February 1975

"She's a b#tch. Grade A, primo, ice queen bi#tch." Bette explains with a shudder. "Say no. Say you have rabies and you can't be allowed out in public." She grabs my arm to prevent me from putting on my cufflinks. "You studied history, say you have some historic disease, like that plague, and you just can't go."

Laughing, I hand her my cufflinks and hold out my wrist. "I'm sorry Miss Blake, I've contracted the bubonic plague and I simply cannot escort you the Deschanel wedding."

Bette snaps on my cufflinks with a snort. "That's much too polite. She's evil and evil has to be dealt with accordingly."

"I'm sure she's not evil." Far from it, our one conversation as we walked back to my apartment was the most amazing conversation of my life. She's beautiful, intelligent, witty and surprisingly down-to-earth. The chance to escort her to the Deschanel wedding is the chance of a lifetime. Not that I'll be admitting that to Bette.

Scoffing as she finishes my other set of cufflinks, Bette gets up to fix my bow tie. "You're too patient. You'll be wishing that you had listened to me once she sucks your soul out through your ears."

"Maybe I'll just cover my ears." I offer with a shrug that only serves to infuriate her more.

"She's my brother's best friend. My brother is the spawn of Satan himself, and he loves her. Raves about her, thinks she's the pinnacle of womanhood."

I fix a curl of blonde hair sliding out of her elaborate updo and straighten her heavy gold necklace around her neck. "I've spent twenty-five years with my father. I think I can survive one evening with Olivia Blake."

She kisses my cheek, aware of just how much pain hides behind my patient smile. "I suppose if anyone can handle the horror of her, it's you."

I grab her black beaded shawl from my bed and tuck it around her shoulders. She's in pink satin tonight and few women can make it look as bright as she can. "I remember that vote of confidence."

"Come on Greggie, Jeffrey's probably thinking you've stolen me away." She takes my arm and plasters that smile on her face. The same one Alex had when we returned to her bungalow. The smile of a woman trapped. If I do one thing right in my life, let me never make a woman feel that way. The unappreciated adornment for my arm at a party, and the mother of my children, but somehow less important than my watch or my car.

Alex and John will be at the party, and I'll have to find the time to dance with her. John never dances with her. Now that she's carrying his son, she has no purpose in life other than bringing that baby into the world. He seems to have entirely lost interest in her brilliant smile, or the way she can tell a story that lights up a room.

Even Bette suffers the disdain of the man who professed to "love her more than there were grains of sand on the beach" when he proposed. Now his only comment to her is that she's late, and couldn't she have worn the pearl earrings instead? She says nothing, burying the fire that filled our conversation a moment ago. It seems this marriage to is bound for divorce court. I hate myself for thinking it as we part ways and I walk to my car.

I never appreciated the old Jaguar. It's another one of my father's attempts to make me into something I'm not. I hated the throaty purr of the engine because it seemed to ostentatious. But she loved it. Olivia dove under the hood in search of the battery with such enthusiasm. She caressed the leather-bound wheel like a hungry lover and gave me the most envious smile when I confessed that my father bought it off the showroom floor seven years ago and gave it to me when he grew bored with it.

She said she didn't see how anyone could ever get bored with something so beautiful. Olivia didn't understand when I sighed softly and agreed We were back at the library by then and our conversation turned to the more mundane hoping that her car would start. Which, unfortunately started on the first try. I didn't have the guts to ask for her number, or even ask to see her again.

But she took the initiative for me it seems by demanding Del get Bette to twist my arm into being her escort to the Deschanel wedding. Can't really be fun to have to go to the wedding of the man who refused to marry her and turned around and proposed to her best friend. Not that Olivia Blake would ever let that get her down. She's too conscious of her reputation and I can bet she'll be first in line to congratulate Elaine and AJ.

It took a lot of convincing to get her to allow me to pick her up at her apartment. I've been dying to see the flat that she's so ashamed of. Trading an offer of coffee and the homemade cookies my grandmother taught me to make as a little boy back at my place once she gets bored with the reception was just embarrassing enough to get her to give in.

Olivia's waiting on the front steps. Her building was once an attractive brownstone with turn of the century accents, but now it's crumbling. The wrought iron rail on the porch that her gorgeous hand is resting on is crooked. I shut off the engine and hurry to her door. Instead of opening it as she expects I lean up against it and take her in. It's a winter wedding, but she stayed away from black. Instead she wore deep blue, the kind of dark shade that brings out her eyes and the delicate ivory of her skin.

Her hair's up like Bette's but it makes Olivia look elegant and sad. Her smile lights up her face when she waves to me. Her dress left her arms bare, except for a bracelet on her left wrist. She has a slim silver chain around her neck, but it's too simple for her dress. It's the kind of mistake someone who wasn't born to society would make, and unfortunately if it's obvious to me, it'll be obvious to the vultures at the party.

