Mutual Entrapment
"Fitz….Oh Fitz….Oh gawd…Oh..my…gawd…Shit!"
Fitz could feel when she finally came and he followed after her but he couldn't share her sense of elation and satisfaction. He was far from ecstatic about their hookup. He needed the release but being with her cheapened the experience. He had treated her well this evening, done the things she liked – dinner and the opera. But still, in the end, he had to take her from behind because he could no longer look at her face…not tonight.
He wasn't satisfied at all. He was spent but not satisfied.
He pulled out and watched as she crawled into bed, purring like a kitten, "That was good Fitz, as always. I'm so glad you called." She nestled under the covers and looking around said, "Is that painting new? I haven't seen it here before."
"No, it's not new. It's from another part of the house," he responded.
"But I thought all your other paintings were stolen," she continued curiously, yawning all the while.
He didn't respond. Instead he started walking toward the bathroom to remove his condom, now a bit annoyed with even the sound of her voice.
She heard him wash his hands and then turn on the shower. "Aren't you coming to bed?" she called out. He closed the door behind him.
Fitz looked in the mirror at himself. What was he doing? Normally, he would have easily climbed into bed with her, slept the night through, knowing she would likely be gone before he even arose. He and Tiffany were evenly matched; neither looking for commitment, content with being 'fuck-buddies'. A non-verbal agreement to call each other whenever the mood arose; without reprisal, judgment or pressure for deep, morning after discussions about their feelings.
The steam from the shower fogged the mirror. He could no longer see himself. He got in the shower and stood under the hot water; letting it burn his skin. He didn't want this. He didn't want to feel connected to Olivia, but he did. He didn't want to feel the guilt of being with other women, but he did. He could barely get it up without images popping in his head of soft mocha skin and doe eyes staring back at him. The full lips he almost tasted but he restrained himself; held on to his self-control and instead of carrying her to his bed that night, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and retreated back to his room. This time with the door closed.
Would she have stopped him? The question was on a constant loop in his head. He could read the signs and despite her protestations and the cat-and-mouse game they played, he knew she wanted him just as much as he did her. He had never before denied himself a willing woman. And this shift in thinking gave him pause.
He quickly scrubbed Tiffany's scent off him in the shower and dressed. To focus his mind on something productive, he was going in to work; the extra hours would help find purpose again.
He smirked as he put on his watch. It had been two days and he could still smell Olivia's scent in his bedroom. He hadn't seen her since that night and she hadn't returned his phone calls. He stopped calling after the third message, figuring if she wanted to see him, she would let him know. He would let her guide their personal relationship, while professionally he continued to stay one step ahead.
He was walking out of the room when he heard snoring from the lady in his bed; his last thought making him wonder if he would ever call Tiffany again.
XXX
"What the hell is this, Fitz!?"
Fitz was disturbed from his thoughts by Cyrus entering his office with bluster as he threw a file on his desk. He was so used to Cyrus' dramatics that he only turned slightly from the window to acknowledge his presence before turning back to enjoy his view. He had no idea how long he had been standing there; he could get lost in the vision of the city unfolding beneath him.
"What do you want Cyrus?" he asked calmly.
"Do you know what this is?" Cyrus didn't allow Fitz to respond but continued in his tirade. "It's a file from the PD…Why didn't you tell me that you are now the primary suspect in the investigation?!...How long have you known about this?"
Still unfazed by information he already knew, Fitz easily responded, "I knew Cyrus and I'm handling it."
It frustrated Cyrus when Fitz didn't get as worked up as he did about important matters. Fitz seemed to handle everything in stride, rarely getting excited, which Cyrus mistook for disinterest. In reality though Fitz was always thinking, always strategizing; it was like the game of chess and he would always have a move left to make.
"And this insurance investigator…What's her name? Olivia Pope…Am I to understand you're handling her too?...Fitz, I can't protect you if I don't know what's going on!"
Still Fitz said nothing.
"We need to close down the warehouse…relocate everything to a safer location."
"Not yet."
Cyrus took a deep breath, trying to calm his temper. "Fitz, listen, you have to let me help you."
Fitz finally turned around and addressed Cyrus face to face. His voice was cold and unyielding, "You know how you can help me…keep Mellie in line. The leash you have on her is losing its grip. She's scared and she's going to do something stupid, very stupid. She's yours…keep her in line."
