Her first thought was to call him.
Every time she reached for the phone, Olivia decided against it. Holding on that she would get to the bottom of whatever this was, before talking to him. But this would be one more thing she didn't want Fitz to worry about, at least at that moment. It would be the worst thing to do.
As much as she was close to the public eye, anticipating unexpected turns with her clients, this was not what she had in mind, with being so close to the President. She had the key to jump ahead of problems; solving the issues and reducing the blows. Any tactic that got Olivia ahead of the curve, and win, was how she thrived.
But when she witnessed the flash from the photographer's massive camera, the tough layer that she secured within herself, melted away. Once the windows were shut, Olivia rushed to the door, securing both pairs of locks, highly disturbed. Four years of dodging the paparazzi, and only the client receiving attention, hadn't prepared her for the day ahead. Her plan of doing absolutely nothing — which was a rarity.
How was she going to inform her team and Fitz about the mysterious stranger downstairs? Without creating a tornado between them and the press… Share with the class that she was having a thing, fling, or some kind of emotional rendezvous with the President of the United States, automatically jeopardizing an already fucked up scenario.
More importantly, who sent the pap to the apartment complex? No one knew where she lived. Olivia made it impossible for anyone outside of her staff, parents, and closest friends, to find her.
Barely keeping her eyes closed, at 3:30 in the morning, she texted Stephen, demanding that he visit. Twenty minutes later, he was knocking on the door, with a bottle of Shiraz. The best kind of comfort gift.
"What's going on?
"We have an issue," she frantically replied, disappearing into the kitchen to find two large-bodied glasses. Stephen followed, opening the bottle. Without realizing, Olivia snatched the bottle away, pouring the tart liquid.
"Is it the Senator? Someone made a claim and is about to come forward? Is it your parents?"
She didn't answer, just moving about and rushing around with the full glass in her hand, which clued Stephen in on the severity.
"Liv? I can't help you if you don't tell me."
After drinking all of her wine, which worried him, Olivia admitted, "Someone was outside, taking pictures. Taking pictures of me."
"What?"
Stephen crossed to the window, peeking through the slit between the heavy curtains, finding clues or anything that could lead them to the right direction. "Where, Liv? What is going on?"
"I asked you to come over because I need to find out who was outside my apartment around 11:45."
"How did you know," he pondered, looking back at Olivia.
Crossing her arms defensively, she said, "Because I was looking out the window."
A little confused and annoyed by her vague responses, he asked, "Liv. You wouldn't have called me just to complain about some moron taking pictures. You're never shaken by cameras. Are you in trouble? You would tell me if something was wrong, right?"
Olivia didn't know how to break this to him; her heart was racing, making it harder for her to think properly. There was only so much she could spin before one of her closest friends would figure everything out. Like she told her clients, never lie.
"The President was here."
Stephen took his sweet time to finish the contents of his glass, then walked over to her, with a glare. "Fitzgerald Grant makes house calls now?"
When she looked down, he connected some dots.
"What the fuck, Olivia? You're not—you couldn't. Are you two screwing?"
"It's 2am. Lower your voice, and no, we are not."
"Then why is he coming here?"
"He wanted to talk."
Stephen furrowed his brows, "You couldn't do that over the phone?"
"I didn't know he was going to be here."
"He surprised you?"
Olivia stammered, lifting her hands in frustration, "Nothing is going on."
"Are you sure," Stephen's voice had risen, and was becoming more angry. "Because his case is already a mess as it is. We don't need anything else to ruin our chances of winning."
His interrogation was over the top and Olivia wasn't buying it. She didn't want to be attacked for how she was walking this course. To the best of her knowledge, she wasn't doing anything wrong. Could she have been wiser? Of course. But it wasn't the time to be reprimanded.
"Will you stop?"
"Why?"
"I am keeping my distance."
"Is that you call this? Getting close with the President," Stephen taunted.
Irritated, Olivia clarified, "I am not fucking him. I told him that I wouldn't cross that line until after he was divorced."
"Well, tell me what is going on?
"That's none of your business."
"When you include myself and my co-workers, and then ask me to visit you in the middle of the night, I think it does become my business."
Olivia directed Stephen to join her on the couch. "More wine?"
"If you're offering, I won't refuse."
A liquid peace offering. Stephen replied quietly, "I'm sorry for being out of line. I'm very concerned. Whatever you tell me, I won't judge."
