A/N: So this is already posted in my one shots collection but I've decided to make it a story so I'm posting it on its own.
New York, 1930
Harrison smirked as he watched Olivia reapply her red lipstick for the third time that evening. He sat in the living room of his apartment, peering into Olivia's bedroom. They were supposed to be going to an underground club, but Olivia couldn't decide what to wear. She stood before the mirror in an ivory slip, pouting at her reflection.
"Liv, put on some clothes so we can go." Harrison pulled out his flask and took a drink.
Olivia turned to smirk at him. "I don't have anything to wear. I've worn all my party clothes, which is why I said we oughta quit partying every night."
"Liv, this ain't Georgia. When I invited you up here for the summer, I told you what we'd be doing this whole time." Harrison had invited Olivia, his favorite cousin, to live with him in Harlem for the summer after she graduated high school as she and her mother, Maya, were disagreeing about her future plans to the point that they were barely speaking.
"I know. I just never imagined we'd be partying so much. I've never danced so much in my whole life." She brushed her professionally waved hair, a gift from one of Harrison's girlfriends, then went back to the closet for the fifth time.
"Wear that red dress you just bought. The shiny one."
Olivia pulled out the sequined mini dress and held it up. "Mama would die twice if she knew I was wearing something so short."
Harrison smirked. "Well wear one of those "Easter in Augusta" dresses she sent you."
Olivia rolled her eyes. "I'd sooner die."
She went behind her red dressing partition and slipped the dress on. "Are we going into Manhattan, or Atlantic City?"
"This party's in Manhattan. Supposedly run by some gangsters who bring the booze in all the way from Nebraska."
"Nebraska?"
"Yeah. White Lightning is made from corn."
"I don't like that stuff. It burns. I prefer champagne."
"Well we aren't gonna get anything to drink if you don't hurry up in there."
Olivia finally emerged from her bedroom in the red dress, sheer thigh highs with black seams up the back, and black t-strap pumps. A strand of pearls hung around her neck, and a little black handbag dangled from her shoulder. "Let's go."
They left Harrison's apartment building and took a cab into Manhattan. Olivia stared out the window at the lights. She had been in New York for nearly two months but the city's night skyline never ceased to amaze her. Augusta was beautiful in its rural way, but it had nothing on Manhattan at midnight.
"You know, Russell has been bending my ear every chance he gets asking about you," Harrison said as they crossed the bridge.
"Hmm." Olivia didn't care for Russell, but he was an up and coming jazz pianist, and she wasn't sure if she would need his connections for the rest of the summer's activities. There was the Fourth of July and Memorial Day to think of, and countless parties that he could get her into. Still, those countless parties would have to be attended as his date, and that fact alone made staying home a much more appealing option.
"He's probably gonna be here tonight."
"Mmm." Olivia's crimson lips became a thin line as she mulled over the prospect of spending the evening avoiding Russell. He was a nice enough young man, but he needed the kind of constant validation and attention for which Olivia simply hadn't the patience.
Harrison smirked. "I take it I should tell him you've set your sights on someone else."
"Anyone else," Olivia replied as the cabbie opened her door. She smiled politely at the tall thin man. "Thank you."
He nodded then climbed back into the driver's seat. Harrison paid him then turned to Olivia on the sidewalk. The building in front of which they stood looked very much like the rest of the houses on the street. Olivia wondered how a speakeasy could exist in such a nice, quiet neighborhood. "Are you sure this is the right place?"
Harrison nodded. "You'd be surprised where these places pop up."
They descended the stairs beside the brownstone and Harrison knocked on what Olivia guessed was the basement door. A large man dressed in a black suit opened the door and grinned. "Hey jack, I thought they locked you up after the last party!"
"I slipped away just in time," Harrison replied as they stepped inside.
"Is this your new girl?" the man asked.
"I'm his cousin, Olivia." Olivia stepped forward and shook his hand.
"Liv's visiting for the summer all the way from Charleston."
The grinning man ran a hand over his shining hair. "Well welcome to New York, baby."
The man went back to the door and Olivia looked around at the murmuring crowd with a smile. "What kind of party is this? No one's dancing."
