Chap. 3: Strictly Business

"I got the job."

"What? Seriously! That's incredible! Congratulations!" exclaimed the male voice on the other end of the line.

Olivia was on the phone with her literary agent and on-again/off-again boyfriend Edison Davis. He was ecstatic to hear the news that she was now officially the new biographer for Pres. Grant.

"You know what this means, don't you? Another six-figure advance - but this time we're going to make it stick! Wait 'till I wave this book proposal in front of those assholes over at Simon & Schuster," Edison continued. "They're going to regret the day they canceled your first book deal."

"Edison, please, please, just slow down," Olivia said, already regretting she had bothered to call him this early with the news. "I don't even have an outline yet, so there's nothing for you to shop around to any of the publishing houses."

"Doesn't matter, Liv. Do you know what an incredible get this is? Everyone, from Bryan Burrough of Vanity Fair to renowned presidential biographer Doris Kearns Goodwin have been scrambling and groveling for months to get Pres. Grant to choose them to write his biography. Some of the best writers in the business, Liv, and you beat them ALL! Oh my God, this is huge, Liv, HUGE!"

Olivia let out a heavy sigh. Edison was way more enthusiastic about this than she was.

"So, what's he like?" Edison asked excitedly.

"What's who like?" she replied.

"Ha, ha, very funny, Olivia Carolyn Pope. The President. What's he like?"

Olivia paused for a second. Where should she begin? That she found Pres. Grant to be arrogant, cocky, domineering, infuriating and extremely competitive? Or that she found him to be highly intelligent, supremely confident, intoxicatingly masculine and devastatingly handsome? How was Olivia supposed to tell her currently on-again boyfriend that the former POTUS mentally challenged and physically stimulated her in a way he didn't, how her face became flush and her heart began to race when he looked at her and how turned on she got at the idea of verbally sparring with Pres. Grant again? How did she tell Edison how totally baffled and confused she was by the swirl of sensations she was already experiencing in the presence of a man she had just met? How could Olivia share any of this with dear old predictably boring Edison? She vigorously shook her head, as though the motion would knock the thoughts out of her brain, and resorted to the standard default answer.

"He's nice," she simply said.

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Nice? Are you kidding me?" Edison asked in disbelief. "Olivia, you just met a former President of the United States. You're at his ranch, for Christ's sakes! And all you can say is that he's nice?"

"OK, well, maybe not nice, poor choice of words. But I didn't exactly make a good first impression," Olivia said sheepishly.

"What? What happened? Oh, never mind what sort of first impression you made," Edison gleefully said, ramming his way through the conversation. "It obviously doesn't matter because YOU GOT THE JOB!"

Olivia took a deep breath and looked at her watch. She wanted to get off the phone.

"So, Liv, when can you get me a book proposal so I begin shopping it around to the major publishers?" Edison asked, his voice still brimming with excitement.

"I don't know, Edison. Give me some time. I literally just got here," Olivia said tiredly. "I'm probably going to need at least a month."

"A month?! As in four whole weeks?" Edison exclaimed. "Nah, that's too much time. You've got one week to get the proposal done and get it to me because once word gets out that you've landed this project, publishers are going to be beating down our door to bid on it. We do want a bidding war, but let's at least get an outline done first so we can make sure we're getting a publisher who will fully support your work this time."

"Well, other than old newspaper and magazine articles, there really isn't much decent source material out there about Pres. Grant," Olivia replied. "I'm basically starting from scratch and the man himself isn't exactly an open book."

"Well, there's obviously something about you that he likes, otherwise he wouldn't have selected you," Edison said. "By the way, Liv, if you want this book to be a bestseller, you'll have to get to the bottom of what happened to his wife."

"What do you mean, get to the bottom of what happened? Mellie Grant committed suicide a year after he was forced to resign and left office. Case closed," Olivia said.

"Yeah, that's the official story but rumor has it that she was murdered and that there was a cover up," Edison said conspiratorially. "In fact, there are a lot of people who think the reason why Grant previously has been so unwilling to do a biography or write his memoirs is because he knows he'd have to talk about his marriage, what went wrong with it and his wife's mysterious death."