XXX
In all the years he worked with Jake Ballard, Charlie had learned to overlook a lot. There was an unwritten code between partners; a bond that was loyal and trustworthy. So Charlie ignored the witness tampering, the falsified evidence and the illegal searches simply because the end result seemed to justify the methods he took to get criminals off the streets. They were what he excused as 'shortcuts', a way to work around the law so that eventually the law could work for the people in the right way.
But this case was different. Ever since Olivia Pope came to town and began investigating the case, his partner developed an unhealthy fascination with her and it was heightened when it appeared that she had some sort of romantic entanglement with Grant. Fitzgerald Grant had entered Jake's cross-hairs and, right or wrong, there was no way he was going to let him go.
"I just want to go on record that I was against this from the beginning."
"Noted….now can you shut the hell up!" Jake was getting annoyed with Charlie constantly second guessing him. He drove faster to their destination. He tried to hide his excitement but he couldn't wait. This was his opportunity to catch Grant. He knew the Grant burglary was staged. Grant himself had put on the elaborate ruse and Jake knew once he found the supposed stolen merchandise he would be able to prove it.
In order to get the warrant, Jake reported that street surveillance cameras recorded an un-marked white van leaving Grant's home around the time of the burglary. He claimed that it took some time to locate it based on the partial license plate but once they found the match, the ownership was traced back to Grant Industries and it was stored in a warehouse in West Hills.
Charlie shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat. He knew this was a colossal mistake but out of loyalty to his partner he said nothing to the Lieutenant. Jake was blinded by his jealousy and although most of what he reported to get the warrant was supposition, not fact, Jake was still determined to make this lead to an arrest warrant for Grant.
When they arrived, Jake showed the security guard the warrant and brushed past him without further explanation. He directed some of the officers to go around back while he went through the front.
"Paydirt," Jake smiled as he pointed to two white vans parked inside. The vans were completely empty but Jake was not discouraged. He continued to search the warehouse, boasting, "You see Charlie, sometimes you just have to go with your gut…your instinct will tell you everything. And my instinct tells me that we will find everything we need here."
"Detective Ballard, over here!" an officer called out. They both ran to the back of the warehouse and found multiple crates filled with what they thought were boxed up paintings.
One of the officers handed Jake a crane to open the wooden boxes figuring that he wanted to do the honors. The smile widened on his face; justice would be served; he finally had Grant exactly where he wanted him. He would remember this moment; it had to be savored. This was the turning point. Next stop, Fitzgerald Grant in handcuffs on the evening news.
Over the next 10 minutes, Charlie watched as his partner went from brazen, arrogant gloating to a maniacal rampage. There was nothing in the warehouse illegal or incriminating. None of the crates contained paintings. Not a single one. Jake opened two, then three more, then four more; practically destroying all of the picture frames manufactured in China and being sold by one of Grant Industries subsidiary companies.
Chest heaving in defeat, it took all of Jake's composure to walk out of the warehouse without reacting to the humiliating event. He knew they all wanted to laugh at him. He looked like a fool in front of his peers and they would never let him live this down. He even noted several officers took a snapshot with their phones of him holding up the picture frames in disbelief.
His face burned red, hot like fire. This would only fuel him to work harder. He had one goal and one goal only – not only would he take Grant down but he would humiliate him in the worse way possible.
XXX
"Are you serious right now?!" Harrison said fiercely in a whispered tone after Olivia removed her wrap and allowed him to check it for her.
Olivia smiled wickedly behind her mask as she watched Harrison look her up and down in admiration. She had on an off the shoulder floor length Zuhair Murad black lace sheer gown that provocatively accented Olivia's curves while giving the illusion of nudity underneath. With her hair swept to the side and cascading curls, she looked a vision.
She adjusted her elbow length gloves. Taking Harrison's arm, she said, "It's just a dress Harrison."
"That…that is not a dress, it's a weapon. It's a tool meant to bring men to their knees. It's torture. It is not just a dress."
"Then, just be happy I'm not using it on you," she teased.
Harrison cleared his throat and in a choked voice said, "Remind me again why we never went out."
Olivia laughed and said, "Because two minutes into our first date, we'd end up killing each other….now let's go find our seats."
Harrison adjusted his mask and nodded in agreement. He and Olivia got along like brother and sister; they weren't romantically compatible in the least.