Harrison almost didn't hear her, his eyes on a group of girls sneaking glances at him as they refilled their glasses. "Well why don't you go get it started?"
He was surprised when she replied, "Alright I will."
Olivia strode to the jazz band playing a lazy song and spoke to the sunglasses-wearing bass player. Harrison smirked as the man grinned at whatever Olivia was murmuring in his ear, nodding eagerly as if she promised him something. He began strumming his bass spiritedly and the band quickly joined in. Olivia threw her hands up and began dancing, making her tiered fringe dress whip wildly. The crowd's murmur quieted as people stopped to watch her. Olivia danced on, seemingly unaware. It didn't take long for more women, not to be ignored or outdone, joined her. The men quickly followed suit. Harrison remained in his seat, ordering a drink as he looked around for familiar faces. He spotted Fitz Grant, one of the city's most notorious bootleggers, and followed the man's gaze to Olivia. Harrison couldn't decide which of them was worse news for the other.
A waitress delivered his drink then disappeared into the throng of dancing people, her tray held above her head. Olivia dropped into the seat next to him, picking up a napkin to dab at her glistening face. She looked around the small basement, noting that it had been gutted to house a bar and wooden barrels that she guessed held more liquor. The tables lining the brick walls were small and round, flanked by pairs of round chairs with small cushions on them. The floor had been redone with gleaming black and white tile that ended abruptly at a doorway closed off by a curtain. Olivia guessed it was a gambling den since many underground clubs had one.
A waitress appeared beside their table with a carafe of champagne. "Compliments of the owner, ma'am."
Olivia gave a wide-eyed smile as the waitress uncorked the bottle then poured her a glass. "Who's the owner?"
"I can't say." The waitress smiled politely then flitted away.
Harrison laughed, already knowing who it was from. He turned to Olivia. "Gangster's giving you the eye."
He tilted his head in Fitz's direction and Olivia turned to look. She and Fitz made eye contact and he lifted his glass in a toast. Olivia did the same then looked back at Harrison. "Who's that?"
"Fitz Grant."
Olivia's eyes widened. "You're lying."
"Honest to God."
Looking him over, Olivia couldn't believe he was the Fitz Grant everyone was always talking about at parties. With his boyish curls and sparkling blue eyes, he could have been a movie star, or the lead singer of a jazz band, but a gun-toting bootlegger? He just looked too sweet. She stole another glance at him, watching him talk to the two men who wore black suits identical to his, then looked away, shaking her head as she sipped her champagne.
The door flew open, hitting the brick wall with a bang that stopped the music, and a murmur of confusion rose over the crowd only to be silenced by a shout. "Police! Nobody move!"
"Run Liv!" Harrison grabbed his cousin's hand, pulling her along into the throng of people squeezing through the basement's back door and spilling out into the alley behind the building. Thanks to Harrison's broad shoulders, they made it outside relatively quickly, only to find more police waiting. Olivia wasn't sure when she lost Harrison's hand, only that her feet wouldn't stop moving as she hurried toward the street. She didn't even look where she was going as she darted into the street along with other fleers. She weaved between cars, almost to the other side of the street when the heel of her stiletto got stuck in a manhole cover and she fell, hitting the cold asphalt and knocking the champagne haze off her mind.
"Are you alright?" She blinked at the man leaning over her, wondering if she was unconscious and hallucinating. He reached for her waist and lifted her to her feet then repeated his question.
"Yes," Olivia breathed, looking down at herself to make sure she hadn't torn her dress.
"Your knee is bleeding." He knelt to look at it, ignoring the bleating horns of drivers swerving around his car. He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at the blood. He looked up at her. "It's not bad, just a scrape."
Olivia recognized his clear blue eyes. "You're the man from the party, the one who smiled at me."
He nodded. "We should get out of the street. I can take you home if you want."
"I can't get into your car. I don't even know your name."
"Would you rather stay here and have the police catch you?" he asked as he stood.
Olivia wasn't sure if the police were still rounding people up but she didn't want to find out. She looked back at the cream-colored Rolls Royce where a chauffeur sat in the front seat, watching them patiently, and decided he couldn't be terribly dangerous with a driver. She looked the blue-eyed man over once more then walked around the car, surprised when he hurried around her and opened the back door so she could climb inside.
