Prologue
"Hussy," he whispers under his breath, from the corner hoping nobody notices. Of course I notice. The corners of my eyes become grainy with unshed tears for a moment, but I quickly replace it with a blank face awaiting their responses. "Congratulations," Mellie smiles broadly, but I notice the iciness in her eyes and the tightness of her smile. Nevertheless, I smile and hug her back. Cyrus has yet to speak and I know it's because he suspects the father is standing in the room. I won't give him the satisfaction of giving anything away. Finally, he looks at me, glances down at my stomach then back up to my face, then quickly at the man who has yet to officially say anything. "I'm happy for you," he says almost sincerely, but I can see the sadness and disappointment in his eyes. I smile and nod my thanks.
Minutes pass before the man standing in the corner looks up, as if realizing that we are all still here. There is emptiness in his eyes that has never been there before as he looks at Cyrus and Mellie, assuming I wouldn't notice. "We need the room," he says quietly.
Nobody moves, afraid of what the POTUS will do. When he realizes we aren't obeying him, the small vein in his neck starts to throb and he glares down at Mellie and Cyrus with a look that could freeze a lion about to pounce on its prey, "We need the room," he roars, catching everyone, but me off guard. He has a tell when he is fuming.
Mellie and Cyrus have no choice but to exit the room, preferring the consciences of the fixer and the POTUS in a room together rather than deal with a ragging president. As the door quietly closed, I rounded on him. My open hand connects with his check with a gratifying 'thump', as his cheek turns red from the force of the hit.
His eyes go from anger to hurt and back again in a matter of seconds, but I don't care. He doesn't get to make me feel sorry, not this time anyway. "You just slapped the President of the United States of America," he whispers quietly. I know I should feel ashamed about that, but I don't.
"You are despicable," I seethe, suppressing the urge to slap the other side of irritating face. "You don't get to say that about me, you have no right," I snap, not allowing him to get a word in. "Who cares what I do, you are married," I emphasize the last word, hoping to hurt him as deeply as he hurt me.
"Livvie how-," I hold up my hand, I can feel myself starting to shake and I hate how out of control he makes me feel.
"No, don't Livvie me, you don't get to do that, you don't get to say that and defend yourself," my voice gets louder and less shaky as I continue. "We aren't together Fitz. We never were. You're married," I emphasize again, hoping he will get the point as I yell at the floor because I can't look into those gray eyes, they'll make me crumble. I have to be strong, not just for me anymore either..
"What we had was childish and stupid and purely physical," I trail off, running my hand through my thick, unruly hair, slowly running out of steam. But being exhausted and running on fumes of anger is dangerous, it leaves me vulnerable and at his mercy. I'm not ready for that, as far as I'm concerned, I'll never be ready for that. My heart can't ever bear that.
So I don't. I fight against my exhaustion to keep him from speaking, "I was just one of many, don't think I'm that naïve Mr. President because we both know that's a lie. Just because I was gone don't think I didn't know about Amanda Tanner and the countless others," my hand flicks the air as if slapping for a fly, "Don't think for one second I didn't hesitate to destroy her, all of them for," but I can't finish the sentence, I can't lie to myself anymore. I can't say it anymore. There is no possible way for me to admit there had ever been an us, there couldn't have been. It's just that simple. I was breaking and couldn't keep myself together anymore; it horrified me.
The tension in the air was tightening and I know Fitz won't be able to keep quiet for long. He is a politician after all, he would always defend himself. But I am weak, too frail. I'm not ready to face what he has to say, so I continue.
Babbling and babbling, like verbal diarrhea, unable to stop because I secretly hope that if I keep going I'll hurt him like I had been hurt, "You cheated on your mistress with your girlfriend. You," I jab my finger into his chest, not realizing he is so close, "Can't judge me, you have no right," the flames of anger that have burned in me for months are being extinguished though, and I end up just whispering the last part.
"Livvie," he starts again, stepping forward, I step back. "Please," it is a plead, a plead I don't know what for. He tries stepping closer and I simultaneously step back. We play in limbo for seconds, minutes, hours. Forward and back, forward and back, until I am pressed against a wall with nowhere else to retreat to. He is closer than before, I can smell his clean, musky scent. He is so close, I can see his chest rise and fall from labored breathing from trying to control himself and his muscles contract under his thin shirt. It drives me wild.
