directly into her ear； his hot breath sending shivers down her spine as the desk attendant handed
her the room key。 ？Plus； when I e over； we？ll have plete privacy。？
Well； that？s hard to argue with。
Blair wasn？t sure what Marcus？s dad did for a living； but it had something do with bonds； and
whatever it was sounded very boring。 Marcus was interning at his dad？s office for the summer；
and late nights and early mornings meant he had hardly any energy for 。 。 。 sex。 Blair had only
done it a few times with Nate Archibald； and she was beyond eager to try it with someone older
and more experienced； like Marcus？not that sex with Nate had been so bad。
Her rosemary La Mer bath tonic and minty Marvis toothpaste masking the stink of scrambled
egg and tomato； she hurried back to the bedroom and hopped into bed； wearing only a light sheen
of lavender…scented bath water； Chanel No。 5 perfume； and the Bvlgari earrings she hadn？t taken
off once since her graduation party at the Yale Club a little over two weeks ago。
After ditching Vanessa Abrams？s small apartment in dingy and weird Williamsburg； with no
intention of moving back to the crazy world she used to call home； Blair had decided to live at the
Yale club。 She and Lord Marcus had met in the elevator； and his hot accent and neatly ironed jeans
had gotten to her right away。 Fate had it that their rooms were side by side； and she could imagine
the feel of his sexy English breath on her neck even before they？d kissed？which had happened that
very night。 After pouring her heart out to him over six or seven cosmos； Blair was so sure she？d
found the love of her life； she practically threw herself at him。 She was too tipsy？ and he was too
much of a gentleman？to do more than kiss。 But allthat was about to change。
Blair draped the sheets over her body and lit a cigarette； striking a pose that said；I？m on my
honeymoon and worn out from doing it； but what the hell； let？s do it again 。 She grabbed the
newspaper off of the floor and propped up the front page so it looked like she was reading it。
There。 Perfect。 An intellectual sexpot。 A worldly woman who read all about international
crises？and preferred to discuss said crisesin bed 。 If only she had a pair of vintage fifties reading
glasses to perch on the tip of her nose。
All the better to see you naked with！
As if on cue； Lord Marcus flung the bedroom door open and Blair turned her head slowly； as if
she could barely stand to break away from the current poultry deficit in Asia。 He was wearing a
perfectly tailored charcoal summer suit with an olive James Perse T…shirt underneath that made his
striking green eyes look serious and deep and oh…so…promising。
？What？s this； then？？ he asked； furrowing his golden…brown eyebrows。 ？Remember I said I had a
surprise？？
？I？ve got a surprise for you too；？ Blair cooed sexily。 ？e look under the sheets。？
？Right；？ he continued a little impatiently。 ？Well； put on your clothes； love。？
？I don？t want to；？ Blair plained； pouting。
He hurried across the room and kissed her quickly on the nose。 ？Later；？ he promised。 ？Now
throw on some clothes and meet me downstairs in the lobby。？ Then he turned and left the room；
leaving her perfumed； well…moisturized； and depilated body naked and alone。
This better be a good surprise。
Blair emerged from the wood…paneled elevator in a hastily chosen ensemble： a chocolate brown
Tory Burch tunic （thank you； Harrods）； a favorite pair of old True Religion jeans； and clunky gold
Marc by Marc Jacobs clogs。 She looked like a jet…setter on holiday。 Just right for a weekend jaunt
to Tunis in Lord Marcus？s private jet。 Couldthat be the surprise？
The grand； chandelierlit marble hotel lobby was abuzz with activity； but Blair noticed a hush fall
over the crowd as she crossed the tiled floor； her clogs clopping noisily； to the overstuffed black
velvet chaise where Marcus sat waiting for her。 He was so goddamn handsome Blair couldn？t help
admiring him； like he was a painting or some rare piece of sculpture； and it was hard to resist
plunging her fingers into the thick waves of his golden…brown hair。 She was so busy mentally
rhapsodizing over her gorgeous English lover that she barely noticed he was holding hands with
someone who wasdefinitely not her。
Ding； ding。 Hello？
Forgetting the romantic jaunt to Africa； Blair？s eyes narrowed at the horsy blonde holding her
boyfriend？s hand。What the fuck？
？Blair； at last；？ Lord Marcus greeted her smoothly； standing but not letting go of his
panion？s hand。 ？This； my dear； is my darling cousin Camilla； the one I told you about。 My
soul mate。 She？s in town for a couple of weeks。 We were practically twins growing up！ Isn？t that
the most marvelous surprise？？
？Marvelous；？ echoed Blair； throwing herself onto a nearby armchair。 She didn？t remember
hearing anything about any cousin Camilla。
But then； listening had never been her strong suit。
？I？m so delighted to meet you；？ said Camilla； staring down her long； prominent nose？the kind of
schnozz even the best plastic surgeon couldn？t fix。 Her pale English plexion was layered with
ical amounts of beige powder and primary…red blush。 Her legs were clownishly long and
skinny； like she？d been stretched on one of those old…fashioned lengthening machines Blair had
tried to find on eBay。
？Mimi just turned up yesterday morning； unannounced；？ Lord Marcus explained。 ？Imagine； like
a lost waif； with bags in hand。？ He chuckled。
？Yes； well； thankfully I can count on my dear Marmar to open up his home to me；？ Camilla
gushed； casually running her free hand through her long； flaxen hair。 Hair that could easily be cut
off in the middle of the night。
Wait？hishome ？
？You？re staying at his place？？ demanded Blair rudely； already hating the crooked…toothed
Camilla and her ugly yellow Indian silk sundress； which probably cost thousands but looked like a
tablecloth。 ？But I thought there wasn？t room。？
？There？s always room forfamily ；？ Lord Marcus answered； squeezing Camilla？s talonlike hand
before turning back to Blair。 ？Not to worry； sweetheart。 We？ll all have a grand time together。？
Sure they will。
money isn？t funny； honey
Blair couldn？t tell if the pounding was in her head？she？d put away quite a few whiskeys on the
plane？or if it was real。 She lifted her head： no； it was real； and it was ing from the door to the
bedroom where she？d crashed last night； the room formerly occupied by her hippie stepbrother；
Aaron Rose。
？Blair Cornelia Waldorf！？
There was more pounding。 It was her mother and her voice sounded 。 。 。 different。 Was she sick？
Did she have something in her mouth？
Eleanor Rose pushed the door open and stomped into the dark bedroom； perching on the edge of
the mattress。 She was carrying a mug of coffee and was dressed in her summertime sleep outfit； a
flouncy； way…too…short peachy Eberjey slip and matching robe。
？Wake up！？ she shrieked hoarsely。
Blair pulled the covers over her head and moaned。 Why was her mother carrying on like this so
early in the morning？
？Blair Waldorf；？ her mom his