with an emphasis on UES society and the rivalry between Carter and Chuck. With all of that said, enjoy, and please review! :)

Mercy

It makes my blood run cold, the things they say to one another.

-- Gone With the Wind

--

Manhattan, with its iconic skyline - the liner, powerful lines of business towers, some of which had been produced by his family's extensive legacy, piercing the sun as it set in the sky – was his birthplace, but it had been a long time (many girls, scams, adventures, and business deals) since Carter Baizen had considered it his home.

He was returning reluctantly, for a necessary meeting, and he planned on boarding his private jet at nine o'clock the next morning, heading home to Dubai via London, and never looking back. It was grudgingly that he had flown halfway around the world today in the first place; the trip felt mildly useless and was sure to be an annoyance considering the only reason he was touching down on New York soil was to meet with the man – the boy, really – who might be described as his nemesis: Charles Bass.

There had been a time when Carter had taken Chuck under his wing, had introduced him to the lifestyle of brilliant debauchery they'd both perfected – Chuck having done so to a lesser degree, of course. But as they grew older, their interests differed, and Carter had left Chuck behind in New York City, moving on to bigger and better things in other parts of the world. He was a nomad by nature, whereas Chuck had always, for some reason, kept Manhattan as his home base. Over time, they would run into each other now and again, their encounters becoming more and more confrontational, and now they tended to fully avoid one another.

Their family history, however, was irrevocably tied. So when Charles' father, Bartholomew Bass, a Manhattan mogul, passed away in a tragic car accident, Carter only knew it was courteous to take a meeting with the heir to the Bass fortune. Besides, from what he had heard, Bart's recent marriage to Lily van der Woodsen had been outwardly perfect but inwardly tense and may have even resulted in Lily having an affair with an old sweetheart from her rebellious youth who was now playing an important role in her life in the aftermath of her husband's death. There were also rumours – albeit unconfirmed ones – that Chuck was dating, dating, Blair Waldorf, whom Carter heard was a beautiful, wealthy, and intelligent socialite. With a potentially unfaithful stepmother, new siblings to divide up inheritance with, and lawyers and investors lecturing him, Carter figured Chuck was owed this meeting despite their personal vendettas against one another – and stealing away a pretty girl certainly wouldn't be an occurrence he'd protest against.

By the time his limo glided to a stop outside the Palace hotel, it was nearly completely dark in the city. He stepped out and into the hotel, nodding dismissively to the doorman as he strode briskly toward the elevators. Due to his late arrival in America, Chuck had asked that they meet in his family suite rather than at his father's office, and Carter had readily agreed.

As he stepped into the Bass suite, he caught sight of a large Prada sign in his peripheral vision, his gaze drifting over a staircase and a few pieces of expensive furniture and artwork before his eyes settled on Chuck, who was sitting near the fire, a glass of scotch in his hands and a faraway look in his eyes.

He cleared his throat. "Chuck," he said lowly, stepping forward and opening his mouth once again, preparing to offer his condolences.

At that moment, before he could make his way across the room, a pretty brunette brushed past him, drifting across the room toward Chuck, her small hand settling comfortably on his shoulder. Her eyes flicked over Carter's face in a way similar to the gaze he'd just bestowed on the doorman.

"Who's this, darling?" she purred, settling on the armrest of his chair, Chuck's arm slipping easily around her waist to steady her there and keep her close. Their expressions were carefully unconcerned, eerily matched, and it occurred to Carter then that their clothing – her deep magenta dress and the colour of the pattern on his tie – were also a perfect match to one another.

Chuck inclined his head toward were Carter stood. "Carter Baizen; meet –"

"Blair Waldorf," he interjected easily, pacing forward to grasp her free hand, bending to brush his lips to her skin. She pulled away the moment he straightened up again, unhurriedly, hand floating to rest on her lap.

"A pleasure to meet you," she sighed politely. She was beautiful, to be sure: entirely proper and almost regal, but there was wittiness dancing in her brown eyes and coquettish quality to her smile that made him think there were other sides to her, sides that perhaps only Chuck was privy to. He could sense that her shell of propriety and elegance would be a hard one to crack…and he was slightly alarmed to realize he had no real desire to take up the task, except, perhaps, to annoy Chuck, who was watching him closely.

"Go home," the new Bass billionaire murmured to Blair, lips brushing over her jawbone. "I'll see you in the morning." Her eyes flickered toward Carter as a subtle frown tugged at her lips, causing Chuck to smirk. "Go."

"Call me," she replied, just as softly, standing up and reaching for her purse, which was sitting on one of the couches.

"Miss Waldorf," Carter said, just slightly mischievous, as she walked past him.

Her smile was made of steel. "Mr. Baizen."

He watched her go, glancing over her shoulder once before she stepped into the elevator, before turning to Chuck and allowing himself a sly smirk. "She's got a nice –" He almost laughed at the death stare that found him, holding up his hands in surrender. "Smile. She has a nice smile."

It was clear that Chuck was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Sit. We're here to discuss business; and let's make it quick, I'm tired."

Unbuttoning his blazer, Carter made himself comfortable on the couch where Blair's purse had just been placed. "It must be a hard time," he said, more quietly and much more sincerely.

"It's been over a month," Chuck replied brusquely without meeting his eyes. "I've adjusted." He smiled bitterly. "It hasn't really been that much of a change."

Carter let the comment slide, understanding that this was sensitive territory, and leaned back. "What business do we have to discuss, then?"