"You're a vision of loveliness Miss Blake." I explain as I make her turn around to show me the whole ensemble. The dress has a deep vee covered with delicate embroidery that draws all attention to the perfect curve of her lower back. It's a good choice for her slim frame because it pulls attention away from her small breasts.. The jewelry's not enough and her hair is too severe.

She tilts her head and smirks. "I'm a vision, but-"

"Permission to be entirely candid with you?" I move from the door and open it for her.

Olivia nods to me as she pulls her feet inside the Jaguar. "Always."

"Armando James Deschanel Jr. is a stuck-up stupid little boy and has been since we went to primary school together." My expression of distaste makes her smile. "We've always been rivals, especially since I beat him in the fourth grade forensics competition." I straighten her dress, making sure that the train is out of the way before I shut the door.

"Is this your way of opening the door for me to vent about how much I despise my ex?" She replies with that attorney's smirk that will serve her so well in court some day.

I shut my door and turn to her across the console. "This is my way of making sure you make the kind of impression that will move you to the head of the list of spurned women everywhere."

I love it when she laughs. Olivia pulls her seatbelt down across her lap. "I over did the hair, didn't I?"

"You've done it better." I reply without realizing how much I'm giving away in that simple statement.

Olivia pulls a clip off the back of her head, letting her hair cascade down her shoulders. "You keep track of the way I do my hair?" She shakes it out with one hand as she watches me put the Jaguar into gear.

"I'm a historian. Even the tiniest little nuance may become important sometime in the future." The dodge works for now, and she changes the subject as I turn down the freeway out of town.

"The Deschanel ballroom's not this way." Olivia points out but makes no effort to dissuade my course.

"Nope, just outside of town is a lovely seaside estate called Harrigan's Shoal where Mrs. Meredith Harrigan lives with her husband, shipping mogul Edward Harrigan the third, the precocious toddler Emily, and chubby baby Claire." My proud smile makes her realizes how much I love those little girls. "My nieces. Edward's off in Europe, but Meredith is always happy to dispense fashion advice."

"And she's your sister?" She wonders with surprise and a touch of admiration. "Meredith Harrigan is the most sought after fundraiser on the West Coast. The woman could charm honey from a stone."

"The charm is my father's something that comes from being born a Richards, but the good heart is my mother's. You'll like Meredith."

Olivia bites her lip and sighs as she flushes slightly. "I'm afraid we met."

"How'd you meet?" My sister's infamously good-natured. Olivia must have might quite an impression to look so concerned.

"AJ took me to one of her fundraisers, his mother wanted the Deschanel's to look good for the papers." She takes a moment but then she decides to trust me. "And we had a fight. A huge fight that ended in AJ spilling his drink all over her beautiful, hand-dyed silk gown."

I can't help chuckling at her mortified expression. "That would make you the 'sweet, apologetic girlfriend who was stuck with the Deschanel brat' whenever Meredith tells that story."

"Oh you're kidding." Further embarrassment only sends a flush across her cheeks.

"All right-" I sigh, turning the headlights on as the sun sets. "She said naive instead of sweet, but I find sweet more fitting."

Olivia shakes her head, smiling a half-smile that twists the corner of her mouth up deviously. "No one has ever called me sweet."

The car swings around the curve of the road, hugging the pavement as the engine picks up. "I bet you were a sweet little girl, all smiles and curls, until you turned three and started reading law books."

"I was four." Olivia corrects with a lightness in her tone that doesn't get into her eyes. "My da- my father, worked in as a night watchman in a legal office. He used to bring me with and read me stories. Sometimes he was too busy. I remember looking through the books on the wall when I was a little girl and wondering why there weren't any pictures."

"So you were just stubborn enough to teach yourself to read, weren't you?" I watch the trees replace the houses as we leave town towards my sister's house. "I'll bet your daddy was surprised."

Her mouth twitches and I can't help wondering if how much it hurt that night watchman father to realize his little girl taught herself how to read legal books late at night. "When he found out, he was sad. I never really knew why." She plays with the fabric of her skirt nervously and my heart goes out to her. I know exactly what it's like to see that kind of disappointment on my father's face.

"It has to be tough for a father to realize his little girl's become that independent." I tentatively move my hand towards her, offering my support, I don't expect her to take it. Surprising me, Olivia takes my hand into her lap and squeezes it.

"A lot of things were tough on my father." She returns softly as she watches the trees out the window. "What about your parents? What was it like growing up on the Richards estate?"

