Happy Sunday, everyone! Once again, thank you for all the encouraging reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I will try to post the next three chapters between today and tomorrow. We'll see how well that goes. Please feel free to leave a review. It's so helpful and encouraging.

Today, we pick up with Fitz and Olivia at the studio.

Fitz's POV

Did this woman tell me to shut up? Yes, and I loved it. She's got some nerve. Only Mellie and my dad dared to tell me to shut up, but it never sounded as sweet as it came out of her mouth. Her mouth, so beautifully shaped, continues to tempt me to be on my worst behavior. I couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lingered on my wedding ring earlier, and I can only assume she'll think I'm a sleazeball if I do try anything, and I don't want that.

We spent the entire afternoon and into the evening lost in sorting and unpacking what seemed like a never-ending stream of boxes. Time blurred as we worked and laughed, and I realized it had been far too long since I'd connected with someone so effortlessly. Her humor was infectious, her intelligence and wit captivating, but I noticed she didn't talk much about herself, her family, or her past, which I also tried to avoid. We keep the conversation light, favorite things to eat, her artwork, what it's like running the hotel, Just idle chit-chat.

As we unpacked boxes, I couldn't help but steal glances at her, admiring her graceful movements as she danced around to every song that came on; she was so energetic and had a charming personality. Her brown eyes were mesmerizing, and her subtle sass added to her allure. At that moment, I couldn't help but see her as everything I had been missing and wanted.

"Okay, captain. What's next?" I say, trying to deter the inappropriate thoughts creeping into my mind about those enticing hips of hers.

"Please don't call me captain." She said, looking annoyed.

"Okay, how about beautiful?"

"You can just call me Olivia." She says with a half-smile.

"Can I call you Liv?"

"My good friends call me Liv. We're not friends."

"What do you mean we're not friends? We're good friends." I say playfully, shocked and confused.

"I've known you for less than 24 hours. How could we be good friends?"

"Well...I mean... we're on our way to becoming good friends."

She chuckles, "Maybe, but it definitely had a rocky start, if you catch my drift," she says, her lips pierced and head tilted in sassy defiance.

"Ouch," I say, bowing my head. This woman is going to be the death of me. As I watched her pick up the next box to put on the shelf, she had beads of sweat on her forehead, and as she lifted the box, her shirt rode up, revealing a sliver of her toned midriff. The sheen of sweat highlights the lines of her muscles. Here comes the erection. Fuck.

"Hey, Fitz, can you help me with this box? I need to get it up on the top shelf," she called out, straining to hold the box over her head.

I set down the box in my hand. "Absolutely," I say, rushing up behind her. The space between us shrinks to inches. Quickly, I easily grasp the box from her hand and place it on the top shelf. The urge to turn her around and kiss her is strong, but I hold back, unsure of whether she feels the same pull. I've caught her looking at me quite a few times, and I suspect she's attracted to me too, but I won't force myself on her. I take a step back, and she turns around to face me.

"Thank you so much," she sighs deeply, offering me a warm smile. "I think we're good for the day."

"If you need to quit, then that's fine," I reply with a hint of jest, really not wanting our time together to end.

"What's that supposed to mean? I could keep going." she squints at me, a mischievous half-grin on her face. "Are you challenging me, Mr.?" Her playful nature makes me chuckle.

"No, no, I'm just kidding. We can quit for today." I'll definitely be back.

"I'll order dinner, and then we can get out of here. We got a lot done. Thank you so much, Fitz."

"I'm so glad I could help," I said, genuinely meaning it. She's easy to be with. She can take a joke, laugh at herself, be silly, and then, in the next moment, talk in-depth about the meaning of art, its history, and how it shapes our world. She was a breath of fresh air.

"Do you eat Chinese?"

"Sure do. I assume there's no point in fighting with you about who's paying."

"Correct," she says, her eyes narrowing. "So, don't start." With a sly smile, she grabs a menu off the top of a stack of papers on the shelf and hands it to me. As she places her order, I can't help but marvel at the unexpected happiness I feel at this moment. Despite all the top notch restaurants I frequent, there's something unexplainably fulfilling about being here, in this storage room, with her.

After placing our order, she settled onto the small couch in the corner of the room and leaned back, closing her eyes. "I am exhausted. It's been a long day, and I stayed out way too late last night." I take a seat next to her and watch her. The delicate line of her neck captivates me, igniting a fire in me that I have to try to keep under control.

"So our chance meeting may never have happened?"

"Probably not. I don't go out much. I only went out to see an old friend of mine from school. I hadn't seen her in a few years," she explained. She lifts her head to look me directly in my eyes.