Thanks to Huck's computer hacking abilities, they were added to the guest list at the last minute, securing their attendance at the Arts and Humanities Charity Foundation Masquerade Ball.
Once they checked in, Harrison guided her to the table they were assigned to. "I am seriously going to get lynched tonight," he joked as he watched all the stares they were receiving, mainly from the male population.
"Don't worry Harrison, I won't let them hurt you," Olivia responded lightly.
Even behind her glittered Venetian Masquerade Mask, it didn't take long for Olivia to spot Fitz and as soon as their eyes locked it was as if no one else in the room existed or mattered. Somehow the sexual charge between them was impassioned with half of their faces hidden. Fitz looked amazing in his tux; everything about him screamed sexuality. She expected him to look extremely handsome but she did not expect her body to react in such a carnal, lustful way.
He smirked at her; she smiled in return. She knew he was upset that she had avoided his calls but she also knew her inaccessibility heightened his attraction to her.
She understood the type of man Fitz was. The more available a woman was to him; the more he used her for his needs and quickly discarded her. She would not be one of those women for him.
Fitz watched her walk in the banquet room and every other thought he had dissipated into a fog. It felt like he hadn't seen her in years; he was so thirsty for her presence. She was the most beautiful creature he had seen in his life and it wasn't just physical beauty; everything about her was like a magnet drawing him in, largely against his will. He didn't like the fact that she ignored him but he had to admit, the fact that she wasn't fawning all over him, like most women did, made him crave her even more.
He only gave a passing glance to the man she was with. Fitz knew him to be her associate and therefore held him of no consequence.
"Good evening Olivia….And you are Harrison Wright, is that correct?" Fitz said in introduction once they met at the table they would be sharing for dinner. The men shook hands in introduction as Harrison greeted him in return. Fitz shook Olivia's hand and held on it for too long; it was too familiar and Olivia reminded him that he had a woman on his arm that had yet to be introduced to them.
Duly chastised, Fitz quickly introduced his date, all the while not taking his eyes off of Olivia, "I apologize…this is Jillian. Jillian this is Olivia Pope and Harrison Wright." Despite the woman's presence, Olivia felt no jealousy. Jillian was a beauty, as expected, but Olivia knew the woman was just someone on his arm – a placeholder of sorts. The women greeted each other politely, although an awkward silence followed thereafter.
Olivia turned to Harrison and suggested they go to the bar and get a drink.
"I hope you know what you're doing…that man looks at you like prey," Harrison said skeptically as they walked to the bar.
Olivia smiled at him. "It's what I'm counting on. There has to be blood in the water for sharks to be attracted."
Sitting across the table from Fitz at dinner was a little unnerving for Olivia. She found him staring at her at the oddest moments; his intense blue eyes seem to glow, powerful in an aura of light and unencumbered by his mask. It was almost hypnotic. Conversations continued to float around them. Olivia and Fitz skillfully able to add a word or two when necessary but never fully committing to anyone but each other.
"Fitz, let's dance," Jillian cut through, suddenly very uncomfortable that her date's attention was completely captivated by another woman. Fitz cleared his throat, smiled at Olivia and easily obliged. "Of course," he responded.
XXX
Harrison quickly discarded his mask and put it in the breast pocket of his tuxedo as he left the building out the back way and continued walking down the dark city street until he came to the black van at the far end of the block. He got in the back and quickly closed the door behind him.
"Did you get that dress for her?" he asked Quinn.
Quinn smiled back and proudly said, "I helped."
He shook his head. "I hope she knows what she's doing," he repeated again. Even he could see that Olivia had crossed the professional line and had personal feelings for Fitzgerald Grant.
"She does. She'll get it done," Abby said confidently as she handed Harrison a bag with clothes to change into.
"Police scanners?" he asked as he started changing clothes.
"Nothing…seems our little friend got benched for a while for that stupid warehouse raid….Idiot," Huck chastised.
Harrison laughed. "Let's just get there before they do…We don't need any surprises or mess ups. With any luck, we will be finished with this job tonight and then it won't be long before we can go home."
Everyone but Quinn nodded. She secretly hoped it would take a little while longer for them to find the painting. She had her own personal reasons for staying.
XXX
"You're avoiding me."
Fitz felt his shoulders tense at the sound of her voice.