I change the subject, sensing she'd rather hear about anything in my life than keep talking about the poor night watchman who had to bring his little girl with him to work. "My parents were the photographs on the front of the newspaper, my nanny and my tutor raised me. "

"I'm sorry-"

I wave off her sympathy and can't help being thrilled that she still has my hand in her lap. "It wasn't bad. I had my sisters, yacht trips in the summer, ski vacations, polo and tennis lessons." I spare a glance from the road and wink at her. "It's amazing I had any time to grow up at all, my life was so scheduled."

I pull up next to the garage and take my hand back from her to park. Meredith's dogs run out from under the sprawling white porch to bark at the car and I get out quickly to chase them off before Olivia gets out. She gives me an apprehensive smile as I lead her through the pack of Irish Setters. We're halfway up the steps when she starts sneezing.

"I'm sorry, I've always been terribly allergic-" She sneezes again and I hand her my handkerchief. "To anything furry." The train of her dress catches on the porch and she stumbles. I reach out to catch her and she falls into my arms.

Olivia takes hold of me, gratefully squeezing her fingers tight into my shoulders. She tilts up her chin to look into my face and we're so close that I can count the lashes around her eyes. She climbs up on tiptoes and wraps her arms around the back of my neck. "You caught me."

"I was afraid you'd die of sneezing if you fell down among the dogs."

She doesn't answer, she just looks at my face, staring through me. "I'm not used to people trying to protect me."

The porch lights flash on around us and the dogs run barking into the house around my sister's feet. "You two just going to stand there all night?" Meredith looks us over and grins wickedly. "Although, I can't really blame you for trying to land my devilishly handsome little brother."

I make sure Olivia's got her footing before I hurry to hug my sister. "Mere- this is Olivia Blake, the woman AJ Deschanel was insane enough to let slip by."

"Well, anyone who has a problem with the Deschanels is welcome in my house, come on in sweethearts, I'm sure we can find something that'll make AJ green."

January 1997

"I leave everything to the one man who always treated me like a lady, Gregory Richards."

Elaine's video will cuts off and chaos erupts around me. In the moment before Cole attacks me, I meet Olivia's eyes, and there's that betrayal. The cold fury I was searching for when I went to Elaine's bed, but there's no surprise in those icy blue eyes. No shock. She knew.

"You bastard, you killed her!" Cole lunges towards me, but Ricardo holds him back. The detective looks me over and I can tell I've suddenly moved to the top of his suspect list. Not that I care. Though Elaine's death benefits me, more than anyone else it seems, I certainly was not the immediate cause of it. The angry faces around me are nearly amusing. Caitlin's distraught, Olivia's livid, but she's hiding it well beneath that protective veneer of hers. Sean doesn't seem surprised at all.

"He killed her for the money. He must have known about the will, they were having an affair for godsakes!" Cole's fist hisses past my ear and Olivia insinuates herself between us. She holds up a hand as I start to defend myself.

"I certainly didn't need her money." I shrug as I pour myself a glass of water.

Olivia clears the room, banishing the detective and Cole. Bette comes over and pats my shoulder in a show of support. "Don't you worry Greggie, I'm sure Olivia will never let you go down for murder."

I kiss her cheek and grin at Bette even though Olivia's looking daggers at me. "I'm sure she wouldn't, thank you Bette."

Olivia's too upset to even talk to me and she disappears into the study. Sean gets a glass of water, but doesn't bother to drink it. "Don't worry dad, I'll protect you."

"Why would I need protecting?" I wonder as I try to figure out what Sean's getting at behind his far too serious expression.

He drops his voice to a whisper. "You were there. I saw you in the hotel, the night Elaine was killed."

I touch his shoulder, trying to think of a way to remind him that I'll love him regardless. "But I didn't kill her."

He pulls away again, suddenly stiff. "I know. Just in case."

It's taken her a week to put her argument together. Olivia's irate as she enters the room and I can't help wondering if she overhead Sean asking me why I don't leave. Olivia will never understand why I can't leave. Sean can't understand, he's never been in love.

"It hasn't always been this way." I promise Sean as I rest my hand on his shoulder. "Your mother was a truly wonderful woman once."

Sean doesn't believe me and Olivia's standing nearby, just behind him, arms crossed in disgust. "What happened?" He asks and I sigh and stare down at my glass. Today the liquor tastes good and I finish the glass before I meet Olivia's icy stare.

"I still wonder."

Sean can feel the tension in the room and he chooses wisely to disappear. He's barely out the door when Olivia gets up. She walks over to me, saying nothing as she looks me over with the expression of someone appraising manure. Then she walks away. Just walks away.

I shouldn't say it, normally I wouldn't, but I just want Olivia to feel as awful as I do. "Where are you going? Off to one of your cheap little boyfriends?