"This is a nice car," Olivia complimented as she sunk into the leather backseat.
"Thank you. It was a gift," the man replied as he joined her.
Olivia wondered what sort of friend gifted a person with a Rolls Royce. "Must be a good friend."
The man shrugged his broad shoulders. "We're more business partners than friends, honestly."
"Well then it must be good business." She watched him stretch his long legs out in front of him. "You haven't told me your name."
"You haven't told me yours either," he replied with a smile.
"Olivia Pope of Charleston, North Carolina." She offered her small hand for him to shake.
He took it. "Fitz Grant, formerly of New Haven, Connecticut, presently of Long Island, New York."
Olivia blinked. "You're the Fitz Grant?"
He smiled almost boyishly. "I take it from your wide eyes that you've heard of me."
Olivia blushed. "I've heard some things…"
He looked at her questioning but said nothing. Her manners told her to remain silent but his gaze goaded words from her that she couldn't stop. "It's nothing bad…well not really. People have said that you're a bootlegger, but most hold you in the highest regard despite that. Not that there's anything wrong with that…what you do. I mean, it's a crime, but the law's rather silly if you ask me."
Olivia was sure she'd embarrassed herself beyond repair until he smiled, so soft and kind that she could almost imagine she'd fallen in love with him in a single moment. He ran a hand through his hair. "Well I am a bootlegger, which technically does make me a criminal, but it's nice to know people think I'm a nice guy."
"I suppose it's hard to dislike someone who throws such nice parties." She smiled. "I could do without the hundred meter dash at the end though."
He laughed, his head falling back. "I'm sorry about that, and your knee. I don't normally injure my party guests."
She looked down at her knee, covered by his handkerchief. "It's nothing. Although, I've ruined your handkerchief, and it was silk of all things. I'll have to replace it."
He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I've got hundreds. It seems I get one every time I get a shirt."
"I've only got one silk blouse. It's a terrible fabric for the southern climate. The summer's so hot you can hardly wear it without sweating through it."
"What do you wear then?"
"Seersucker and flannel mostly, although flannel is awful in the heat too. But at least when you sweat in it, no one knows."
Fitz nodded. "Are you hungry? We could get some food if you are."
Olivia looked at her watch. "It's nearly two in the morning. What's still open at this hour?"
"I know a place." He leaned forward and murmured to his driver, who nodded and made a u-turn on the deserted street. A few minutes later, they came to a stop in front of a small building bearing no name on the outside. Olivia wondered what sort of place had no name as the driver opened the door for her. She wrapped her arms around herself as she got out into the chilly night air. Fitz quickly draped his jacket over her bare shoulders.
"I forgot my wrap in all that commotion," Olivia said as his hand gently found her lower back.
"I'll see that you get it back." She had no doubt that he would. Gangster or otherwise, he was seemingly nothing short of a gentleman.
The restaurant was decorated in much the same way as the basement, and there were several people eating despite the late hour. Everyone offered warm greetings to Fitz as they walked through. He looked around the dining room then back at Olivia. "Do you want to eat in here? I have a private room if you'd like to go somewhere quieter."
Olivia wasn't sure what to make of him. "Wherever you want is fine."
Fitz nodded and led her to a smaller room with only one table in it. He pulled out her chair and helped her into it then went to the record player in the corner and turned it on. He smiled as he sat opposite her. "Do you like Bessie Smith?"
"Very much," Olivia answered, smiling as the woman's soft smoky voice filled the small room.
"Me too. A friend took me to see her in Manhattan. She's incredible." Olivia again wondered what to make of him. She didn't think smooth jazz fit the gangster lifestyle. Surely he needed a brasher, more dangerous soundtrack for his life.
She looked down at the perfectly set table and picked up the handwritten menu, wondering what sort of chef handwrote their menu. She looked back up at Fitz. "Do you own this place too?"
He nodded, picking up his own menu. "Yes. It's been in my family for years, since the first Grant got off the boat from Scotland almost a century ago."
Olivia smiled like the cat who'd gotten the cream, things finally clicking for her. "That's how you do it!"
