You and Chuck Bass had never gotten along. You were two very different people, with personalities like fire and ice. However, the two of you did share one thing in common: you practically owned New York between the two of you. Both from incredibly influential families, it was only a matter of time before someone decided the line.

Just as the warfront of power came to its head, the two powerful men that were his father and your own came to an agreement. Instead of enemies, the two families would become close allies. Much to both your and Chuck's dismay.

One such downside of this allyship was that now the two of you couldn't be at each other's throats in public. Attending events together became the norm. Neither of you were allowed to bring a date to any of the galas or charity events you would be attending. Instead, you were to arrive on Chuck's arm.

It was all an act, of course. A carefully concocted story, being spoon-fed to the press to create an image of solidarity between his family and yours. The two of you could barely contain the animosity.

Tonight's gala was held in the ballroom of Chuck's hotel. Socialites and the true elite mingled, conversation flowing through the room like the wine that was being poured into the glasses of the many, many rich and powerful people.

Check snagged a drink off the bar. A martini, dry. Just the way you liked it. He approached you, his hand on your hip as he leaned down. "That get-up is hideous," he whispered into your ear, handing you the glass, "now laugh as if I'm the funniest person alive." His voice was quiet.