Chuck's eyes found his face, focusing clearly for the first time, and it startled Carter – how he looked very much like the eleven-year-old who he'd bestowed with his first joint, and also so grown up, like his father. "You didn't read the file I specifically sent to you?"

He grinned. "Who reads things?"

Bass's eyes flashed and he sighed, pressing his lips together as if trying to quell a smile. "Irresponsible as ever, aren't you, Baizen?"

"I wouldn't use that exact word…"

Chuck leaned forward, propping his elbows on his legs. "The Goodsworth building downtown –"

"The one you're renovating?" Carter asked, leaning forward as well, intrigued.

"Yes. You – or at least, your family – "

"I don't have a lot of contact with my family."

Clearly, Chuck didn't appreciate his interruptions. "Well, I believe you are the one responsible for the fact that your family has invested in the renovations."

Carter's eyebrows flew up; he was almost impressed. "And you're updating me on the progress of these mysterious renovations of yours?"

With an abrupt shake of his head, Chuck corrected: "No. I'm updating you to inform you that I am no longer interested in your family's investments."

"Excuse me?"

"This is my first project," he said intensely. "I need to make this work to prove myself to the board. To my uncle," he said with a sneer, adding with a bit less disdain, "And to my stepmother."

"Ah, yes," Carter replied, choosing to ignore Chuck's idiotic request for the time being as he smiled broadly. "How is the family?"

Closing his eyes, Chuck pressed his fingers to his temples. "Business, Baizen."

"It's awfully quiet here," Carter continued as if the other man hadn't spoken, "I was under the impression that this was your family's suite."

He could see Chuck's expression shift as he simply decided to give in, that it would be easier simply to answer questions. "Lily is…out for the evening," he muttered, allowing Carter to draw his own conclusions. "And her children are asleep."

"Baby-sitting?" Carter inquired cheerfully.

Having had enough, Chuck slammed his fist down onto the delicate coffee table. "I want you to withdraw your investments."

"What about the money?"

"I've prepared. The board has helped me find new investors."

"Reluctantly, I'm sure."

"That's none of your business," Chuck replied evenly, his gaze steady. "The point is that I intend for this venture to be successful. And when it is, I do not want to be indebted to you in any way."

"That's rather hostile," he said dryly, eyebrows arched.

"I'm sure you can find something useless to spend that money on," Chuck responded disdainfully, sitting back in his chair and glancing back at the fireplace.

Mimicking him, Carter relaxed as well. "I'm fairly certain you can't force me to withdraw."

Narrowing his eyes, Chuck ordered, "Don't make this difficult."

He couldn't resist chuckling.

Chuck clenched his jaw. "This could be easy. Withdraw without any trouble and buy a ticket somewhere. Go climb a mountain or something." His lips twitched. "And feel free to fall."

Carter clucked his tongue casually, wearing an easy smile that was known to infuriate. "Now, Charles.You should know by now that trouble…is what I do best."

"I want you out of my deal. And preferably, out of the country."

He stood up slowly, levelling Chuck with his stare. He could not be shaken that easily, and despite what Bass Industries' board probably thought, Chuck had a fairly good head for business and was clearly determined – his mysterious downtown project was bound to be a success, and Carter wanted to be involved. "You'll be hearing from my lawyers," he said with a lazy sigh, glancing around the room once more, searching for family photos or some touch of home, but there was nothing to be found.

Chuck shot to his feet, fists clenched. "You can't force me to accept your money, Baizen."

Same easy smile in place, Carter shrugged, unbothered. "Watch me," he replied smoothly. Smoothing out his facial expression, he added with considerably more kindness: "I'm very sorry for your loss. Give my regards to the family."

He strode over to the elevator slowly and carelessly, aware that Chuck was seething behind him. For years, Carter had had the upper hand, and he intended to maintain it. Just as he reached out to press the button to summon it, the doors slid open with nothing more than a hiss, relieving a girl who nearly ran right into him on her way out.

Instinctively, he reached out to steady her, to keep her from falling. She was wearing a short, body-hugging golden dress that seemed to sparkle even in the dim light of the hallway. She was clearly intoxicated, and barefoot, expensive but scuffed-up shoes dangling from her fingertips; her hair was loose and wild and he couldn't seem to take all of her in at once. Glancing up at him from underneath long eyelashes, she shot him a brief, sultry smile before giggling lightly and slipping away, toward the staircase.

Not wanting to call attention to himself, he stepped into the elevator, but he couldn't resist glancing back over his shoulder. When her feet hit the top step, Chuck called out to her, his voice low as he approached her slowly, eyes dark. She could only have been another conquest of his, though she seemed to be Blair Waldorf's polar opposite; she exuded mischief, obvious in the wink she cast in Chuck's direction as he moved toward her, but despite this wild streak, there was something sweet, almost warm, about her.

The elevator doors slid shut just as Chuck reached out to her, his fingers encircling her wrist lightly – maybe even intimately – and Carter felt a sudden rush of jealousy burn through his body. He wished he had left a moment or two later, had seen her for longer, had been able to watch them interact. As he stepped out into the night he caught sight of flickering lights; they reminded him of her eyes.

"To the airport?" his driver asked, swinging open the door of his limo and allowing him to slip inside.

He paused, considering. "No. Take me to the Downing. It seems that Chuck and I will need to meet again."

The door closed, granting him the privacy to loosen his tie and lean back on the leather seats, eyes focused on the city streets outside the tinted windows. He'd been reluctant to come back to the city, but it now seemed like a necessary move; after all, he had to make sure to remain involved in the Bass project.

And, if time permitted – it certainly would, he was sure of it – he was going to steal away one very gorgeous girl.