"You will," Olivia smirked as she topped off her glass.
"Ok. Not as much."
If she revealed everything, at least Stephen would understand how conflicted she was, and then guide her with how to move forward. But it was still difficult to proceed. This was her dirty little secret.
"A few weeks after we met, we became friendly. Somehow I was confidant. Then...he would invite me-"
"Italy. Camp David. All of the trips?"
"Stephen, I need you to believe me."
"Did he ask you to come for work or personal reasons?"
"Italy, work. Camp David, both."
All Stephen could do was drink and that made her nervous. He always had something to stay, but he remained quiet, just nursing his glass. So, she followed his lead, hoping her favorite beverage would calm her or even provide courage to speak up and tell the truth.
"We've only kissed."
"Okay."
"I mean it," she reiterated, looking directly at Stephen. The judgment on his face was enough conviction. "I am doing everything in my power to keep this a secret."
"What about him?"
"Surprisingly," Olivia leaned back, taking a long breath, "He wants to pursue this. I told him that can't happen until the papers are signed. I'm already feeling guilty. But he likes me. We have a connection. I didn't think I'd end up here, but here we are."
Stephen gave a reassuring nod; "Why do you feel guilty? You know. He is separated. You can do what you want."
"That's a lie. I can't do what I want. One mistake, one wrong move, and I'm fucked. He may get a slap on the wrist but my career is tarnished. And I won't include you all in this. That's why I haven't been forthcoming, which I feel bad about, but at the same time, I would do the same thing all over again."
For a few minutes, they didn't talk. Stephen took their empty glasses to the kitchen, probably to have a moment to himself. Olivia sighed, closed her eyes. The weight of her secrets lifted, but only slightly. It felt good to reveal this to someone she trusted. But she was tired. She needed to go to bed.
"Get some sleep, Liv. Just… we'll take care of this."
"Thank you. I'll call Huck in the morning."
"I'll do that," Stephen answered, helping Olivia to stand. She could feel his eyes on her; observing if any signs of distress were present. "What's important is that you get sleep. I know you haven't gone to bed yet. Do you want me to stay?"
Olivia declined, giving him a faint smile. "That's okay. But I appreciate you coming here at this ungodly hour. Make sure you sleep in."
"We want to make sure you're taken care of, girl."
Sleep was but a dream; worry overtook her thoughts as she laid in bed. Each hour was worse than the one prior.
Then, Olivia couldn't wait any longer.
Slowly dialing his number, she began to doubt her intentions again. Was it worth the hassle to bug him, tell him about a situation that might only be in her head, making something out of nothing. Or maybe he wouldn't pick up. But as far she knew, she was the only one who had that access to the burner. He had to know the truth, then they could move forward. And he wouldn't not talk to her. He told her that she was his favorite person to unwind with at night. Or in the morning. Or whenever they could connect.
"Livvie?"
His sleepy voice was beautiful to hear, but for the wrong reasons.
She didn't answer, but wanted to blurt out everything at once.
"What's wrong? Liv. Please, talk to me. You can talk to me."
"I think someone knows you were at my place last night."
"That can't be," Fitz rebutted. "I had to compromise with my guys to let me get over there. Undisclosed cars. We were under the radar."
"A photographer was outside. His lens was focused on me."
"But—"
"It was almost midnight, Fitz. Why would anyone be outside at that time of night with a fancy camera, with a long lens? Hmm? What if you had been followed? What if someone had connected the dots from a prior event? Have you stopped to think about how we've playing too close to fire?"
The months of dipping into the proverbial cookie jar, mixing pleasure with business, was becoming a danger to his divorce proceedings, and ultimately her career.
Fitz cursed, before apologizing.
"Livvie. I'm sorry."
"Are you? Because we could be in deep trouble and I need to find some answers."
"Can you come in the morning or afternoon?"
Olivia began to pace the floor, working through several plans in her head, but equally concerned that Fitz wasn't understanding. She didn't need to see him and get distracted; she needed to talk. "I don't think that's possible. Did you schedule your meeting? With your wife?"
"I did," he groaned. "7 o'clock. Thanks for reminding me."
"Good."
"You're deliberately avoiding my question. Can you? I think you should still stop by. Come over around noon? I can make lunch and we can do whatever you'd like."
"This isn't an excuse for a date, Fitz. I need to get to the bottom of this. So, if you could assist me to figure who would want proof of you visiting my apartment, that would be excellent."