"So you're a homebody," I say, shifting my body to face her and casually draping my arm around the back of the couch. I hold my breath momentarily, wondering if she'll recoil or give me a strange look. But to my relief, she doesn't. Okay, we're in each other's personal space, and so far, so good.

"Definitely. I enjoy snuggling up with a good book or watching a movie with some popcorn and a large glass of wine. That's a perfect night to me," I imagine what it would be like to spend a perfect night with her. It would be nice to have a woman to climb into bed with after a long day, have a drink, and watch a movie. I can see myself doing that with her. Most nights, I sleep alone, and it's a pretty lonely feeling. "What's a perfect night to you?"

A perfect night to me? Not hearing Mellie's voice, but that's beside the point. "My idea of a perfect night would be... spending time with the woman I love, out on the yacht, cuddled up under a blanket, gazing at the stars and listening to the soothing sounds of the water, with soft music playing. That would be my idea of a perfect night," I admit, unable to tear my eyes away from hers.

She immediately looks away from me, "That does sound perfect."

"Maybe I can take you out on the water sometime."

She continues looking at the floor, pushing her hair behind her ears, "I don't know about that," she says shyly.

"Are you scared?"

"Scared of what?" She says, looking back at me confused.

"Being alone with me under the night's stars, with no one in sight."

She huffs and turns away from me again, "No, I'm not afraid."

"Are you afraid of water?"

"No, I was a competitive swimmer in high school and college."

"Oooooh, so you're a fish."

"Something like that."

We sit there quietly for a moment. I'm dying to know more about her, more about her personal life. "So, you said you were born and raised in North Carolina. Why did you leave there?"

"Intrusive are we?"

'No, curious. Just casual chit-chat."

"I see." She continues. "Needed a fresh start."

"Fresh start from what?"

"Is this 20 questions?"

"Okay, look, I stalked you online." I say, looking down as if I'm a child in trouble.

"Surprise, surprise."

"I know, creepy, but we're here now. You were a lawyer and the wife of Congressman Davis. How did you end up here as an artist?"

"It's a long story."

I look around the room. "I got time." The more I look into her face, it's apparent she doesn't want to discuss this subject. Back off a little, Fitz. "Look, you don't need to talk about it if you don't want to. I was just curious, and I completely understand."

She takes a deep breath, her eyes revealing the weight of every word she's about to speak. "Practicing law was my father's dream for me, not mine," she begins, her voice filled with resignation. Those words strike a chord with me. "Then I met Edison, we got married, and embarked on a journey into politics. I felt the weight of expectations crushing my spirit, among other things. So, I made a daring choice and walked away, leaving it all behind." She shields herself with crossed arms, a barrier against the probing questions she knows are coming. There's a story here; I can feel it, but she's wary of sharing it with a stranger like me.

I'll try something a little less touchy. "Why did you choose New York, may I ask?"

"Well...I have a friend, Jake, that I went to Columbia with, and he suggested I come back and try the art scene out here. Being fresh on the heels of my divorce, I thought it would be a good move to just...I don't know...start over somewhere totally new but familiar. So, here I am."

Jake. I couldn't help but be curious about him. The waitress had mentioned him as well. "So... is um... Jake, just a friend or... something more?"

She responds with a sly smile. "Are you jealous?"

"Maybe a little, if this Jake has a special place in your life," I admit.

She looks at me for a moment before answering. "We are not intimately involved. He was my boyfriend in college, but he broke my heart." Her voice holds a mixture of pain and bitterness.

"And you managed to stay friends after that?" I ask, intrigued.

As she sits up a little straighter and looks at me with a hint of vulnerability, she confesses softly, "It took a long time, but we eventually found our way back to being friends."

Yeah, I'm sure he tried to be friends again. I bet he's been working hard to patch things up. Probably figured out he screwed up and wants back in. Well, sorry, Jake, but I'm here now, and I won't make it easy for you. I'm sure there's more just like him, vying for her attention; how could there not be? But I'm always up for a challenge. With a forced smile, I manage to choke out, "Well... that's...good."

She squints, "Why do I find it hard to believe you think that's good." I can't help but smile at her. Damn, she's driving me crazy. I want to kiss those beautiful lips of hers.

"No, it...it is. It's great. I mean, very rarely does it ever work, but good for you." She stares at me for a moment.

"I'm sensing sarcasm, but that's fine. My turn to be intrusive." The tension in the air was undeniable, and our unspoken desires lingered just beneath the surface, waiting to erupt into something.

"Intrusive?" I say, puzzled.

"Yes, Intrusive. Why is a wealthy, married man spending his entire Saturday in a messy and dirty studio with me?" Well, she has me there. How do I answer that?