She whirls back on me, burning into me with her disgusted glare. She's playing the good little stoic tonight, and between the liquor and the way she treated Sean, I'm ready to be rid of her. "It's all right for you to have as many affairs as you want, but God forbid I even look at another woman."

The exaggeration gets her. "You did a lot more than look darling." the hiss in her voice. That angry growl that reminds me of a panther about to strike.

I take another foolish step closer to her. She seems so much more dangerous when she's angry. Olivia's cornered and wounded and I'm asking to be ripped to shreds, but I don't care. I just want to see the pain in her eyes. "What is it that bothers you? The fact that she was your best friend or that fact that we did it right here-"

Her eyes are could cut glass and finally I feel validated. She may want to kill me, but murder can be an act of passion. It will be tonight. In a terrible flash of insight I picture myself lying strangled on the floor of the living room. That fine line between love and hate blurs when I look into her chiseled face.

"in this house. On that sofa- on that rug-" I can't help smiling. "In your bed."

Snapping like a great tree in a hurricane, Olivia's control shatters. She grabs my jacket, pulling me down to her level and tightened my collar viciously around my neck. She holds me there with rage-forged strength. For the first time since I taunted her I start to realize that this may be it. The moment our relationship finally crosses that last line into physical abuse. I shove her slightly, squirming to get away, but there's iron in her small hands.

She wraps a hand around my neck, pulling my head down as she rises to her toes. Olivia crushes our mouths together, invading my own with her tongue. I struggle to push her back, but I don't want to hurt her. She's too angry. Too inflamed with her resolve. I finally break the kiss as I struggle for breath.

Beneath the hatred is something primal, the only emotion we have left between us is born from need. We need the desperate embrace of each other's arms because for a few moments, we can trick ourselves, lure ourselves into a false sense of security. We can remember when we lay together out of love instead of rage.

Breathing hard we continue to stare at each other. I remember crushing her body to mine on the floor of the shower and suddenly I know why she kissed me. Her body, her glorious body is only beneath a few flimsy layers of clothing and I want her. I want to lose myself within her and try to remember a time when I didn't thrive on pain. When love was the driving force of my life, not the afterthought in a romantic film. I loved her once, and even now as I watch her lip tremble with fury, I know I love her still.

Love burns up through me, hot and painful in it's wanting, and I attack her. I rip the suit jacket from her shoulders and crush our lips together again. I can taste the hint of blood from her bruised lips but it only spurs me on. I don't cares if she hates me. Right now she's here, her tongue is hot and responsive. Maybe letting her knock my down to the sofa will let me forget how empty I am when I look at her. For this moment she wants me and I can't admit how much that means to me. Just kissing her is enough to push me into a fever.

Olivia shoves me down to the sofa, slamming me down hard. She gives me just enough time to get my pants as she undoes the top few buttons of her blouse before dropping down on top of me. Sick of the time it is taking she rips open the rest, exposing the white satin of her bra and the creamy ivory of her skin. Pulling her pants aside, she impales herself on me. I groan in surprise, feeling the heat of her close tight around me. Olivia leans down over me, crushing her breasts to me as I reach up to undo her bra. It falls away, probably broken as she thrusts it aside. She grinds against me, lowering her head over my shoulder.

Wrapping my arms across her bare back, I hold her close. She rocks her hips against me, driving hard towards her release. Her hands dig into my shoulders, giving her leverage. Twice in the same month is a bit of a change after our years of ignoring each other. The thought that things may be really changing between us floats through my mind.

Olivia bites into my shoulder, teeth sinking through the fabric as she swallows a scream. She won't be giving me that satisfaction, but I am allowed to crush her breasts. She drags my hands, insisting I pull her closer, grab her harder. She rocks faster, glorifying in the heat. As her face passes mine, I wonder if I'm hurting her. There's pain in her eyes, but Olivia seems to feed on it. She closes down over my mouth with her lips, stealing my breath away. Does she feed on that too?

Olivia arrives, tightening viciously around me as she bites down on her lip. She's so quiet and I can't help crying out in shock and pleasure. For a stifled moment we lie there together. Our lust and our rage is sated, at least for now, there's nothing between but the echo of slowing heartbeats. In that silence I'm reminded of the good days. The way Olivia used to look at me as if I were all she wanted in the world. The tears sting my eyes, but she's already looking away.

She pulls away, lifting her clothes from the floor. Olivia pulls on her shirt, and closes it over the red marks left on her skin by my hands. Her breasts disappear behind the white linen, and even though I turn to smile at her, I know the moment is already over. She's walking away without a word. We may as well have just talked about the weather for the last few minutes. Every time I think I've hardened, adapted to her and the agony she can inflict, she finds new depths. New ways to render me empty, new wounds to leave bleeding across old scars.

And I let her.John