Fitz looked up at her in surprise. "Do what?"
"It's how you smuggle in the liquor. You use this place as a front so the police can't question where your money comes from."
Fitz smiled at her smile, guessing she was quite pleased at figuring out his money front. "Technically you're right, but this place is a real business. It's open during regular hours too. The overnight business is superfluous."
Olivia smiled, placing her chin in her hand. "So are you like the gangsters in the movies? Do you have machine guns in your trunk and a pistol in your breast pocket? And a mansion with a pet snake?"
Fitz laughed. "Well I don't carry a gun. My driver does, but I don't. And I do have a mansion, but no pet snake. I don't have a pet. I'm not home very often and it seems cruel to have an animal rambling around the house with no company."
"I had a dog back home but the poor thing went blind and we had to put her down." She frowned, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
"I'm sorry."
A waiter appeared before them, dressed in a white jacket and black pants. "Good evening, Mr. Grant."
Fitz nodded at him and the waiter turned to her. Olivia's eyebrows raised when he bowed to her as if she were royalty. "Good evening, ma'am."
Olivia smiled politely. "Good evening."
The man turned back to Fitz. "Are you ready to order sir?"
Fitz looked at Olivia, smiling at her as she read over the menu, her lip still between her teeth. He briefly thought of how much he would like to pull that same lip between his own teeth. "Bring Ms. Pope and myself everything."
"Everything?" Olivia looked up from the menu. There wasn't much food on it but it seemed excessive to order so much food.
He nodded then turned back to the waiter. "Everything on the menu and a bottle of champagne."
The waiter nodded then left them. Olivia looked at him quizzically. "Do we really need so much food?"
"Well, everything on the menu is good. This way you can pick anything you'd like." Fitz would have served her the world on a silver platter if she asked. He knew then that he was in trouble. He was normally only generous enough with women to keep them coming back, but he wanted to lavish Olivia in every luxury imaginable. He could see himself draping her neck in more pearls than the sea had to offer, wrapping her in minks lined with so much silk that she'd forget any other fabric existed, offering her rings with diamonds that would make her little hands too heavy to lift.
The waiter returned with a bottle of champagne and filled their glasses. "Shall I begin bringing in the appetizers, Mr. Grant?"
"Yes," Fitz replied.
"Please," Olivia interjected with a smile.
Fitz grinned too. "Please."
The man nodded and left the room then returned with a cart holding several steaming plates. The waiter seemed to realize that decisions would be left up to Olivia and turned to her. "What would you like to sample first, ma'am?"
Olivia looked over the menu. "The crab cakes."
The man smiled as he set the plate before her. "Excellent choice."
Fitz watched her cut the cake into delicately small pieces then pick up one on her fork to taste it. She smiled. "Oh this is incredible."
"Stephen is the best chef in the city," Fitz replied, pleased that she was enjoying herself.
She picked up another piece and held it out to him. "Do you want some?"
Fitz normally would never have eaten off a woman's fork. It was too intimate, but she smiled sweetly as she held the fork out. He ate the piece of crab cake and nodded. "These are probably the best thing on the menu."
They finished the crab cakes then the waiter turned back to Olivia. "Next?"
Olivia considered the menu again. "Hmmm…I think I'll try the lamb lollipops."
The waiter set the plate before her and Olivia looked at Fitz. "Is it odd that I've never had lamb? My mother always said lamb was Jew food and that Jews were the last thing we should want to be like, which never made any sense to me since we don't even know any Jews, but I digress."
"I suppose not." He sliced a lollipop in half. "Lamb should always be the perfect shade of pink, and so soft that you almost don't have to chew."
Olivia considered the lollipop. "Do I eat it like a drumstick?"
"I do." He smiled as he held the drumstick up to her lips.
Olivia took a bite and smiled as she chewed. "I think I've just found my new favorite food."
xxxxx
After more food than what seemed possible, a different appeared with a cart laden with desserts. He smiled at them. "Hello. I'm Stephen, the head chef. I just wanted to come meet the woman who's gotten to sample my whole menu."
Olivia smiled. "Everything's so good."
