Chapter 1
She was sipping Bordeaux from her wine glass, eyes glued to her flat screen when the text tone went off. Before grabbing the phone, her eyes dropped to her watch.
2:18 A.M.
She grimaced. Texts at this hour usually didn't mean good news.
Leaning forward, she picked up her cell. Upon reading the number, her frown deepened.
Hamptons in Columbia tomorrow. 3PM. My treat.
She reread it two times before discarding the phone on the couch.
Five minutes passed. The rerun of the criminal drama failed to hold her attention. She scanned her living room, pausing when she located the bottle of wine. Half of the contents still remained. Snatching the bottle, she peered at the liquid. Without hesitation, she brought it to her lips and downed the contents in under thirty seconds.
He never comes to me. I always go to him.
This stray thought replayed in her head until the drowsiness kicked in.
She passed out on the couch ten minutes later.
x_X_x_X_x
By 2PM, the day was humid. She considered wearing lighter clothing, but that would give him an excuse to look at her longer than necessary. Talking to him was nauseating enough.
She chose a pair of dark jeans and a gray button up shirt. For good measure, a black cardigan overtop.
At a quarter to three, she pulled up to the hotel. After mentioning her name to the valet, she left him her keys and sought out the outdoor restaurant on the 18th floor. As she rode the elevator up, she pretended her heart wasn't pumping faster than usual. She also pretended she was happy. If this meeting meant what she thought it did, it'd be an extra few grand in her pocket. Maybe even five digits. As much as she loathed him, he had a habit of paying her well.
It wasn't difficult to spot him. He lounged in a chair at the furthest table from the bar, eyes glued to his phone. She tried not to be shaken by the fact that the entire restaurant was empty. In fact, other than a bartender wiping down some wine glasses, the terrace was completely empty.
Just get this over with.
She approached him with a smile that made her lips ache. When she was only a few feet away, he finally looked up.
"Miss Pope, what a lovely surprise!" He pocketed his phone and stood, offering her his large hand.
Reluctantly, she shook it, making sure to maintain eye contact with him. He hated when her attention wasn't on him during conversation.
"Mr. Doyle, a pleasure," Olivia said.
Surprise my ass. You knew I'd come.
"Sit, sit," he gestured, falling back into the chair. "Haven't seen ya in a coon's age. Not since...oh, what was it...the job in Boston. Paid ya a pretty penny for that too."
"You did," she agreed, evening out her expression. "I was surprised to get your text. I thought you said Boston was the last time you'd need my services."
Hollis laughed heartily, shaking his head.
"Sweetheart, me too. If my people were more competent, Boston woulda been the last you heard from me. Though, can't say it's all bad. I get to see your pretty face."
Her smile slipped back on. "That's kind of you."
Years of dealing with this man allowed her to sound genuinely thankful for the compliment.
"Much as I'd love to catch up, I got a proposition for ya."
"Am I allowed to say no?"
His next laugh was louder than the one before. Olivia wanted to punch the smugness off his face.
"Course ya are, honey. Don't know why ya would."
The grin he wore disappeared in the blink of an eye.
"What can I do for you?" she asked politely.
Hollis studied her with a hard squint. She didn't sever his gaze, instead, attempting to appear bored. She knew it was a pet peeve of his. Surrounded by people who hung on to his every word, Hollis Doyle hated apathy. That emotion came to Olivia naturally and she utilized it whenever she could around the man, if only to ruffle his feathers.
"Let me buy ya something to drink," he finally said. "Whiskey on the rocks, if I remember correctly?"
She didn't protest as he barked out her order to the bartender. A minute later and the bartender set the glass down in front of her.
"That'll be all," Hollis dismissed.
His lack of an alcoholic beverage uneased her, but before that unease could surface, she took a sip from the glass, enjoying the burn coursing through her.
"In all the years we've known each other, can ya believe I've never asked about your political affiliations?"
Olivia shrugged. "I figured you wouldn't like my answer."
"That sounds suspiciously Democratic."
She didn't answer, instead, taking another sip from her glass.
"Speak freely, Olivia. I won't get offended."
Her brows rose at this.
"Scout's honor," he said, raising a hand.
"Freely," she repeated. "Politics haven't been for the people in a long time. I rarely participate. As the saying goes, if voting changed anything, they'd make it illegal."
Hollis seemed surprised. "Never viewed you as a cynic."
That's because you know nothing about me.
"Can you blame me?"
"S'pose not," he agreed, tapping his fingers arrhythmically against the table. "I'm glad you're objective about this platform. It'll make the assignment I'm givin' ya that much easier."
She downed the rest of her drink before speaking.
"That assignment being?"
He didn't immediately respond, instead, opting to pull a folder out of a black briefcase by his feet.
"How's Miss Whelan's case goin'?"
Stunned, Olivia redirected her gaze to her lap. Inhaling slowly, she composed herself with a tight smile.
"Fine."
Hollis eyed her with a raised brow.
"Don't get me wrong, you're a miracle worker. But I don't think even you got the capacity to get her off."
Olivia clasped her hands together. Tight.
"I didn't realize you were checking up on me."
He shrugged. The smile he wore was one of his more disingenuous ones.
"You're an important friend to me, Olivia. I like knowin' what's goin' on in your life."
What a load of shit.
"Miss Whelan's case is a work in progress."
He chuckled, but the sound never left his throat.
"Murder's a tough sell on a jury, even if it's justified. The prosecutor will tear her apart soon as they grill her on the amount she drank that night."