"Well...I um...I guess..."

"Fitz, don't bullshit me. Why are you here?"

"Because you are here," I said, meeting her gaze. "From the moment I saw you, I thought you were one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Not just on the outside, but the more I get to know you, the more I see your inner beauty. Your natural nurturing and caring nature is something I rarely come across in my life, along with your determination to achieve success on your own merit. You quiet the package, Ms. Pope. I know there must be someone out there who feels lucky to have you."

"Someone?"

"As beautiful and sweet as you are, I'm sure there's someone special in your life."

"Hmmm. The only thing I have is this studio." Her expression turns serious, and just then, there's a knock on her front door.

"I'll be right back. That's the food," she says, hurrying to answer the door. While she's gone, I realize she's alone in the Big Apple. She didn't mention Jake or anyone else. Well, Liv, you're not alone anymore. I'm going to be right here. You won't need that jackass Jake in your life anymore or anyone else.

She returns with the food, and I want to lighten the mood a little. "You're really spoiling me. You won't be able to get rid of me," I say as I offer to help her with the food.

"Is that so? Well, you're a pretty cheap date, Mr. Grant." We both begin to laugh. As we start taking the containers out of the bag and setting them on the table, she says, "I am so proud of you for not fighting me on paying for this." She flashes her beautiful smile.

"What choice did I have?"

"None, really, but I'm glad you realize that. Admission is the first step."

"Right." Anything for you, baby. We both smile and as our eyes meet, I can feel her grip on me, as if her presence possesses me. My little bunny then says, "I have a bottle of wine. Would you like to share it with me?" Though I'm not a wine drinker, the thought of turning her down is unfathomable.

"Absolutely."

"Great. I'll be right back." She glances over her shoulder as she strides towards the kitchen area- she is mesmerizing. All I can think about is sweeping her off her feet and spoiling her with lavish dinners, handbags, clothing, and anything else she wants. However, it does not appear as if those things trigger her. She needs something thoughtful and considerate of who she is, but I don't know her well. In time, Fitz, just relax.

Moments later, she returns, clutching a bottle of red wine and a pair of wine glasses. She poured each of us a glass and handed me one. She flicks off a few lights, casting a romantic atmosphere upon the room, even though I know that is not what she intended. We sit at opposite sides of the table and begin to dig in.

"Can I ask you a question, Olivia?"

"Sure."

"I'm going to ask you the same question I did last night. Will you go to dinner with me?"

"I'm having dinner with you right now, silly." She pauses for a second, and I notice her look down at my ring finger.

"Olivia," I say as she chuckles.

"I would like to if you were single." I hold my head down in shame, not for asking her to dinner, but for being married to Mellie. She's right, though. She deserves to be treated better than just some piece of candy to show off. "Look, Fitz. I'll admit, we have a lot in common. You're a very attractive man, funny, charming, and a pretty hard worker from what I can tell, but I don't want to be your side-piece or sometime lover. I don't want to be that person, but I certainly don't mind being your friend. I think we could be great friends." No, no, no, you are not putting me in the friend zone. I want her to be mine. She is mine, and I'm not letting go. If she wants to start under the pretense of being just friends, fine, but eventually, I will have her.

"I understand. Yeah, friends sound great." I say, trying not to show a look of disappointment on my face.

"Good."

We quietly eat for a moment, and just for clarification, I ask, "So just to be clear, that's a no to dinner then?"

"That would be a no to dinner." She says starting to laugh. "If we're out in public dining together, rumors could start, and my reputation is extremely important to me." She's right. The papers would devour her and me. I can't parade her publicly as much as I would love to. "Does your wife know you're here? Am I going to have some angry woman tracking me down because her very attractive husband is spending time with me?"

She needs to stop telling me I'm attractive or I'm going to sit her on top of table and devour her body. I wondered how soon my Mellie problem would be a topic of discussion. "No, she does not know I am here, nor does she care."

"You mean to tell me you've been gone all day, into the night, and she has not questioned you yet?"

She shakes her head and takes a sip of her wine. "If you were my husband, you certainly wouldn't be alone with another woman at an art studio on a Saturday night." She says with one eyebrow raised. She's right about that. If I were her husband, she would be at home right now with her legs spread open for me as she begged me to please her.

"Well, I'm sitting here and not a word. My sons have texted me to check in, but that's it." I pull out my phone and show her no missed calls."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I don't know. Everyone deserves to have someone who cares about them, checks on them, and will love them unconditionally—someone to share their secrets and fantasies with. You have to be quite literally the saddest-looking man I've ever seen. You don't hide it as well as you may think you do." A smile and a look of pity creeps on her face.