"You did a good job, Stevie," Fitz interjected, giving Stephen a pointed look as the man gazed at Olivia. Stephen looked away from Olivia to Fitz and quickly got rid of his smile. "Tell the lady about the desserts."
Stephen picked up a plate of éclairs. "These are my specialty. I whip the chocolate filling until it's light as a feather and bake the puff pastry until it's got the gentlest crunch. The chocolate filling is infused with bourbon for a delightful kick. Then when they're just cooling I dust them with powdered sugar and—"
"Let the lady eat, Stevie," Fitz interrupted.
Olivia smiled when Stephen stepped back to stand next to the cart. She picked up her fork and cut the pastry then took a bite. Her eyes closed as she licked powdered sugar off her top lip. "Oh this is heavenly."
"I have to stop myself from eating those by the dozen," Fitz said, smiling as he watched her take another bite. Stephen smirked at his boss, normally all frowns and criticisms, now grinning and mooning over a woman. Olivia finished the éclair then wiped her mouth. Fitz looked at Stephen. "What's next?"
Stephen set two small bowls in front of them. "Clafoutis made with bourbon coated red cherries and caramelized apples. Careful though, it's a little hotter than I'd normally serve it."
Fitz cut a piece of the dessert and held it to his lips to blow on it gently before holding it to Olivia's lips. Olivia ate a bite then frowned. "Do you not like it?"
"Not as much as I would like," Olivia replied.
Fitz looked at Stephen. "She doesn't like it. What else you got?"
Stephen quickly removed the tray then set another bowl before her. "Cherries jubilee. I used sherry to intensify the cherries' sweet and tart elements, and made the vanilla ice cream myself with a bit of cinnamon."
Fitz picked up the spoon and fed Olivia a bite, watching her face to make sure she liked this dessert. He smiled when a smile spread across her face. "Do you like this one better?"
"It's incredible."
xxxxx
Fitz wrapped his arm around Olivia's shoulders as they re-entered the restaurant's main room. Most of the people had cleared out but a few stragglers remained. He smirked at one of his attorneys, David Rosen, entertaining what Fitz guessed was a group of lawyers. They were talking spiritedly about something when David spotted Fitz.
"Hey! There's the man!" he whooped, waving Fitz over to his table.
"So this is where all the criminals hang out?" Fitz joked. He turned to Olivia. "Liv, this is the biggest group of shysters in the world and their ring leader David Rosen."
"Says the bootlegger." David laughed then turned to Olivia. "And who's this lovely lady?"
"This is Olivia Pope. I almost hit her with my car tonight," Fits replied with a smile.
Olivia laughed. "We need to come up with a better story for how we met."
"That one doesn't really paint me in the best light, does it?" Fitz asked with a laugh.
Olivia shook her head. "Not really."
"Speaking of cars," David said, "I've got something to show you. Follow me."
They all exited the club and went to the back parking lot where David grinned proudly as he placed his hand on a black Rolls Royce not unlike Fitz's. "Can you believe I've finally got one of my own?"
"Mine's better looking," Fitz boasted. "And it's bigger."
David snickered. "I'm sure that's a matter of opinion."
"So how do we settle this?" Fitz asked.
David looked out at the empty two lane street before them. "Easy. We race 'em."
"What's the bet?"
"Standard agreement." David pulled a roll of money from his pocket and Fitz did the same. Olivia looked on with interest, wondering how much money they were betting.
"Shake on it?" The two men shook hands and Fitz turned to Olivia. "Are you comfortable riding shotgun?"
"I suppose." They walked to his car and Fitz took the keys from his driver then opened the passenger door for Olivia. Olivia climbed inside and put on her seatbelt. She could only imagine what her mother would say about her racing in a luxury car with a bootlegger, assuming Maya could say anything before the idea killed her.
Fitz got in the driver's seat and put on his seatbelt then turned to smile at her. "Don't worry. It's not dangerous to race at this hour. No one's on the road."
"'ll take your word for it."
They followed David's car onto the street and Fitz's driver stood on the yellow divider between the two cars. He raised his handkerchief and Fitz revved his engine, stealing a glance at Olivia. "First one to the stop sign wins. On your mark… Get set… Go!"