"Please Livvie," he whispers, his sweet breath washing over me. Again, I don't know what he is asking for but in that moment I would do anything for him because I am pathetic and hate to see him beg. I try my hardest to hide it, but I know I fail miserably.
"Look at me."
It wasn't a question to his pleading anymore, it was a statement. Those three words bring my resolve back in place and I feel in control, like I can almost survive with him thinking those horrid thoughts about me.
I know he realizes it too because he instantly stiffens, but doesn't move. "Look at me," he presses again, trying to get closer and I instantly bristled, shaking my head again, being stubborn. As much as I told myself that is why I won't look at him, I know it was because I am afraid my resolve would crumble- my heart can't take looking at him, hurting. His expressive gray eyes can make me tell him anything. I can't do that, it is too dangerous for reasons I refuse to evaluate.
"Look at me dammit," he slams his fist into the wall beside my head making me jump. Anger! I can deal with his anger, it is everything else. Everything else is too messy, too complicated.
The next time he grabs my chin, yanking it up. I still keep my eyes downcast though, and I can tell it is killing him not being able to see my eyes.
It is happening before I can stop it. The president is pushing me further into the wall crushing his lips to mine. I can feel his lithe, muscular body holding me captive as our lips touch. It's electric. I remember how perfect we were, all the happy moments we had together, how much love there was. But it only took me a moment to push him away too. He doesn't protest like I assumed he would and it shocks me. Finally, I look at him and he sees the unbidden lust there and that is all the ammunition he need.
After all these months of me being blank and distant, showing him my emotions unwillingly did unsettling things to me. The smug expression playing at the corner of his mouth sends me over the edge. He knows that if he keeps pushing he'll get me to show my cards. My itching hand gets the chance to slap the smug expression off his face, and it is the most satisfying feeling of my life.
Rubbing his other cheek, he doesn't take so lightly to it this time. His anger is back in full force. Unfortunately, I can't look away from him, and I know I am going to be burned, and badly. At this moment he is so full of passion and life and fire and energy, he is mesmerizing. "Dammit Olivia," Fitz speaks deathly calm despite his spiraling emotions and smoldering gray eyes, "You," he says it like it leaves a putrid taste in his mouth, "Have no right to say jack shit about what happened," spitting my words back at me. "You know it was never just about sex Olivia, how dare you call yourself a mistress," his face screws up in disgust again at the mention of the word, "That's such bullshit and.." he shakes his head defeated.
"Mr. President," I sigh, truly exhausted, this time he cuts me off though. Our roles are reversed and I don't know how to act. It's a risky game to give him the upper hand, especially when you are playing with fire.
"Olivia just shut the hell up," Fitz said, glaring at me as he pushes off the wall to pace in front of me, running both hands through his unruly hair. I look at him, astonished, his emotions are more tangled then mine.
Watching him closely, I notice him going between rage and misery. He can't decide which emotion to unleash on me. That scares me. I can handle anger. But depression..sadness? Those emotions not only scare me- they petrify me
Finally he decides one. It isn't the right one. "Livvie," he whispers, trapping me against the wall again, looking defeated, "Is it mine?"
The question hangs in the air between us for several minutes. My eyes that had previously been looking into his bright gray ones immediately drop as my teeth grasp my full bottom lip.
I silently kick myself, knowing my reaction gives me away. He wants to hear me say that it is his, but I won't. It is better to lie, for everyone involved. My silly mistake doesn't just affect Fitz and me, it affects the whole country. So I have to, I have no choice.
Getting my emotions in check, I look back up at Fitz with a cold, hard look in my eyes. Pushing against Fitz's chest, he moves back immediately, like I burned him. Walking towards the door, I don't look back until I am turning the knob.
I answer with one word, looking into his eyes as I say it. The look he gives me tells that I have just ripped his heart out, but I have to pretend like this isn't killing me just as much as it is him.
"No," I whisper and walk out.
A/N: I know nobody ever really takes the time to read these things, but in case you do, I have several things to cover. A) Thanks for reading! And hey, if you review, you are technically a writer too! How cool is that? B) I have to important people to thank for making this story as good as it could be.. babycakesbriauna for editing and amaryllis214 for pre-reading. You guys rock! C) If you aren't reading the above authors stories, DO SO NOW! They are very good and won't disappoint. D) This is a prologue to a story, so the next installment will be where our little tale starts, so don't get confused! E) I'm done. So become a writer too and review please! F) Ooops, one more thing, have a splendid day and I hope a little Fitz and Liv throw down can surely brighten your day!