He had deliberately stayed clear of Olivia for the rest of the evening. He stayed on the farthest side of the room, forcing himself to remain engaged in several conversations with acquaintances. He kept his back to her, trying to pretend her presence was not affecting every part of him.
He was surrounded by a group of men discussing some boring topic but he feigned interest. He nodded at all the right moments and gave simple responses to questions directed at him. It was a way to pass the time; a way to occupy his mind from constant thoughts of her. It wasn't working.
The prideful smile on her face told him that she knew how much she enraptured him.
"Dance with me," he said quickly and took her by surprise. She didn't have time to respond before he was leading her to the dance floor. He heard her gasp when he pulled her flush against his body and held her securely in position. The unexpected closeness was something she was not prepared for. The mixture of his alluring scent, the determination in his eyes, the menacing appearance of his face behind his mask and the overall hardness of his body were making her lose focus. She was losing control.
She took deep breaths to gather her thoughts. "I saw your date leave….She was sick? I'm sorry about that." She had regulated her voice to sound cool and unattached; the total opposite of what she was feeling inside.
"Yes, all of a sudden she became terribly ill," he looked down at her and smiled, "You're not sorry and you should not be proud of doing that to her."
He was right, she should not be proud of what she had done but she was. It wasn't a personal attack; it was a necessary one. She smiled back, "I see that you did not leave with her."
"I am doing exactly what you want me to do…staying at the party."
"And why would you think I wanted you to abandon your date and stay here?" she queried innocently.
There was a low rumble of laughter she felt vibrate from his chest. "If you want it…you'll have to say it. I'm not going to make you say it and I'm not going to do it for you. You've come this far Olivia, why back down now? Whatever you want from me….you need to say it."
Her mouth went dry at his words and she visibly swallowed. This was not the way she imagined their conversation. He was daring her and she had to accept the challenge. She squared her shoulders and staring him directly in the eyes, she said, "I want you to take me home with you."
He watched her beautiful lips move as every word poured out of her mouth and pressed her bravado. "Kiss me."
"What?" she choked out and almost missed a step but he expertly lifted her slightly from the ground so that they never faltered in their movements. They resumed their waltz as if nothing had happened.
He waited for her breath to even before continuing, "You want to come home with me?...Then kiss me."
"Why now?...You didn't kiss me before and I was standing there in front of you, right outside your bedroom." She hoped to put him on the defensive, make him back down a bit but she failed.
"You know why I didn't kiss you…you know why. And still you made me wait...It took a week for you to let me see you again…So now, if you want to go home with me…kiss me, right here, right now."
He wondered if she would actually do it; kiss him on a crowded dance floor with watching eyes all around them. He continued to lead her in the dance, giving her time to ponder the decision. He knew she was working all the angles; trying to find an alternate solution; trying to think of an alternate course of action. He prayed she wouldn't find one.
It should have been a simple kiss but they both knew it wouldn't be. The passion was already smoldering and one bold move could ignite it.
When she stopped dancing, he thought it was to leave him stranded on the dance floor. Once he released her hands, he watched as she brought her arms around his neck, sending her delicate fingers through the curls of his hair. Gently, yet firmly, she coaxed his head down to meet her; holding his gaze as she pressed her lips to his. Immediately, her tongue demanded entrance into his mouth and he complied, willingly, eagerly.
In a matter of seconds, the kiss that was meant to tease turned passionate and illicit. Olivia felt Fitz's hands move down her body, cup her ass and pull her tighter against him. Unreservedly, she moaned into his mouth and deepened the kiss further. She loved he feel of his lips, the way he tasted and the way he felt. She knew, as dangerous as it was, she could lose herself in him. Maybe she was already lost.
Still focused on each other, they finally broke apart. The kiss had affected both of them, more than either would admit. The lines were blurred. They could no longer tell who was playing whom.
Olivia was the first to gather her wits. "I need to say goodbye to my date…Can I meet you on the balcony in 5 minutes?"
She smiled as she walked away from him once again thankful for the mask she could hide behind; all the while counseling herself to remember her endgame.
XXX
She was starting to prune in the bathtub. Still the water warmed her skin, while the wine warmed her from the inside. She took two gulps from the glass and resumed her position in the tub. She listened as the music flowed through her rented loft and attempted to drown out all logical thought from her mind.