Olivia's hair whipped back from her face as Fitz floored his gas pedal and sped down the street. She looked to her left and saw that David was close, only a foot or so behind them.
"You know what I love about this car?" Fitz asked, seemingly unbothered by their speed though Olivia's stomach was quivering.
"What?"
He switched into third gear and to Olivia's surprise, they sped up even more. She gasped, unconsciously reaching for his free hand and clutching it. Fitz smiled, wrapping his fingers around hers. "It's full of surprises."
His thumb rubbing the back of her hand, Olivia felt better. Fitz left the top down and the crisp night wind breezed through her hair. She laughed, her head falling back, as they came to a stop at the stop sign. David's car screeched to a halt beside them a moment later. Fitz grinned at him. "So close, Davie."
"Oh, fuck off," David replied, handing off his roll of money.
"Always a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Rosen." Fitz pulled away from the stop sign and Olivia turned back to wave goodbye. "So where to now, Ms. Pope?"
Olivia shrugged. "I don't know. What else is there to do?"
"We could catch a movie if you want."
"Where could we see a movie at this hour?" She looked at her watch. It was nearly 4 in the morning.
"I have a place."
Olivia blinked at him. "You have a movie theater?"
"Not exactly. It's just a room with a big screen in my apartment. But isn't that really all theaters are, anyway?"
"I suppose you're right."
xxxxx
"Do you want more champagne?" Fitz asked as he led Olivia into the former second bedroom of his penthouse at The Montana, a sprawling apartment building in the middle of Manhattan. "Maybe some strawberries?"
"That sounds lovely," Olivia replied.
Fitz nodded and left, and Olivia left the theater behind him to look around the spacious sunken living room. She took in the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows then turned to look at the rest of the living room. The furniture was white, from the couch to the armchairs to the carpet. Olivia wondered if it was some gangster thing. She frowned at the grand piano's lack of sheet music.
"Do you play?" Fitz asked, announcing his presence in the room. He had been watching her walk around unnoticed for a few minutes, enjoying the completely unstudied grace of her movements.
She smiled. "Very well so I've been told. Do you?"
"Not at all."
"Then why do you have a piano?"
"It was a gift."
Again she wondered what kind of friend would gift another with a piano. She concluded that she was dealing with an economic class whose inhabitants possessed so much that gifts were an eternal conundrum. "What do you give the man who has everything?"
"A piano, apparently." He chuckled softly, watching as she took a seat. She twinkled the keys for a moment then began playing. Fitz wasn't sure he had ever been so enchanted by a woman as he watched her play intently, her small fingers moving gracefully across the keys. He clapped when she finished and Olivia blushed deep crimson. "What's that called?"
"The popular name is Für Elise. It's Beethoven. It's the first piece I ever learned to play completely." She wore a small proud smile. She got up from the bench and followed him into the theater room, taking a seat next to him on the second of the two rows of seats. "What movie are we watching?"
"One of my favorite older movies. Have you ever read Anna Karenina?"
"Yes, many times."
"This movie is based on the book. Greta Garbo's in it."
Olivia smiled. "Oh I love her."
She expected to fall asleep halfway through the movie, having been up all day and night, but she found herself almost giddy as she and Fitz shared strawberries sprinkled with sugar.
XXXXX
The Next Morning
After the movie, Olivia pulled Fitz's jacket tighter around her shoulders to shield herself from the cool morning air as she stood behind the railing surrounding the balcony of Fitz's penthouse in the middle of Manhattan. She never imagined such a clear view of Manhattan existed. She could even see the Hudson River. She turned to look at Fitz. "I don't think I've ever seen a New York sunrise."
"Stay right here. I'll be right back." He disappeared into the apartment then reappeared with a camera.
Olivia bashfully covered her face. "Oh you can't take my picture! I probably look like something the cat dragged in."
Fitz snapped a picture of her hiding her face, smiling behind the camera. "You look beautiful, Livvie. Smile."
Olivia looked up at him in surprise. No one had called her Livvie since she was in saddle shoes. Something about the way he said it made her insides soft and warm. He snapped her picture again and she smiled a moment after the flash. "One more picture then you put that camera away."