"Edison, I'm not Sherlock Holmes," Olivia huffed. "I'm not going to go digging into this man's most intimate and private history."

"Well, if that's the case, you may as well pack up and come back home then," he said annoyed. "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Liv, to not only write history but to create some. Don't go into this project already deciding what's off limits. Nothing at this early stage should be off limits in terms of what you could potentially write about him. Do what you have to to get the full story."

Olivia didn't respond. Maybe she should look for another agent? No, she couldn't do that to Edison, after all he had stuck with her when the first book deal fell apart and then later when she got kicked out of Princeton. But man was he working her nerves with this conversation.

"OK, we'll see," Olivia finally replied.

After getting off the phone, Olivia went downstairs. Cyrus had told her earlier that he was going in to town and would be back in a few hours, so she wasn't expecting to see him around. As she walked by the dining room on her way to the kitchen, she heard Fitz call out to her. "Ms. Pope, Mrs. Banfield is about to serve lunch. Please, come join me," he said, standing up.

Olivia entered the large dining room. A few hours earlier the table had been covered in paperwork. She had noticed that when she had originally arrived. Cyrus must've taken the documents away.

She walked over to the empty chair directly across from Fitz and sat down. Mrs. Banfield, the housekeeper, came in with another place setting and set down a plate and cutlery in front of Olivia. "What would you like to have for lunch?" she asked. Olivia looked over at Fitz and simply said, "I'll have what he's having."

The housekeeper left and Olivia picked up the monogrammed cloth napkin that was at the place setting, unfolded it and placed it in her lap. Mrs. Banfield came back and started serving the food. She put a plate of piping hot pasta in front of Olivia. It smelled delicious.

"So, have you been following the news out of Washington about those fiscal cliff talks?" Olivia asked Fitz in an attempt to make small talk. "I heard on the news that the Republicans and Democrats have reached an impasse on extending the Bush-era tax cuts."

"Old habits die hard," Fitz said, grabbing a roll from the breadbasket on the table. "Thank God I don't have to deal with that kind of politicking anymore."

"You don't miss it? Washington, I mean?" Olivia asked.

"It's been said that politics is the second-oldest profession. I learned that it bears a striking resemblance to the first," Fitz said flatly.

"Prostitution?" Olivia asked.

"Yes, prostitution, the world's oldest profession," Fitz responded. Olivia looked shocked. "You seem surprised."

"Well, it's just a rather cynical view of politics, don't you think?" she asked.

"And I suppose you think politics is simply about serving the public good and that no sacrifice, no pain is involved in the process?" he asked.

"No, of course not. I'm not that naïve," she replied defensively.

Fitz laughed bitterly. "If you only knew the things a politician has to do to win, the deals he has to make to survive, the things he has to agree to just to keep his head above water…" his voice trailed off. "Well, let's just say you wouldn't find the comparison between politics and prostitution that farfetched."

Olivia picked up her glass of water and took a sip. She was beginning to wonder what exactly had she gotten herself into. Pres. Grant, she could tell, was going to be one tough customer. Would she be able to crack that facade and get enough good and original material to make the book appealing to publishers? He obviously had a wall up. Breaching that wall was going to take work, a lot of work. Was she up to the task?

Fitz went back to eating. Olivia looked at his hands. The first thing she noticed was that they were huge. The second thing she noticed was that he still wore a wedding ring. Mellie Grant, the First Lady, had been dead for two years and he still wore his wedding ring. Interesting, Olivia thought as she made a mental note of it.

"You're thinking Ms. Pope," Fitz said giving Olivia a quizzical look. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, just thinking that there's so much to learn about you and how on Earth am I going to be able to capture all of it to do you justice," she replied, smiling sweetly. She had only one week to write a book proposal. A book that could catapult her into the major leagues as a biographer. A book that could erase the career failure of getting kicked out of a PhD program. If she had to go on a charm offensive to get what she needed, so be it.