"Do you need me to cancel with Mellie? I'll do it. This is the last thing I want to deal with. I'd rather spend time with you. You know that, right?"
Why they weren't making strides was frustrating. Olivia hissed, "What you need to do is keep up with the schedule you have for the day. Stay focused. If you do that, then I won't feel like I'm being stalked in the middle of the night because the President wants to play hookie."
She was exhausted with his attitude towards this. Just because he had the power to downplay something serious, didn't mean she could.
"Wow. If that's how you truly feel," an exasperated Fitz replied. "Just come at 1. We will get this taken care of. Trust me, okay?"
Olivia let the words sink in, before hanging up. For some reason, she always had a habit of never saying "goodbye" after a conversation on the phone. Maybe the word was too final. If she didn't say it, then the person on the other line would never go away, or disappear on her.
Huck was notified of the situation and gave a promise to Olivia that he would find the person or group of individuals responsible for the photographer. That gave her some time to shower, find something comfortable and appropriate to wear for a visit to 1600 Penn. As stubborn as she was, she decided to still go to see him.
To her surprise, she had no problem getting inside; the guard and agents didn't question her appearance, but instead, directed her to where she needed to go.
One particular agent, Carl, escorted her to the second floor. Moving through secret hallways and forbidden doors, Olivia felt her heart grow heavy. This wasn't on the docket.
She was instructed to wait in the parlor. Two closed doors on either side of her; being left alone in the private quarters of the President was a little intimidating. The thought of being seen here was abysmal. But she knew in his mind, she was meant to be where he could be. He did visit her home. Why couldn't she do the same with him?
"Hi."
Olivia turned to find Fitz walking in, in a Navy t-shirt and jeans, that nicely fit his long legs. Something about him in a casual outfit was very sexy, but she kept her cool.
"Hi."
As if her heart disconnected from her mind, Olivia immediately stood to greet him. His grin was wide, opening his arms for her. Exhaling a deep sigh, Olivia closed the gap between them. Breathing him in, falling into a strange kind of peace.
"I'm surprised you actually came," he said in her ear. "You didn't seem to be as eager this morning."
Olivia mumbled, "I changed my mind. I need you."
"I need you."
She looked into his eyes, yearning for more, but knowing they could only do so much. So, they stood there in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around each other. Being alone, momentarily dropping any concern of being caught by disapproving parties.
Exchanging weakness for strength, comfort instead of worry. Connecting on a new level that they hadn't reached before. Fitz kissed her forehead several times, while Olivia rubbed his back, counting down the seconds for when they had to discuss why she came.
Reluctantly peeling away from his warm embrace, Olivia took his hand in hers, and led him to the loveseat.
"Okay," she started, not as ready to share the information.
Miraculously, Olivia succinctly described the implications of any pictures being sold to the media. Mellie could use the product as ammo. It would be nails in his coffin, bringing more drama for Fitz and the remainder of his term. Contradicting everything he had said during his interviews. Also, it would bring a negative light for his team, specifically herself.
"Aren't you frustrated?"
Fitz let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his forehead. "Of course. Do you know how long I've waited to not be here married anymore? I'm so damn close and it's as if she and others don't want me to be happy."
"Don't give up," Olivia reminded him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "May I ask you a question? Why here? And not the Oval?"
She was confused, wondering how his logic could turn into foolish hope, when he was with her.
"Because our conversation is private in nature, and I don't want it to be questioned. You wanted to talk, I made sure that could happen uninterrupted. I spoke with my agents."
The sentence piqued Olivia's interest. "Hal and Tom?"
"Yes, I asked them. There was footage of us, but only are a few seconds."
"Of us hugging?"
Fitz confirmed, but only nonchalantly, "Nothing worth fretting about. But, I hear what you're saying. I'll be more careful. My guys are loyal; they are looking out for me. You too, Livvie."
"Thank you. My team is working to bring me answers, so we can curtail any pictures from getting leaked."
"And I didn't cancel," he said, patting her leg. "I'm going to talk to her and remind her of what will happen if she doesn't sign. Does that work for you?"
Olivia leaned against him, willing to be satisfied with his plan. "Okay."
"Now that we have discussed, would you like a tour?"
"Why do you think I'm interested in that?"
Fitz stood, well-aware of Olivia's snarky comeback. "I had a feeling that my favorite person in the world might want to see my place."