Olivia debated on how to respond. Hollis bringing Abby Whelan up wasn't unintentional. The fact that he knew some of the more sensitive details of the case, all but confirmed this. Unfortunately, she couldn't figure out what his motive was. To intimidate her? Make it known he kept tabs on her?
"You're probably wonderin' Miss Whelan's relevance to the conversation."
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her own emotions were tangled up in the case. The last thing she needed was for Hollis to know that.
"Upon your acceptance of this assignment, as a show of good faith, I'll ensure Miss Whelan is released within the week."
Her shock was brief. Suspicion, a lifelong friend, immediately re-examined what was just said.
"What's the assignment?"
Ultimately, that's what it came down to. Hollis knew, despite his intimidation tactics, that she still had the capability to turn the assignment down. Abby was a bargaining chip. Sadly, it was a damn good one.
Wordlessly, Hollis offered her the folder. Olivia stiffly took it and thumbed it open.
The content was unexpectedly dull compared to what her imagination conceived. She was expecting something illegal; cartels, traffickers, black market activity as the worst case scenario.
Instead, paper-clipped to the first page was a photo of the President of the United States. Olivia couldn't immediately recall his name. She hadn't been lying when she told Hollis politics weren't an arena she frequented with.
The paper his photo was attached to, clarified her ignorance.
Fitzgerald Grant III.
48.
Spouse: Mellie Grant.
Children (1): Jerry Grant Jr.
Olivia continued reading the first page, brows drawing together. It was nothing more than general information about the President and his family. Information anyone could pull off the internet.
"I don't get it," she said, looking up after finishing the page. "If you're looking to get him assassinated, you've grossly misjudged my capabilities."
Hollis's full-bellied laugh momentarily caught the attention of the bartender. Olivia patiently waited for it to recede.
"Oooh, that's a good one," he remarked, wiping at his eye. "You should know by now, I got qualified people for that."
She knew, but it was a fact about him she chose to ignore for the sake of her conscience.
"No, my request is much more harmless. I'd like ya to get to know President Grant."
Her eyes dropped to the file.
"I just did."
He wasn't amused by the blatant answer. His narrowed gaze said as much.
"My confidants in the White House tell me President Grant and his wife have yet to sleep in the same bed. In fact, her bedroom's in the opposite wing from his. 'Course they play happy couple for the cameras."
Olivia didn't like where this conversation was heading.
"Their marriage is on the rocks," he continued. "Hell, probably been that way long before he secured the White House. Naturally, I can't decline the opportunity to capitalize on this information."
He stared at her without blinking. "I'd like you to get to know President Grant."
Her mouth dropped open. "Mr. Doyle-?"
"Back to formalities? Olivia, we know each other better than that."
He was cornering her. If his words weren't doing so, his unwavering gaze certainly was.
"If I'm to understand correctly," she sounded out, "you want me to what-seduce him?"
"Seduce him, tempt him, lasso his libido- I hardly care what you wanna call it. Ensure things between you two become intimate and on top of helping you out with Miss Whelan, I'll deposit a cozy two million in your bank account."
The number lingered in her head much longer than she was proud of. Then again, she had never been offered such a significant amount of money before. Two million. It was enough to provide much needed renovations to her life.
"This is the President of the United States," Olivia stated. "What makes you think he'd ever let his guard down enough to cheat on his wife?"
"Callin' Mellie Grant his wife is like callin' a whore an angel," Hollis said, unperturbed by her skepticism. "And let's just say he's been known to have a wandering eye."
For the first time in a long while, Olivia was speechless. She had never considered herself a holier than thou person. In fact, a majority of her past actions could be considered morally gray at best, borderline unethical at worst. All done for a paycheck. Which probably made her a worse person. But she'd accepted those feelings about herself long ago. The world wasn't always fair, she learned early on. You either adapt or you die. She chose to adapt.
Accepting this assignment would twist her moral compass into uncharted territory.
She wasn't new to flirtation. Some of her best paychecks were earned through adopting a doe-eyed, damsel in distress persona. Men seemed to love playing the role of knight in shining armor.
However, none of the encounters ever resorted to sexual relations. She had a limit to what she was willing to do to achieve her, and indirectly, her employer's goals. That's a part of what made her so efficient. Rarely did she ever need to get her hands dirty.
This assignment would not only dirty her hands, but pollute what little ethics she still had.
Was it worth it?
Abby will be free. She doesn't deserve to rot in prison for half of her life.
Loathe as Olivia was to admit it, Hollis was right. The prosecution had a sturdy case because Abby indulged in a few drinks earlier in the day prior to killing her abusive bastard of a husband. That wasn't something she could fix no matter the amount of bruises and injuries Abby showed the jury.
Two million. It's enough to relocate. Leave this life behind.
Olivia closed her eyes. It'd been a while since she despised herself this much. To not only consider accepting, but know deep down, it was out of selfishness.
And that's why Hollis Doyle went to her, she realized. Give this assignment to a less ethical person than her and he ran the risk of Grant not falling for the bait. Give the assignment to someone more ethical than her and he ran the risk of Grant finding out he was being set up.
In some ways, she was neutrality personified. And Hollis knew exactly what to offer so she didn't stray from this alignment.
"Gonna need an answer soon, sweetheart."
Her eyes slid open, landing on the open folder.
He's handsome, I'll give him that.
Unwilling to decipher her conflicting feelings any further, Olivia exhaled.
"I accept."