"Yes ma'am." He snapped another picture, this one of her smiling as the wind blew the fringe of her dress. After the flash, Olivia turned away from the camera and resumed looking at the sunrise. Fitz couldn't resist taking another picture of her. She wasn't doing anything he could see, except leaning on the balcony railing, seemingly holding the universe together. She turned and smirked over her shoulder and Fitz lowered the camera. Fitz took her picture yet again. "That was the last one."
He took the camera back into his apartment, making a mental note to have the pictures developed, then joined her on the balcony. He smiled when she yawned. "Are you tired? I feel like I've kept you up all night."
Olivia laughed as she pointed to the sun. "It's morning. You did keep me up all night."
"Then I should probably get you home." He stepped closer, his hands in his pockets. "I'd like to kiss you first, though."
Olivia grinned. "Well I don't see anyone who'll stop you."
Fitz took his left hand from his pocket, bringing it up to hold her face as he lowered his lips onto hers. She tasted like sweet strawberries and that alone was enough to drive him wild, but her scent, lilies and lemons and something minty, nearly drove him wild. And her little hands on his shoulders, pulling herself up on the toes of her pumps and pushing her soft lithe frame against his. Was there anything about her that wouldn't make lust jump double dutch in his veins?
A short while later, his driver stood at the curb, waiting for them as they exited the building. The drive to Harrison's apartment was short and Olivia found herself bubbling with butterflies at the prospect of saying goodbye, and a goodbye kiss. But she stopped herself from fantasizing just as quickly as she'd begun. He was a northern gangster, and she was a southern soon-to-be freshman at Mount Holy Oak College for Girls. They would never work. The previous night was just fun.
Fitz smiled when the car came to a stop before her building. "Shall I walk you up?"
Olivia slipped his jacket off. "I can make it alone. I'm sorry about your jacket, though. It smells like me."
When he took it back, he inhaled the scent on it. Lilies and lemons, a surprisingly heady aroma that he knew would remain on the jacket for as long as it could as he wouldn't be washing it any time soon. He wondered what his friends would think of him if they knew he was mooning over a girl he'd met at a party. He'd never hear the end of it. "That's okay."
She got out of the car and he did the same, towering over her in a friendly manner.
"Thanks for last night. It was unforgettable." There were millions of other words Olivia could have come up with for the evening but unforgettable seemed to fit the best. "Have a nice day, Mr. Grant."
Fitz gave a wry smile. "I don't know how nice it'll be. I've been up all night."
"But wasn't it quite the night?" She smiled almost dreamily.
"Best one in years." He couldn't help smiling back. "So can I call you?"
"Why?" She gave a teasing laugh. Olivia had the distinct feeling that she was going to enjoy keeping a man like Fitz on his toes, if only to get him back for doing the same thing to her.
"I think I'm going to miss you at some point today." Fitz couldn't believe he'd admitted such a thing to her.
She blushed as she looked up at him then rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. "I think I'll miss you too."
She gave him her number then went into the house, blushing when she looked back to find him leaning against his car, watching her with a smile.
xxxxx
Olivia was awakened by rapid knocking at her door. She pulled her face from her pillow, lifting her sleep mask. "Harrison get the door!"
Harrison rolled off the couch, still dressed in his rumpled suit after spending the night in jail with a dozen party-goers, and threw the door open. A freckle-faced delivery boy stood before him, holding a small box stacked atop a larger one. "Is there an Olivia Pope here?"
Harrison nodded then turned toward the closed bedroom door. "Liv it's for you!"
Olivia tumbled out of bed, pulling on her silk robe, then schlepped out of her bedroom. She blinked sleepily at the delivery boy. "Yes?"
"Special delivery from Mr. Grant." He produced a note from his pocket and handed it to her. Olivia opened it, taking note of the monogram adorning the front in gold leaf. She smiled at the slanted handwriting, guessing that Fitz was left-handed.
Livvie,
I couldn't find your wrap in the club so I got you a new one. I hope you like it. I got you a scarf too. It's French silk, made by the same designer that makes my shirts. They've got a new line for women that I think you'd like. I'd like to show it to you if you'd like to see it. I'll call you after I've had some sleep.