Who knows when she would be able to visit again, so with a glimmer in her eye, she took his hand, and allowed him to lead the way.
Grabbing a snack in the kitchen, then off to the TV room, checking out the massive dressing room.
Fitz opened the final door, and Olivia stepped in.
"This is my room."
"Cozy," she smiled.
Fitz extended his arms, "I try to make it work, Livvie. Come here."
Olivia sat down at the door of the bed. "This is nice."
"I'm sorry for getting you into this mess," he softly spoke, rubbing his nose against hers.
"We'll get through this, Fitz. Trust me," she promised, before capturing his lips. Their kisses escalating to a feverish level, pulling them down towards the mattress. His hands touching her neck, arms, the inside of her thigh, while the heat of the moment led Olivia to straddle him, gyrating in a way that made him gasp and moan. The privacy they were having was a turn on for her.
"I love you."
She jerked back, very alarmed, before realizing Fitz noticed.
"What?"
A quick response as she scooted off of him — "Nothing."
"It's something," he replied, lowering his voice. Turning over on his side to face Olivia, his hand found purchase on her stomach. "I care about you, so much. I. Love. You."
Olivia was finding it so hard to accept, but she knew that's how he felt about her. In a way, she was grateful. Not wanting to admit how whenever he mentioned Mellie and subsequently dodging the truth about them, hope would diminish. She knew how politicians could be. Hell, men. Saying anything to get a smile or keep the other person to stick around.
But in the time that she had gotten to know him, Olivia knew Fitz wasn't the kind of man who would drag her emotions along, just for shits and giggles, and leave her in the dust. He meant what he said.
"Did I say it too soon?"
"No. I wasn't expecting it. At all."
"I'm sorry, baby. But I'm with you, all the way."
Olivia reached to touch his face. "Thank you."
A long moment had passed. They found themselves cuddling, legs tangled, and enjoying the quiet. Olivia closed her eyes, already feeling better from the morning. Fitz seemed to be her elixir.
"When this is over, I'm going to take you out. Wherever you want to go. Continue to spoil you like the queen you are, Livvie."
Olivia rolled her eyes. She wanted to believe every word he said, but this kind of promise was out of bounds.
"That's what you want to do?"
Fitz gave her a lazy smile. "Of course."
Shaking her head, Olivia sat up, smoothing her hair down. "I see."
"What now?"
"Since you want to help me, here's something you can do. Handle the current situation you have with your wife. Because right now, she still is your wife. Then, and only then, you will have a chance of being able to see and handle this. Call me when you get home from Mellie's."
Olivia left a surprised Fitz on the bed; a knowing smirk creeping through on her face. He was going to do everything that she told him to do.
The guys arrived at Olivia's an hour after her visit at the White House. They were given a vague description of the night before. Huck, one of the best IT professionals on the East Coast, was already searching for any irregular activity on Connecticut Avenue. Red light cameras, footage from the concierge's desk. Anything that could lead to a break.
"Got his face," Huck explained, typing away. "Made the mistake of looking up right after he took the picture. I'll work on the image and find a name for you."
Harrison came from the kitchen, with a huge bowl of popcorn and three sodas.
"So, what's your plan?"
Olivia handed two folders to Harrison. "If this creep is associated with the case we're working on, I don't want it to get any press or attention. I need it shut down before it reaches any news outlet, or better yet, Mellie Grant. Five leads are listed right there, just in case."
"Liv, what's really going on? It's a different take than before. What's the rush?"
"Someone thinks we're getting a little too close to the President. What he's doing is not popular, by any means. Who really wants a divorced Commander in Chief, and then worry about his future dating life, while having the most important job in the country. Any of us could be a threat."
"Got it!"
Olivia and Harrison stood behind Huck as he explained.
"Rick Stanley. A freelance photographer, based in Arlington. His cell number is right there. Should we call?"
Immediately reaching for her phone, Olivia announced, "I'll call. Let's get to the bottom of this."
Two rings later, someone picked up.
"Hello?"
"Yes, I'm calling to find out why you were taking pictures at the Barrington Court Apartments at 11:34 last night?"
"Who is this?"
"My question is who are you? For spying on private citizens? Who sent you and where is the SD card?"
"Excuse me?"