"I know that you had several other top biographers vying for this project, so I just want to thank you, Mr. President, for choosing me and entrusting me with writing your biography."

"You flatter me and you flatter yourself. Don't." Fitz said.

"Excuse me?" Olivia asked.

"I said don't flatter yourself," he replied. "The reason why I picked you has nothing to do with trust or with talent."

Fitz kept eating but Olivia was shocked.

"Well if you don't trust me and you don't think I have the skill to write your biography, why am I still here?" she asked offended.

"We just met, so there's no way I can say that I trust you. Not yet. And with regards to your talent, well, let's just say that the jury is still out on that one," Fitz said. He looked across the table at her challenging her to strike back.

"I am good. I am brilliant. I came here with an open mind. I came here ready to give this my all. I came here prepared to eat, breathe, live Fitzgerald Grant for every minute of every day for however long it takes. And you know why? Because I want to write the best, damn presidential biography ever. But you know what? If you feel that I'm an untrustworthy, talentless hack, it's not too late to find yourself another writer," she said angrily, standing up. She threw her cloth napkin down on the table.

"There aren't many writers who would put up with these insults. You would be lucky to have me. I don't need this!" she exclaimed as she headed towards the door.

"Stop. Walking." The President's deep baritone voice reverberated through the dining room.

Olivia stopped dead in her tracks. His voice was like a chain that yanked her back and prevented her from taking another step forward. She heard the chair scrape against the Persian rug and hardwood floor as Fitz got up from the dining room table. She quickly turned around to see the President walking toward her.

She stood her ground with her arms crossed in front of her chest. The man was a bully and a jerk and she wasn't going to let him intimidate her like this. But as he came closer, her defenses began to melt. She started to walk backwards and held her hand up in a motion of "don't come any closer." But Fitz ignored her outstretched palm and kept approaching. Olivia kept walking backwards until her back hit the wall. Fitz came to stand less than three feet away from her.

"You are way too thin skinned, you know that?" he asked looking at her intently. "But you are the first woman I've met in a long time who has aroused my curiosity and I find that very..." he paused for effect, "intriguing."

He took a step closer. The energy of his movement put an electrical charge in the air as they stood there looking at one another. Olivia could feel her face getting warm and the flesh on her arms breaking out in goosebumps. Her arms, which were now down by her side, instinctively reached out behind her to touch the wall, as if to brace herself and help her to remain standing. Being in this man's presence, this close to him, was causing her brain to short circuit.

"You're right, I would be lucky to have you," he said in a low voice as his eyes roamed her face. "I don't want you to quit. I want you to stay and accomplish what you set out to do."

"Which is?" she asked.

"Which is to eat, breathe, live Fitzgerald Grant," he replied with a smile that disarmed her. He leaned in a bit more. Olivia looked up at him. He was getting close. Too close for comfort. Good lord, if this man came any closer she wasn't going to be responsible for what happened next. Shaking her head, she moved along the wall to get away from him.

"If I stay," she started to say, "there have got to be some…."

"…ground rules," Fitz interrupted, finishing her sentence. "Yes, I agree."

Olivia had opened the distance between them.

"You give me at least three hours a day of interview time and you'll allow me to record it," she said.

"Agreed."

"I get to ask anything I want. Nothing is off the table," she continued.

"You can ask, but I may choose to not answer," Fitz replied.

Olivia just nodded her head.

"And, no flirting. This is strictly business," she added.

"Of course. As you wish," Fitz said with a smirk. "I can agree to that. Can you?"

He stuck out his hand for her to shake it. Olivia stepped forward but when her tiny palm made contact with his huge one, a jolt of electricity surged through her body. Her breath caught in her throat as Fitz raised her hand to his lips and lightly kissed the back of it like a gentleman.

"Strictly business, Ms. Pope," he said before letting her hand go.

A/N: That Fitz, what a charmer. Tell me what you think of this chapter in a review. Don't want to miss a single chapter? Tick the box below that says "Follow Story" so you get email alerts as soon as the next chapter goes online. Thanks for reading!

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