I'm sorry, did she say share fantasies with? If she only knew the depraved thoughts and fantasies I have. She would probably run for the hills. I wonder what kind of fantasies she has. Does she like to be dominant, or does she want to be dominated? Maybe a little of both. I wonder if she's a good girl in bed, an obedient girl. I wonder how she tastes.

"Fitz."I snap out of the daze she has me in."You okay? You're just staring at me."

Shit. Stay focused, Fitz. "Sorry, I... I'm listening; I was thinking about what you were saying, and what I've learned in life is you don't always get what you want."

"Now that's the truth, but you can always keep striving for it." She says with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Her phone suddenly rings, jolting both of us. We both glance at the table as the name 'Jake' lights up the screen. "I'm sorry, I have to take this. Just give me one moment," she says hastily as she grabs the phone and strides out of the storage room.

I hear her tender voice asking, "Hey Jake, how's Lilly? Are you feeling better?" Instantly, a surge of anger and irritation washes over me. I can't believe she's answering the phone for this clown while I'm left sitting here. Why did she need to leave the room? What could be so private that I can't overhear if they're just friends? Fitz, slow down. Get a hold of yourself. You've known her for 24 hours. It's fine. No, actually, it's not. I can't quite make out what else she's saying, but she's using a tone that's making my blood boil. It's as if she's shut me out, leaving me here, while she talks to another man. It's just plain rude.

A few moments later, she returned, and I greeted her eyes with a cold glare but realized quickly that I better take a different approach. Upsetting her or acting like a jealous maniac could mean me never seeing her again.

"Sorry about that. Jake and his daughter are sick, and I wanted to make sure they were okay."

Take a deep breath and smile, Fitz. "That's okay. That's very nice of you. Everyone alright?" I say, trying not to talk through gritted teeth.

"They are still not feeling that well, but they will be okay. Thanks for asking."

"Of course.", I say with a tight smile. We'll discuss this situation at a later time.

We finished our food quietly and started to clean up while I tried to think about how this night would end. She looks over at me with a content smile.

"We did a great job today, Fitz. I appreciate all your help."

I nodded, still feeling quite frustrated about the phone call with that asshole, but I was determined not to let it ruin the evening. "Yeah, I had a good time too. It's nice to spend time with you, Olivia, and to be a part of something new and fresh for the downtown area."

We walk outside together, the cool night air sending a shiver down both of us as we make our way to the parking lot; only my car is here. "Where is your car?" I ask, confused.

"Oh, I walked here today. I don't live too far from here. I was just walking you to your car to say goodbye."

"Like hell you're walking home."

"Fitz, it's a few blocks. It's not that big of a deal. I don't mind the walk."

I hesitate for a moment before speaking in a calmer tone. "Olivia, you are not walking home. I will take you home." Harold gets out of the car and comes around to open the door. "We're taking Ms. Pope home."

"Yes, sir."

I motion for Olivia to hop into the car. "I... I don't want to impose," she mumbles, hesitating.

I peer into her eyes. "It's not imposing, Olivia. I'm making sure you get home safe and sound. I'm not asking; I'm telling."

She appears torn but finally gives in and says, "Okay, if you're sure it's no trouble," with a tiny smile.

"It's no trouble, so get in," I reply with authority.

She puts one foot into the back seat and turns to me, meeting my gaze dead on. "You're quite the bossy one, Mr. Grant. I'm not sure that I like that."

"And you, my dear, are one stubborn soul. I'm not sure how I like that." We share a gaze before she sizes me up and slides into the car.

Our silence felt comfortable rather than awkward as we drove to her apartment. We reach her building, and I get out to walk her to the entrance, not quite ready to leave her. We stand together, tension hanging in the air as we struggle to find the right words. Fine, I'll go. I clear my throat, "I had a great time tonight, Olivia. I hope we can do this again sometime," I say, my voice softer than usual and filled with nervousness. I reach into my pocket to pull out a business card. "If you need anything or um...maybe just want to talk since we are friends now, you call me. Anytime."

She takes the business card from my hand and looks up at me. Damn, those eyes. "Thanks. I...I had a good time, too. We are very productive together. Thank you for everything," she replied, her voice trailing off. "Let me give you my number; you can call me too if you ever wanna talk or...if you ever need help cleaning a storage room." We both chuckle.

"Oh, believe me. If I'm cleaning out a storage room, I will definitely be calling you." I handed her my phone, and she put her number in. We stood there for a moment, unspoken words hanging in the air. I reached out and gently kissed Olivia on the cheek, "Goodnight, Olivia. Take care of yourself,"

"You too, Fitz."