Olivia toughened up, "You were hired by someone to grab a few pictures and sell it to blackmail President Fitzgerald Grant. Is that correct?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Stop lying. You're already going to face charges if you aren't cooperative."
"Listen, I was just asked to scope the area and take any shots that I found interesting. That's all," Rick offered defensively.
Huck gestured to move the conversation slightly, writing a few notes for Olivia to read.
"We need the SD card, so it can be destroyed."
"I ain't snitchin' and I need the money."
"I will send one of my people to you, in exchange for the amount you're looking for. You will meet him in thirty minutes at Woodley Park. Right outside the Zoo."
"How do I know this is real?"
Olivia snarled, "Because I don't lie and you will most likely appreciate that I don't. A man with dark hair and purple suspenders will be outside the Zoo gate, with $1500 in cash. Thirty minutes. If not, we will find you and there will be worse consequences. It will be certain that you will never be able to work in this area again."
After hanging up, she told Huck and Harrison, "Let's go."
The three traveled in Harrison's sedan, parking a block away from the National Zoo. Olivia instructed Harrison to ask for the SD card, then give the cash, then sign a contract, stating that no photos would be copied or sold to anyone.
The transaction occurred without a hitch.
Back at the office, Huck scanned the gallery. Olivia waited nervously, hoping that nothing scandalous would be seen, even though she knew that nothing happened.
"The pics were only of you, by the window."
"Anyone else?"
"Just you."
"I don't believe it. What if he saved the pics he wanted, then deleted them off the card," Olivia suggested. "I need you two to make sure there are no other pictures."
Seven o'clock came and went, and Olivia hadn't heard from Fitz. What if the meeting went to hell?
Huck knocked on her office door.
"Hey. Are you hungry? You've been in here for a few hours now."
"No," Olivia said, always in awe that Huck would always make sure she was taken care of. "Any updates?"
"Liv. I know who hired the Rick guy. His name is Billy Chambers. Somehow he's associated with Amanda Tanner. Maybe looking for some revenge for what happened with the President."
"Not Mellie?"
"No, but he has been sending information to her camp. They are trying to come up with a story to sell to the media that President Grant is currently seeing someone else, messing up any hope of Mellie's wish to stay married."
Harrison walked in, "Liv. Some guy from the White House is here."
Olivia raced to the door, not even having time to slip her ballet flats back on. It could be a messenger from Fitz. But alas, it was that smug Jake Ballard, from the White Press Corps, standing in her hallway.
"Hello, Olivia," he greeted, extending his hand sharply.
Being cordial, she returned the handshake. "Yes, I met you on the flight to Italy. What can I do for you and how did you know that I was here?"
"I have my sources."
Olivia side eyed him, "I see." Something was off, and she didn't like it.
"I came to see if you have any word about the Grants?"
"What about them?"
Jake chuckled, "Don't play coy, Miss Pope. The falling out. We haven't seen the First Lady since last month. Not at the White House. The public needs to know."
Olivia put her hands on her hips, looking him square in the eye. "The public or you? Are you looking for an earth-shattering headline? Or first dibs to a story?"
He answered, "Actually, that would be a great thing. It's been awful quiet in our office, and any juicy bits you could give would be much obliged."
Twisting her lips, she asked, "Are we on the record?"
"We don't have to be."
Jake's response was exactly what she wanted to hear. Confirming that he was only there to find information to assist his trajectory in the Press Corps. She had that feeling since being on Air Force One. An opportunistic ass.
"I need you should come back on Monday morning, during official business hours, and we can discuss."
"Why," he asked. "I'm right here."
The phone rang. Olivia excused herself to the conference room.
"Hey," she whispered.
"Hey, Livvie. I just left Blair House. We need to talk. My place?"
Taking a deep breath, she replied, "Let me get some things settled at work. See you soon."
"So, what's the deal," Jake asked.
Before Olivia could answer, Harrison turned on the TV, just in time for all in the room to hear the opener.
President Fitzgerald Grant was seen in DuPont Circle last night, sans his wedding band. Sources, who only wanted to talk on the terms of anonymity, say his finger has been bare for several weeks. And where is Mellie? The Southern belle has been keeping a low profile since the announcement was made about their separation. Tonight, we received footage of the President leaving Blair House with a hefty folder in his hand. Is divorce eminent for the First Couple? Will Fitz and Mellie survive? Stay tuned.
Hope you enjoyed. Happy Sunday, Happy Passover, and Happy Easter!