She had won but she didn't feel victorious. She was happy for her team; happy that the case was finished and that they could soon get back to their lives in DC. But for herself, she wasn't celebrating. As she closed her eyes and sunk deeper into the water, all she felt was profound disappointment. It was an illogical and unreasonable feeling but it was prevalent and pained her so deeply she wanted to cry.
She knew that Fitz's appreciation for art was too great to allow a valuable piece sit in some damp warehouse across town. She reasoned that if someone like Fitz had stolen the painting, he would want to keep it close to him. She wanted to be wrong. But the moment she snuck her team into Fitz's home, swapped the painting on his bedroom wall and broke into his safe, she felt it. She knew he was guilty. As much as she tried to deny it; wish it weren't true, she knew he was the man her mother and the police painted him to be. As her team retrieved all the information from his safe – the museum blueprints, the schedules of guard shift changes and specs of security weaknesses – she felt her heart melt and she didn't know why. This was a job, like any other and he was her mark; why did she care?
She wondered when, how and why she had allowed him to make a place in her heart after such a short period of time. Why had she foolishly believed in him, given him the benefit of the doubt? Why had she not trusted her gut?
As she dried herself and wrapped the towel securely around her body she knew she needed more wine to get through this night. She and her team would be gone in 2-3 days and this will all have been a distant memory. They had taken the painting to an expert who quickly assessed that another painting was hiding underneath it. They all believed it to be the stolen painting. Once that was confirmed, they could move on and she would forget about Fitzgerald Grant III; she had to.
She would leave her mother to find Sabrina. Every part of her rejected this idea; she didn't want to give up. She wanted to find her sister, know her. But Olivia was smart enough to know that this case was too personal on a variety of levels and she could no longer think objectively. So the best thing to do was finish what she had been hired for, collect their fee and leave.
She looked at herself in the mirror and saw her bloodshot, puffy eyes. She didn't even remember crying. She washed her face and continued with her normal nightly ministrations. The hair clip she wore began to pinch her scalp so she removed it and let the curls hang freely.
She went into the dark bedroom and placed her wine glass on the night stand. The song on her IPOD was changing and she began humming the tune. She reached to turn on the lamp but before she could, someone turned on the lights for her.
She gasped and grabbed her mouth to prevent herself from screaming aloud. He scared her so badly she nearly jumped out of her skin. Once she calmed her heart rate and her breathing went back to a normal pattern, she fully comprehended the scene before her. She tightened the towel around her body.
"What are you doing here!" she demanded. "You scared the shit out of me…What are you doing in my bedroom!?"
Her anger didn't bother him. He remained sitting in the corner chair, admiring her from a far. "It's the only room that has furniture. And I think I would be presuming too much if you found me in your bed."
She blinked several times. She quickly looked from him to the bed and back again. The way he looked to her right now, her bed would be the first and only place she would want him to be. She shook her head and inhaled to regain clarity. He was joking but she was not in a joking mood. The game was over; she had won and he needed to go away. "I'm not joking Fitz. What the hell are you doing in my home?"
He sighed. "You helped your team break into my home…I figured I would return the favor."
She opened her mouth to respond but didn't quite know what to say. She realized that she didn't need to explain herself to him. She was not required to confirm or deny his statement so she remained quiet.
"So…I'm here in your home. The difference is I didn't seduce you on a dance floor at a party."
She quickly spoke up, "The kiss was your idea!"
He continued as if he hadn't heard her. "And then on the balcony and then in car on the ride home…."
She did virtually attack him in both places but, as good as it felt, she had convinced herself that it was necessary to put up the pretense.
"I didn't let people into your home while you were sleeping. I didn't steal anything from you. And…"
"I didn't…" she began to deny. There was nothing to deny but still she didn't like the way he described her actions.
He cut her off. "And I didn't drug you to make it happen."
(A/N: This update was long in coming. I apologize but I'm really fighting against becoming disinterested in writing about Scandal all together. It's difficult when you can't find the motivation from the show. I'm trying to find encouragement from other fanfic stories that are my favorites but it's still not happening as quickly as I would like. I know I have three other stories waiting in the wings and I will try to update them as soon as the feeling comes, I promise. In the meantime I hope you are enjoying all the other wonderful fanfic stories on here. I know I am.
FYI, this story is going to move pretty fast. I never planned for it to go for a lot of chapters. So I hope to be able to post the next chapter very, very soon. Hope you enjoyed this update and look forward to your feedback and predictions.)
