The Art of the Trade
Palm on her back, Blake ushers her through the hall, only stepping aside when Lucy shows her through the door.
"Bess," Russell says, stepping to her side.
She leans close, leaving them nearly shoulder to shoulder. "My assistant said it was urgent," she whispers.
"Elizabeth." Conrad stands from his chair, bringing, too, the foreign dignitary to his feet.
She smiles. "Ah. Prime Minister Moretti." It's four steps to the sofa, and she's shaking his hand. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."
His grip is soft, far from the firm handshakes she was accustomed to sharing with world leaders. And she doesn't think too much about the way his thumb rubs over the back of her hand before she pulls away.
"Your presence was my request, Madam Secretary."
"Please—" She motions to the couch. "Call me Elizabeth."
She sits, as does he. And Enzo's lips curve up at the corners as they both sit back against the cushions.
"I'm looking forward to the reception tomorrow evening. Alana Bernini is a favorite violinist of mine."
A throat clears, and— "Prime Minister Moretti and I were just discussing the trade agreement."
Her eyes jump to the president. He has one leg crossed over the other, looking stern where he sits in his chair.
"Is there a problem, Sir?"
She and her staff had been coordinating between the Italians and the Chinese for over a month now. There'd been headaches over requested modifications to the language, near tantrums over who would extend their hand first, and a whole afternoon of bickering over how many pens they would use to sign their names.
"I have yet to give my final approval," Moretti says.
And now he was just being stubborn.
He stares into her eyes. "I want something from you first, Elizabeth." If she was twenty years younger, she would have felt the need to blush under his gaze.
Her eyebrows pull together as she tilts her head. "What can I do for you and Italy, Enzo? Do I have a standing invitation to Fashion Week in Milan?"
The laugh she hears comes from the back of his throat.
"Though your attendance in February would be delightful, I was thinking…" She watches as his eyes fall to her breasts before his head lifts back to her face. "You could undo another button."
She feels the heat rise in her cheeks— that's the last thing she'd expected to hear. She hadn't heard any rumors about the Italian Prime Minister… Only good things from Nadine.
She swallows as she looks to her lap.
He'd have to be added to the list of men she wasn't to be left alone with. She thinks Blake may rethink his efforts in pushing her to give in to flying to Milan. He had a thing for fancy clothes, fancy food too. He wanted her second seat, but he could have them both.
She wasn't opposed to using her looks to her advantage— skirts and stilettos had proved to have made her career that much easier at the CIA than pleated pants and flats. She'd pull out the heels that elongated her legs and the skirts that pulled tight across her ass for briefings… Agents never expected a leggy blonde to be sitting the Middle East desk. And though she would never admit it, here at State, she'd made a habit of choosing blouses with lower cut necklines when seeing a particular name on her schedule.
No, using her body didn't bother her, but it wasn't theirs to trade away.
Her head lifts, and she looks to Russell first before her eyes jump to Conrad.
"Mr. President, may Enzo and I please have the room?"
Her glare would have sent them scurrying if it would be acceptable to do so, but it isn't. They are in the Oval Office, with a head of state, so Russell excuses himself and the president, making a comment about giving them a moment alone.
Once the door has closed, she turns to Moretti with a smirk, already sliding onto the middle cushion of the sofa.
"Elizabeth," he hums. He's staring at her lips.
"Let's chat."
~MS~
Russell's waiting in the outer office when she crosses through the doorway. The prime minister is right on her heels.
"Tell President Dalton that Italy is looking forward to beginning work with the U.S. and China on energy. We're honored."
She shakes his hand, and this time his grip is firm. "We'll speak again tomorrow."
As an aide shows him through the hall, she can feel Russell staring at the side of her face.
And once Enzo disappears around a corner, she turns. "How dare you put me in that position."
He ducks his chin into his shoulder, and his suit jacket rumbles when he crosses his arms over his chest. "I don't know what to tell you." It's mumbled and he won't meet her eyes. "He has a crush."
She scoffs. "Obviously."
He lets out a breath. "Well, he was awfully smiley. What did you say to him?"
She readjusts her glasses. "We had a conversation about his two daughters." She'd asked him if he'd feel comfortable using them as ploys to secure deals. "And then he got a little more than what he'd asked for."
Russell arches a brow. "Do I want to know what that means?"
She raises one shoulder before letting it fall. "You can ask?"
His eyes widen as his head bobs forward. "I'm asking."
"I saved the damn day."
She doesn't wait for a reaction. She begins down the hall.
"Elizabeth!"
"Use your imagination, Russell," she says over her shoulder.