Olivia read the note twice before she remembered that the delivery boy and Harrison were looking at her. She looked up and took the boxes. "Can you stay here a moment while I go write Mr. Grant a thank you note?"
"I've been instructed to do whatever you say, ma'am," the delivery boy answered. Harrison stepped back and let the boy inside then went back to the couch and lay on the couch.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said then rolled over.
Olivia took the boxes into her room then went to Harrison's desk to retrieve a notecard from her own monogrammed stationary. She sat down and found a pen.
Fitz,
You didn't have to replace my wrap. Or buy me what I'm guessing is a rather expensive scarf. Especially since you saved me from a night in jail and showed me such a wonderful time. You're much too kind, really. I promise to call to thank you. Thank you for the gifts, and again for last night.
XOXO, Liv
She gave the delivery boy the note then sent him on his way with a dollar in his pocket. She went back into her bedroom and moved the boxes to the desk then collapsed on the bed again. She wasn't sure if it was the champagne or the lack of sleep, but she couldn't imagine lifting the lids off the boxes, not when her head weighed a ton.
"So you spent last night with the biggest gangster in the city." Harrison's voice made her lift her head to squint at him sleepily.
"He almost hit me with his car. I ruined his silk handkerchief. We ate at a restaurant. We raced in his Rolls-Royce. We saw a movie. It was fun. Goodnight." She dropped her head back on the pillow.
"Are you going to see him again?"
Olivia lifted her head and squinted at him again. "Every chance I get. Goodnight."
"Please tell me you're not in love with him."
Olivia bit her pillow to keep from screaming. She lifted her head a third time. "Okay I won't tell you. Goodnight."
"Goodnight." Harrison left the room and went back to the couch, wondering how he would explain Olivia's latest hijinks.
xxxxx
It was nearly 9 when Fitz's phone rang. He got up from his chair on the balcony then went inside, hoping it was the call he'd been waiting all day for. He picked up the phone. "Hello."
"Good evening, Mr. Grant." His grin widened at the sound of her voice. "Did you get my note?"
"Yes ma'am." Her note sat on his dresser, placed there after he'd read it several times and inhaled the scent of lilies and lemons on it. "So what are you doing this evening?"
"I don't know. I don't have any plans as of yet. But it's still early. The sun hasn't even gone down yet so anything is possible."
"Well if you're not too tired from last night, would you like to do it again?"
"Which part? Running from the police or stuffing myself silly or racing or watching movies?"
"We could do it all if you want," he replied with a laugh. "Or we could do something else. Have you ever been to Turks and Caicos?"
"No."
"Should we go then?"
Olivia laughed. "That's an awfully extravagant second date, Mr. Grant."
"Not really. It would only be a week or two. That's hardly any time at all when you're on an island so beautiful."
Olivia laughed again. "You're crazy. What would I tell my mother when she doesn't hear from me for two whole weeks?"
"Tell her I kidnapped you. I'm a bad guy. I could pull off something like that." He smiled when she laughed.
"I'll need time to pack." It wouldn't take her long to pack. She would be spending the majority of her time contemplating what she was doing running off to an island she'd never heard of with a criminal whom she'd only met the night before.
"Just pack for the boat. I'll buy you new clothes on the island."
"You've already bought me a new wrap and a scarf."
"I could buy the island and we could walk around naked if that would suit you better."
Olivia laughed. "Exactly how rich are you, Mr. Grant?"
"Let's just say I have more money than I know what to do with."
"Enough to whisk girls away to islands for weeks at a time?"
He laughed. "I suppose so. Will you come then?"
"Well," she paused, keeping him on his toes, "I suppose there's nothing too terribly exciting set to go on for the next week or so."
"That's not a yes."
"It wasn't a no."
"Say yes."
Olivia laughed. "I'll say whatever I want, thank you."
"You have the sassiest mouth," he teased.
"Do I?"
"Yes. It's cute but a bit confusing. I don't know whether I want to kiss you or kill you."
"I'm sure you'll figure something out."
"Two weeks should be enough time to do that."
A/N: Don't forget to review! XOXO